Abby and Big Ears talk casually as she heads to the group session that day. She more or less confesses to flunking the boards the first time, and he jokingly tells her to write down "TB" if it's offered as an answer, because TB is usually right. I'm going to remember that next time I play Trivial Pursuit. ["Other good go-to Trivial Pursuit answers: Cassius Clay, David Niven, and Hitler. Trust me. Oh, and volcano questions are always about Krakatoa." -- Wing Chun] Abby enters the room and sits down in front of all the wackos we saw last week, plus Flasher, who's evidently joined the group in light of his affinity for exposing his extracurriculars to kilted schoolgirls. "I was over-sexualized at a young age," he insists. Abby notices that they're down their requisite suicidal guy, and Stanley -- the argumentative one with heavy eyeliner -- tsks that poor Suicidal Larry wasn't just all talk. "He took pills, drank a bottle of gin, slit his wrists, and jumped into Lake Michigan," he sighs, with all the grief of someone who's just frayed the business end of his shoelace so much that it's hard to feed through the holes -- thus damning his laces to a lifetime of annoying, stunted, accursed semi-usefulness, waiting to be replaced. I think that's also what it feels like to be Nick Lachey. Or a member of Menudo. "Larry really wanted to be dead," observes one girl sympathetically. Abby is taken aback that she's lost a patient already. "Don't worry, dear, you're really very good at this," another woman says soothingly. Hee. Everyone assures her that they love Abby's sessions. "Everybody but Larry," Eyeliner clarifies cheerfully. We smash to the credits wondering why the hell JetBlue wouldn't yank my luggage from my scheduled flight so that I could fly standby on the one that's boarding right this second in front of my angry, wan face. I suppose some of that wasn't apparent from the scene or interpretable from the subtext, but I assure you, it's all there.