Sugar Bowl. Backstage. Nick and Jessica and crew walk. People shout, "We love you!" They cut out the drunk fans shouting, "Fuck you, bitch!" and "Nick, you're a pussy whipped fool!" Nick then hands Jessica the mic. Ha. She's wearing a baby-puke green yak and twig-leg jeans, and she sings a horrible rendition, as kids stand around her holding up squares of reflecting material that may or may not be vinyl copies of Nick's last album that they're selling for a buck a pop. Nick watches, love in his eyes. Man, that must be some good pussy. Jessica finishes insulting our country and people applaud and commercials.
Back. L.A. House. Day. Nick pours coffee. Jessica sourly voice-overs that today they have Nick's dream dog coming over -- the dog he had when he was a kid -- Huskies. She immediately steps on his shit by bratting that Huskies get really big. Nick tells her she's a goddamn liar. Jessica then tries to make pancakes. She hurts herself with the pot drawer and then almost drops the pan and somehow it hurts her ear and she swears and looks at Nick but he doesn't respond; she keeps going when she gets nothing from him, but he just keeps talking on the phone. She burns the first pancake and then the second and she's totally using the wrong kind of pan. She throws another pancake away. The Huskies arrive! Nick is all psyched. Jessica finally realizes that making the pancakes was a bad idea.
Nick calls Jessica over -- he thinks the dog people are here. A nice couple walk to the door carrying two beautiful Husky puppies. Nick sees them and his face lights up and he makes a squealing noise. He invites them in and they meet the two puppies, Ponderosa and Conifer. (Bad names.) The lady says they were born on the floor of the Downey shelter. Jessica says they smell good and that they're beautiful. Wow. She's warming. Unbelievable. They cost $250 -- for an adoption fee. The lady asks Nick why they want a Husky, and he says that as a kid he had a Husky/Collie mix and it was a great dog. Jessica immediately asks how big they'll get, and the woman says the girl will be fifty pounds, the boy seventy. Nick and Jessica are each holding one and they're so placid and gorgeous (the dogs, not Nick and Jessica). They take the dogs outside, and the one doesn't want to leave Nick's arms but then they start playing. They almost eat a toxic palm plant. But they don't die, and they run off and spazz around, being cute. The lady asks if they'll have a caretaker or if they want a dog that can come with them -- they say that's what they're trying to figure out right now. Nick and Jessica whisper about which they like better, and Nick likes the boy and Jessica likes the girl, because she wants a dog to be prissy and cuddly. Just like Nick. They kiss the dogs goodbye, and the puppy tries to scratch Jessica's face off. Hee. Good dog. The dog people say they'd be willing to give D & D a day or two to decide, and they leave. Nick immediately makes a groaning sad noise as the dogs leave.
Inside, Jessica says the dogs were really pretty but she thinks they're high maintenance. Hi, kettle. This is the pot. You're black. Jessica says they'll be big, and Nick says they already decided on the smaller girl dog and she laughs that the girl will be sixty pounds. What a bitch. She's already lying and rounding up on the figures, trying to talk him out of what he wants. Nick sits on the counter of the kitchen. She says he looks sad. He says he had to give his dog away as a kid. She asks if he's going to cry, then laughs at him and looks around to the camera crew. She doesn't hug him or anything. She says now she understands where this is all coming from -- that he had to get rid of his Husky for a little dog when he was a kid. Basically, she's dismissing all of his dreams and desires. You selfish, selfish girl. He says they could get two dogs, one for him and one for her. She wonders if they'd get along, and he says that if you bring them up together, it'll be fine. They'll build camaraderie. "Camaraderie?" says Jessica. She doesn't think it's the right word. Jessica says that camaraderie is not the right word, that it doesn't mean that. She thinks it means "attention." Lord. Then again, I'm pretty sure every word in her mind means attention. As in, pay attention to Jessica. Look at Jessica. Give Jessica some camaraderie. She thought "camaraderie" meant "accolade." She eventually gives up. Wow, you know it's bad when you start saying to yourself mid-sentence, "Man, I really am pretty fucking stupid." Commercials.