A maid shows Ozzy some clothes. He says they aren't his. Wow. Good scene.
Jack's room. Jack invites more people over. The camera finds a little bag of McDonald's sundae peanuts on which someone has written, "Jack's Nut Sack." Eh. Jack is telling the person on the phone that they have to do vodka shots with Jack or they're not invited to the party. Jack is also telling us, "I need help."
Kelly and Robert come to Sharon. Kelly tells Sharon that it's going to be so awful when she leaves, because she's not going to be there to mediate. Sharon says that Bad Nanny and David (?) will be there. Lola has a better chance of keeping Jack in line. Kelly says that if Sharon could have seen Jack last night, she would have punched him. Sharon says that Kelly did punch and kick Jack this morning. Robert says that was "pretty sweet." Hee. Sharon says that Jack is a good boy, and Kelly says she knows that. "He still sleeps with a fucking teddy bear, for God's sake, Mom." Sharon geniusly deduces that it's "insecurity." Whoa! Where did you ever come up with that assessment? If only Sharon were as good at diagnosing "alcoholism" as she is "insecurity." Kelly says that if Jack is drunk this weekend, he's getting his ass kicked. Sharon says she's going to talk to him. She says she wants them to remember that it's hard for him. That's not the first time she's said that. But what the hell does that mean? What's hard for him? Getting drunk and laid all the time in his fucking mansion? I'm playing the world's tiniest English-made pudgy violin for him right now.
Jack's room. Still on the phone, he says that they can be as loud as they want, there is security there if anyone gets out of hand, and his mom doesn't care. Jack says they can get away with more at the house than they could at any club. Well, that's true. Poor Jack. Working so hard to have friends. Next he'll be offering them a hundred bucks to come over. (All of this is very telling in light of what he recently told MTV about why he went into rehab -- about how he realized he was hanging out with all these thirty-year-old losers who were going nowhere in life. Uh, Jason Dill, I'm looking in your dirty direction.)