Looks like Rico and Vanessa managed to defuse their little conflict, because Rico's sitting at the dinner table with her and the Fedriquitos. Vanessa says grace, which, to Rico's disappointment, consists entirely of "Thank you, God, for this food. Amen." Rico complains about the abbreviated grace -- "gra," if you will -- but Vanessa blows it off and the meal begins. One of the kids offers Rico some Fritos, which triggers a flashback to Illeana waking him up in the last episode by pelting him with them. Rico smiles at his son and politely declines: "I'm good." See, he's getting what he needs in places other than home, which of course makes him less desperate and more attractive. Or maybe that scene was just filler.

Back at Nate's birthday party, Brenda delivers a beer to Tom. She still apparently hasn't got one for Nate, and he flashes a look of annoyance at her. Get your own beer, birthday boy. You're forty, not paraplegic. Anyway, Nate's in this conversational grouping with Tom and Billy and Todd, the last of whom is explaining how his wife Dana got more and more distant until he found out she was having sex with some guy with testicular cancer. "She's fucking Lance Armstrong," Todd complains. Tom naturally takes him literally and gets all excited. Todd clichés that, now that he's divorced, he's getting mad tail. "Forty is just the beginning," he concludes, as Brenda arrives with Nate's beer. Billy -- standing there all twitchy in his "Ski Iraq" shirt (which is a loose, ratty, sleeveless rag) -- tells a story about a guy he'd seen in Griffith Park who'd fallen off his bike and ripped open his scrotum: "It was like two pink eggs kind of vibrating in this totally shredded mess." I'm never going to Griffith Park as long as I live. "Jesus, Billy, what the fuck?" Nate complains as he goes to answer the door. It's David and Keith, the latter of whom blames his partner for making them late by needing a haircut. "Well, it looks good, I guess," Nate says, even though David's hair looks exactly the same as always. "So how long have you two fuckers known about this?" Nate says, faux-angry without much faux. "What else aren't you telling me?" "Nothing," David answers nervously. The other guys move off to get cake, Tom still excited about Lance Armstrong. "Dude, I was speaking metaphorically," Todd says.