Felicity is back in her room dreamily telling Sally her obsession with Knoll and how it is screwing up her life.
In Sherman's classroom they are receiving their final assignment which is to do two self-portraits, and also they have to work with a partner to do each other's portrait. When one of my friends was getting her BFA, she had to take a life drawing course in which the final assignment was a nude self-portrait, which was on display at an art department open house. So, while Knoll and Felicity think it is a really tough assignment, I don't feel so bad for them. They decide to work with each other, of course. At the end of the class, Felicity and Knoll approach Sherman to tell her that they're going to be partners, and to apologize for what happened at Thanksgiving. Knoll interjects that it was Sherman's punch that made him do it. Sherman glares at him and he runs away with his tail between his legs. Felicity rolls out the I-really-admire-you gambit but Sherman isn't interested in hearing it.
The next scene opens with a close up of the book cover for Ever Since Adam and Eve: The Evolution of Human Sexuality , by Malcolm Potts and Roger Short. It turns out that Julie is reading it while Sean is on the phone enthusing about his samples to someone. He gets off the phone and tells Julie -- who is wearing a shirt with the number 55 on it, which must be her IQ -- that someone who was force-fed Smoothaise at the Thanksgiving party wants to distribute it to some restaurant chains. Julie can't believe it and neither can I. She hugs him and tells him that she'll buy him a drink at Epstein Bar that night. She's playing and he absolutely has to come because she's "sent out like a million flyers, and there might be music people there." Ben storms in and stomps to his room and slams the door. Julie and Sean look at each other then Ben comes out and announces that he has an American Lit paper due in forty-eight hours and he hasn't started it yet, which is why he is going to go slam his door again. At this point, I had to scream out, "Amateur!" Poor baby has what, a twenty-page paper due in two days and he's freaking? Give me a break. Back in the dark ages, in the early- to mid-80s, I had an electronic typewriter with limited word processing functions, and I routinely churned out papers in about ten or twelve hours. But whatever. ["I would make a crack here about Ben's IQ, but I'm afraid of what Wing Chun would do to me for dissing her boyfriend." -- Kim] ["Smart, considering that now I know where you live." -- Wing Chun]