"We tried, but he wouldn't stop complaining about some girl named Serena and 'wanting to be a man of action,' and so when he mentioned something about a shower, we were like Yeah!, but then he never came in to join us, and by the time we got out, he was gone."
Charles, you should have known better. You should have stuck around and made sure he went through with it. That's obviously how it was supposed to go. You let your friend down, Charles, and more than that you failed each and every one of us. Dan in a shower, Chuck in a shower, Daniel Humphrey and two girls and Mr. Chuck Bass, in a shower. The girls just disappear from your mind, don't they? Like one of those optical illusion things. It's not even gay if you don't look 'em in the eye. And yet, you fucked it up. Right up. On the other hand, you now get to also go to the bridal shower, so things are kind of still happening the way they ... absolutely always do.
Blair: "Louis, why are you spying on Serena's computer? That's wicked creepy."
Louis: "I don't speak very good English. I'm not sure what you are asking."
Blair: "That's cool. Listen, I think you were right about my friends sucking. They are throwing me a horrible shower."
Louis: "Also, look at this Gossip Girls!"
Blair: "God, Louis. Just get dressed."
Louis, of course, sends the hacked database to the Spectator, where it somehow instantly goes live despite nobody at that magazine wanting it to be published or doing the hours of programming that would make this even slightly plausible. Somehow a searchable, relational database is instantly accessible through this website, I'm saying, linked from the homepage, with nobody setting that up, or doing anything other than Louis pushing literally a Big Red Button on Serena's computer, which accomplishes this.
...And the party, of course, is perfect: Everything in Tiffany Blue, with stacked boxes everywhere, including a small speech dais and the cake itself. It is awesome! Very, very cool. But then:
Blair, verbatim: "Louis, look, it's a Tiffany's party! This isn't casual at all, it's elegant! Witty!"
Louis: "...It's you."
Barf Me Out: To the total max.
Spectator Thing: Goes live just as they're entering, and of course everybody's text messages get blown up right as this happens, because in addition to subscribing to every pointless thing GG herself does, everybody also wants to know what's going on with this shitty Elizabeth Hurley website that doesn't even make sense.