WHAT. Like there's a chief of police in the doorway tapping his watch and making the Wrap It Up gesture. "The fact that you're on an actual pay phone has me beyond nauseous," Blair says, once again the only funny or competent person in the world. "Stay strong, S." Dorota shows up with a bottle of DELICIOUS VITAMIN WATER so that Blair won't die about something. Which does Blair want, good news or bad? "Good news first," Blair says. "Always." (Buliiiimia!) But the good news ("There is replacement") doesn't make sense without the bad news, which is that her dress has been destroyed by the dry cleaners, which tatters Dorota won't even let her look at ("This body bag! Corpse not pretty!") before showing her a gigantic box from Paris that contains a dress identical to the one in Blair's scrapbook. Wait, what fucking scrapbook? "My scrapbook I don't remember keeping and haven't looked at since I was an early adolescent!"

Dorota grins like an insane person while Blair flounces around in the dress that resembles one from a scrapbook that everybody in the Upper East Side knows about, but still somehow needs to have explained to them two or three times in each conversation.

Out and about with Chuck, Nate goes on a separate tear about how everything's gone wrong with Prom: The florists "lost" Blair's corsage, the world suddenly has no peonies, and suddenly there are no limousines. I fucking dare you to accept -- for any reason barring parallel universes or something -- that New York City would simultaneously lose all corsages, bouquets of peonies, and limousines. Also Nate's hotel room was cancelled, and since they don't have their own apartment or any friends who own hotels, they will I guess be homeless for Prom. Which is worse than pregnant, even. And then the dress was ruined. So the question is, is Chuck doing all of this? WITH SORCERY? No, he is not. (Except really he is, but sweetly.) "I don't know how many times we need to have this conversation: Blair is yours." Barf.

Also: fifty. Apparently, fifty is the number of times you need to have this conversation.

"Oh, what a restorative nap that was!" CeCe says, like people do, and Lily tells her she might need some VITAMIN WATER or something because she's not going to feel great for very long. The woman beat cancer at 70 without anybody finding out she was even sick, before she even had time to recover from beating imaginary cancer. She does a very cool switch in tone, leveling with Lily: "Eric out of earshot?" He's at a movie with his boyfriend, like in every other scene perhaps, and CeCe's all, "You're going to what, Lily, hack me to pieces, suffocate me with a pillow?" Graphic, CeCe. Lily tells her to get the fuck out of her house for the twentieth time, because she is "toxic" and because Lily fears turning into her. They talk about Carol, but not really, and Lily reiterates for the third time in this conversation, and at least the sixth time today, that CeCe needs to vacate the premises. Happy Mother's Day.