Serena strips down to a totally adorable black one-pieced...garment...you know I don't know clothes. It's like, black, with a big Kirsten Cohen industrial metal ring in the middle of it like J. Lo, and she looks totally hot. Chuck strolls up and offers to "turn that one-piece into a no-piece," and I'm fine admitting that, dressed as he is, as a landed gentry taking a bathing weekend to the coast after hunting on a safari, that it would be hard to say no. She tells him to find a "floatie" to bother. Where is Vanessa Abrams? He chuckles creepily and suggests that if Bart and Lily come back from South Africa tomorrow engaged, they'll be brother and sister. (So Anguilla was a lie, but then they went to South Africa. I bet Lily was totally like, "PSYCH!" and nobody ever heard her laughing about that.) "You know what they say -- the family that plays together stays together," he queasily intones, and Serena smiles about how now he's into incest, "the universal taboo." She imagines that it's one of the only ones that he hasn't violated -- and she doesn't even know what he got up to in Imaginary Monaco with Nate! Either way, I'm so sure, Chuck. Three episodes from now he's going to be like, "Actually, I was a virgin when I slept with Blair, and this has all been a madcap game of switcheroo, because I am the gayest gaywad that ever gayed." He offers to break one more rule with her, and she predictably is grossed out, but honestly I don't think she's buying it any more than we are. He leans in for a kiss and she smacks his drink into the pool.
Currently neither smacked or drowning, sadly enough, we find Vanessa Abrams, bothering Dan Humphrey as usual in his palatial DUMBO loft. She's got her goddamned video camera trained on him and she's talking some bullshit about how he's so fascinating with his "exotic meal of Cheerios on an exciting Saturday night in." She begs him to be interesting. I don't have to tell you that this is one of those planets-aligned moments where I'm like, "Word, Vanessa Abrams. Don't go fuck yourself for a sec." "You don't want me to move back to Vermont, do you?" YES. If by "Vermont" you mean "hell," then by all means, let me bore you. Dan says somewhat wearily -- in his Target-sponsored club-dude shirt -- that if her "whole future depends on getting this grant" for her documentary, then she should find a new subject. AND a new line of work. She puts him off, talking about how it's this eternal story where "the outsider goes inside" -- GG-esque turn of phrase there, Abrams -- because it's "a likable everyman's pursuit" (I'll point out that one word of that phrase is factually true) "of his dream girl begins his descent into the bowels of Hell. This is mythic stuff!" Mythically boring. It's fucking Dan Humphrey. That movie is ten minutes long and it goes, "I am better than this whole situation I'm not invited to!" And the person's like, "Can you be happy or cool for like five seconds?" And he's like, "Not until socialism!" And they go, "Okay, then, whatever, kid. Have you read Catcher In The Rye? Because don't. Ever."