That night, Whitney meets Erin, A-holette and Sami for a girly round table. Apropos of nothing, the others immediately start hating on Olivia, and Whitney is all, "But listen to this..." She gives them the scoop on Olivia's betrayal: She took credit for florals, that bitch! Whitney isn't sure if she should set things straight with her bosses, or if that will just make things worse. Everyone reacts exactly as you would expect -- Erin tells Whitney to stoop to Olivia's level. Sami, the actual semi-adult, silently shakes her head, all, "Noooo! Bad idea, girl." And A-holette basically advises Whitney to lie down and take it. Sound familiar?
Erin shifts the conversation by asking how Jay responded to the Palermo Offensive. This line of questioning prompts Whitney to address the stress of having Jay live with her. Erin hopes out loud that Jay is compensating for his wankery with sexual favors. Jesus, Erin! I don't want to sound outmoded, but I'm really beginning to think she is a walking disease factory. That or a 15-year-old boy incognito. But I digress... Whitney specifically takes issue with Jay's coming home at 5:30 a.m. with no respect for her feelings or sleeping situation. She says it's affected their intimacy (yikes) and that the passion is gone. Oh, honey, get out now. It's only been a few months, you can still save yourself. Don't let that shiny hair and indecipherable accent mesmerize you! Whitney says something to this effect, but A-holette justifies, "Jay is a rock star and lives a rock star life." Of course, instead of vindicating Jay, it just shows why A-holette is in the worst relationship in the history of mankind, save for maybe the ones in The Color Purple and every novel by Toni Morrison. Whitney doesn't want to give up quite yet. She's got a whole 'nother season to tape, y'all. So she leaves it hanging. The girls support her indecision, and A-holette advises her to evaluate her relationship. Oh, please. A-holette wouldn't know from self-evaluation if it bit her in the jutting clavicle.
Later, Jay meets A-hole at the Pink Elephant, where there are girls with swans for tits. A-hole can't resist rubbing it in Jay's face that Jay is shacking up and shackled to Whitney. Yeah, like you wanted to be with your girlfriend nary a week ago, you slime ball. Instead of being mature or straightforward, Jay smarms that at least he doesn't have to take Whitney out on dates anymore. The implication, of course, being that he's got an open crotch waiting at home and that he doesn't even have to pay for the little pleasantries that ensure sex anymore. Still, he strikes back for A-hole's snipes, rubbing it in A-hole's face that A-holette moved out. A-hole walks into Jay's elaborate set-up by admitting, "I'm definitely not in the mood to be chasing some ass around every night." Because that, ladies and gentleman, is what relationships boil down to: Chasing ass verus not chasing ass. They toast to ass in general. Dear God, I hate these two. Mainly together, but, these days, independently as well.