In a liquor store they discuss the losing of their respective virginities. Kevin Dillon: "Ugh, Tracy Richter, it was a mess. I always hoped I'd get to re-fuck her, you know, do it right." Is that like one of those catchphrases soon to be sweeping the nation? Is this, after all, the Sex and the City for boys we all desperately need it to be? Mm, no. It's just one snowflake in an avalanche of horrible writing. Vince: gives a 404 at this time. File not found. Eric clicks "refresh" because everybody remembers their first and it's still a 404. Turtle attempts to supply the information about Vince's first time: "It was Cindy Davis, behind the arcade at Nathan's." Gross. Vince gives half of a 404, a 202 if you will, to this one, like the page is loading but the pictures won't come. Like it's on Friendster. Eric calls bullshit, and furthermore likens this lie to Justine Chapin's virginity, because "what kind of virgin has a snake tat pointing down at her box?" Ew and EW. And Eric? Don't say "tat." And go get some manners. And while you're out, pick up a copy of my new play, The Crassly Decorated and Indecorously Described Vagina Monologues. It's sure to be a hit in package stores from coast to coast. Imagine your vagina is a richly-decorated room in your house. Is it a basement? An attic? A guest bedroom? How is it decorated? Is it influenced more by the faux finishes of Frank, or the cool architectural style of Vern? Perhaps it has a title; could it be called "A Blue Vagina, by Doug"? Is it possibly a "Hildi"? Did Kia put up borders? Can it introduce me to Ty?
While Vince and Eric argue over the $253 bottle of wine Vince has selected for Jessica Alba -- "you can't give her Boone's Farm," he explains -- Kevin and Turtle are...I don't know what they're doing. Making out? It's weird. Eric attacks Kevin Dillon for no reason. Turtle styles his hair. Everyone's looking in different directions and moving around strangely for no discernable purpose. Shape up, boys! This isn't the kitchen! Turtle calls out to the liquor guy that he should save Vince's signature and there's almost a cut and suddenly we're at Jessica Alba's house and the Snoop Dogg/Pharrell song "Beautiful" is playing (because it's an eighties flashback party, which is good news for Kevin Dillon), and I'm sorry, but Snoop? That's a Pharrell song. You've been punk'd. So anyway, this song is playing and there are bright blue drinks and it's just exactly like you think and there are no famous people there whatsoever, because this show can't even fake its own contrived bullshit. All the hugely-haired women have San Fernando faces and Long Beach breasts, meaning they are in no way pretending to be whores. They just are. Nice casting, jackass. The next bit is composed of quick edits to no narrative purpose, as Jessica Alba hugs each of the guys in turn and then points out where all the bars are, and all the girls. Jessica Alba is a madam. She sends the boys into the mighty fray and runs off with Vince. Turtle sends Eric to the bar and runs off for "Silicone Valley." I send a box of hair to the HBO offices and run off, having taken complete leave of my senses. Rage is a force that cannot be directed. Turtle offers to show these girls the Rolls -- they're not Miutrix girls, I don't know what they are. The Girls RAINN Forgot. Vince has been introduced to Chipette, and Jessica leaves them alone really awkwardly and giggles and they don't care and I think I'm in love with Jessica Alba.
Ari's at the party and on the prowl and he runs up to Jessica and kisses her and calls her "Sno-Cone" and "my Dark Angel" and "Honey" and that is pretty cute. Well, I don't know what "Sno-Cone" means, and God help you if you try to Google "Jessica Alba" for any reason, because I guarantee you'll wish you hadn't. This information superhighway is so scary. So that'll stay a secret between Ari and Sno-Cone. We're introduced to a strange man, a Jason, who never actually appears in the shot or speaks aloud, but takes part in the following conversation nonetheless. I'm sure this is very clever, whoever this man is or is meant to be, but again: Jessica Alba broke the internet, so I have no way of finding out. She's also sucking on a lollipop throughout this entire scene, so she might break my TV too. Is she on E, or just on her third reading of The Collected Nabokov? Doesn't matter, because she and Piven are both at the tops of their respective games now. Ari never, ever stops talking, incorporating her responses and incredulity into the unceasing flow of his words as he woos her and claims to have slashed her publicist's tires and tells her she deserves an actual award rather than simply MTV awards and may I have the envelope please and he complains that her true essence has never truly been expressed on film and it's just...dazzling.