Blair burns one of the staff for putting gladiolas in her cabbage roses, and yells, "The Waldorfs' is not a Best Western!" Eleanor appears, having told Rufus and Lily that their life is pathetic and sad and lonely and that since they're determined to fuck up their anniversary for no real reason at all, why not have a terrible time at a birthday party for a child whom they despise? Rufus and Lily were like, "Awesome!" And they got off the phone and did a happy dance, because apparently they have friends. Or friend.
"I suppose powerful women can afford to be generous," Blair says, and Eleanor's face goes dark. "Also, you invited Charles Bass. I don't need that boy raping Jonathan Franzen." Blair swears they're not fighting and Chuck will be wearing his good-boy hair, and thus being totally ravishing and not molesting anybody. Eleanor's like, "If your twisted obsession is so not bothering you, how come I saw you stab a servant-girl earlier with a melon fork?" "Motherrrrr, it was a fish knife. And I didn't do it because of Chuck, I did it because I am the worst."
Dorota appears, Blair nearly slaps her head off, and Eleanor flees. And Blair, this is awesome, finally just looks at Dorota with sad fawn eyes and goes, "Dorota! What's going on with me?" Outsourcing your own introspection. That is amazing. Dorota picks up the slack as usual, and explains that it's because Blair is mentally ill that she does these things, and then runs away before B she has a chance to grab the garden hose and administer what she likes to call "a little lawn justice."
From the stolen treaty Dan learns their big secret addendum -- "I was expecting something a little bit more American Psycho. Not stabbing a homeless man, but at least feeding a cat to an ATM..." -- and Eric abruptly goes, "Wait, what? Get this plaid shirt off me, this is bullshit. You totally talked me into being shitty like you and Vanessa. I can't believe how idiotic this whole thing is. I must be really starved for male attention. I've been bowtying this bowtie to the point of injury and now I got my whole big brother complex twisted all around into crazy town. Listen, Douchebag Dan, you go ahead and do this stupid plan, but leave me out of it. It's mean and pathetic and also they will kill us."
"They deserve it!" is Dan's response. "They're... They're... They're smug! And they are condescending. They have treaties!" (Huh? This is the problem? God, I fucking hate Dan Humphrey. Of COURSE this is the problem.) Eric's like, "Seeing you all class-enraged for no reason except your own glaring insecurity has got me simultaneously disgusted and turned on. As a scion of the Rhodes Women, that's two more feelings than I'm used to having." But no, it's too late: Faces, lips, the bottom of somebody's foot, a hoptoad, tongues and teeth, tossing hair, handlebar mustache, eyeballs rolling up, smacking butts, a fedora, the jitney strawberries revisited, Nate's old lacrosse uniform. It's everywhere! Sexual lycanthrope is the new Betty White! This thing is a menace!