Lily's like, "Um, why is everybody shitting themselves about this? It was just a cute karaoke video. And the only person that got hurt was Rachel Zoë, who is not a person. Why so serious?" Rufus is like, "Because the one thing I've felt was secure in this life was that my children are marginally less fucked up than your children." Lily's like, "In no way is that true. Even my son the serial rapist is a better person than your awful children." He's like, "But now I can't ignore it. And it's because of the Upper East Side and all the rest of your disgusting perverted kind." Lily's about to remind him who pays the motherfucking bills when they notice all the giant paper pompons littering every conceivable surface in PRADA. It looks like Martha Stewart exploded and she was full of Tribbles. Lily's like, "This must be my gay son's doing." Eric's like, "Yeah, but I helped too." Rufus is like, "I guess Dan's not completely worthless like the rest of you, if he's still got enough heart to come over here and make cheap crafts we'll have to clean up later. In lieu of discussing things like an adult, I mean." Lily knows what he means; she kisses him for it. And to shut him up.

Dan comes home to sour dour Vanessa and lists his crimes: Wrecked Blair's birthday, betrayed Nate by stealing the treaty, disappointed Rufus which is so fuckin' hard to do, and ruined their anniversary. Vanessa's like, "The suck is strong in you, Padawan, but until you really commit to it they're never going to hate you like they hate me. These occasional glimmers of awesome, in addition to your new haircut and sick bod, are going to make this a downhill battle. But give it time. Because you have the makings of just a dizzyingly monstrous piece of Brooklyn trash." Then they have a sex hallucination but instead of it being weird and kind of awesome, it's just like: A french fry on a rainy-day sidewalk. Somebody getting whiskey dick and feeling bad about himself, wondering if maybe he's gay. Being the temp in a new office, on the day they have cake for all the birthdays that month. Learning that a favorite young actor of yours passed away over the weekend. Wool when it squeaks.