So Chuck's been paying hot poor people to beat him up. Ambush him and beat him up with their great big poor-people muscles. That's how that's going. Dan keeps walking in on these little scenes and finally he steps to Nate like "Trick, best treat your man right." So Nate stops baking -- literally, he was baking pot brownies for Chuck, possibly in a little apron, because this show keeps finding new ways to be gay -- long enough to call the doctor. It was really cute, how worried he was once Dan explained to him that he should be worried. They make such a good pair of domestic partners, the three of them.
Oh, and get this. Naturally, Chuck Bass is suffering from some kind of drama queen psychological syndrome where he can't feel feelings anymore, because this show also keeps finding new ways to be WTF.
Louis's sister Beatrice is some bullshit. I don't even want to talk about her. That thing that Zooey Deschanel does to people, that's what Louis's sister Beatrice does to me. So the prince and princess French at each other and it's so disgusting, just absolutely unbearable, and there's a sexy priest*, and somehow Blair ends up telling Dan that she's pregnant and then inviting some homeless people to the Monegasque Feast of Assumption. There is much lovely Blair-and-Dan time, if you're into that sort of thing. Which you are.
*Oh, and Beatrice is fucking the sexy priest. That was like the one cool thing she did. Finding a bra would have been another one, but she fucked that up too.
Diana Payne shows up in NYC and fucks Nate in a vestibule and then offers him a job. As what? Do any of these people actually have job titles or things you can put on your resume? It's like Eli Gold, or K Street, like that thing where your job is that you do things and people say, "That dude is really good at ... things." But Nate and Serena are not lobbyists or strategists, they're just... Hot. They just have hotness and it qualifies them for any old thing. Vestibule-polisher. Rough trade S&M enthusiast. Pot brownie-maker. Or whatever it is that Serena does. Boob-haver. Pants-scorner. Cousin-kidnapper.
Yes, and Ivy's awesome boyfriend is named Max, as it turns out. She gets roped -- through some complicated overbearing Serena behavior -- into leaving him and going to live with Serena so she can pretend to be Cousin Charlie some more. Then the whole LA storyline abruptly ends for no real reason, with Serena dragging Ivy back to the burgeoning UES film. Ludicrous indeed -- as though anybody would ever leave Brian J. Smith, for any reason -- but at least allows for the possibility that Ivy will fuck everything and everybody up somehow. Maybe Max will come to NY? Please don't let this be the last of Max. We love Max. We want more Max. And we want Ivy to get shithouse crazy. We still don't actually know what's wrong with her on the inside, as you recall. But there's always something.
Next week: Paternity test, Serena and Ivy return home, and Blair throws Daniel Humphrey through the air like a ragdoll. A curly-haired moppet of a ragdoll, with magnificent cheekbones and pecs.
Previously: Nate met a mysterious old woman who fucked him on the floor in a great big California mansion, and naturally he assumed he'd be compensated. Chuck has devised the most ludicrous plot-to-be-fascinating yet, wiping out Quileute style on "our LA roadways" and then caressing his bruises as though they were the Velveteen Rabbit, and it was kind of amazing but not as amazing as it's about to get. Ivy has a wonderful boyfriend and is trying to become a working actress in LA, but maybe doesn't have the stuff for it.
Previous to that she pretended to be named Cousin Charlie, because Aunt Carol is a goddamn loon. While Serena was discovering her in a local patisserie, Dan was discovering that Vanessa had once again conspired to make his dreams and nightmares come true. And Blair? Still stuck in Weddingville, population Crazy, but a wise handmaiden of the Orient has delivered one big Annunciation upside her head: Girlfriend's at six weeks. Too bad, I'd already picked out her roller-derby name.
"Young Folks (King Jeremy Don't Like Mondays Remix)" whistles and warbles in its catchy way over a brand new day. I love this song. It makes me wonder how many other Peter Bjorn & John songs could be turned into school shootings just by moving some whistles around and changing a few words. GG be talking mad medicine, while Blair's pretending to care about Dorota's pregnancy as a way of getting information about her own. You know that show I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant? I've never seen it, but I think it's about the opposite of whatever Blair's doing right now. Turns out Dorota doesn't even know about Blair's little secret, but she's about to...
Blair: "Dorota, your womb is of the utmost importance. If things get rough, I plan on renting it out."
Dorota: "[Charming broken English.]"
Blair: "Thanks for asking. Louis's sister Beatrice is picking Louis up in their jet at noon, to take him back to Monaco to celebrate the Feast of the Assumption."
I love the Assumption. I love how Anne and Mary brought back the Old Testament tradition of being so awesome that God's like, "Screw the velvet rope, you're coming in VIP." What a useless prize! If I heard I was going to be Assumpting, I would drive a motorcycle off a cliff like Chuck Bass, all Come at me, bro!
Doctor: "I am reputable."
Blair: "Then I have some questions for you about my maidservant's morning sickness. Having never had it, and certainly not because I'm having it now."
Doctor: "As a doctor on the Upper East Side, I am familiar with the burden of a servant's illnesses, and will happily discuss your questions as though Dorota is a Labrador Retriever."
Dorota (Is marginally more intelligent than a Labrador Retriever, making this comparison unfair and more than a little classist.)
Blair, verbatim: "And what about breast sensitivity? ...You see, she practically screams when anyone touches them. I can hear her all the way from Queens!"