Frank wakes up at a frat house with a hefty hula girl lying across him, because sure. She sees him, figures out they did it, considers how fucking gross he is, and immediately starts crying and barfing all over his dick. It's rather remarkable; he pulls his jeans up around the barf and tears and heads on back home, because that is literally the grossest thing you can think of.

Back home, Eddie Jackson has become a "Promisemaker" and he's all about "Purity Balls" and other Showtime-type things that were relevant about ten years ago but this show just found out about and decided to make fun of. If only Kevin Nealon could be here. If only Kevin Nealon could be fucking up every show at once. Anyway, Karen tells him to fuck off about eleven times, and he slips a picture of them when she was little under the bathroom door, and she is actually touched, but not enough to give in.

Which, I do have to give props on this, because this is the only show I can think of that actually expresses properly the rage of the inadequately parented. I'm not talking about whiny Baby Boomer ingratitude, I'm talking about actual abuse and neglect. What Steve will characterize as being raised by wolves. That particularly seething anger kids feel when they look at their "elders" and finally realize their particular elders are not worthy of even a little respect, which cognitive dissonance pretty much feels like the ceiling is crushing in on you at all times like an Indiana Jones trap, and from which the only rescue is time. Assuming you survive.

Acrobatic post-sex post-slumber cuteness in Fiona's bed with Steve, and she's starting to notice he's not so attentive these days, and he asks her about that computer class she was so excited about, and she lies about that, and the walls get higher, and she even makes a Jenny McCarthy immunization joke but he's already gone.

Downstairs, Debbie hounds them both about her suspicions, but neither of them knows what she's talking about. Fiona invites Steve to a family movie night after making a joke about his tiny perfect ass, but he can't come; when Debs presses him more directly he bends down and twinkles at her, false for the first time: "Truth? I'm in the CIA, and this is all just a cover." If she didn't know before, she knows now: It's the wolves. He's one of them.

Frank makes small talk with one of the Alibi waitresses, whom he apparently slept with at some sad low point, and then gets a call (Alex Borstein, always fairly awesome, playing a lawyer-daycare-doula-kennel operator, naturally) about how one of his many Curly Sue schemes has finally come through and he's received a settlement. I fucking hate it when things go Frank's way.