Over at Mommy Park Rebekah is questioning if Avi's baby mama was even in the Army, and Shawn -- with catlike reflexes -- responds that the military-industrial complex would never let the truth get out. Rebekah demands Cheryl's phone, and the reflexes kick in again. "Great! And maybe I'll tell them about Allison's little prescription friends. Not supposed to be driving with a child in the vehicle on those, are you Ally? And Cheryl, I'm not sure how they'd feel about a woman who still lets her five-year-old breastfeed." Everybody about barfs.
"And Rebekah, you don't need anyone looking into the visa status of your housekeeper, do you? What is she, Honduran? Guatemalan?" Not just blackmail, but CPS-related blackmail. Kid's a ninja. If killing international bad guys makes you this great, no wonder I'm so obsessed with General Petraeus. (Nickname: "Peaches." For real!) The mommies stare at each other and think about what gross Celias they all are and Shawn takes off with Avi, a hardcore Don't fuck with me, bitches tossed back over his tiny shoulder. (Peaches!)
Why did the boot on the van happen? Randy says it's payback, the titular boomerang of karma: "Of course the plates Silas and I stole would be from a felon-level scofflaw." We didn't see that go down, but then neither did Nathalie. "Where was I?" Andy (now) says the most insightful thing anybody's said in a while, now: "Not where: Who." Because Daredevil Girl isn't a place, she has no territory: She's a sovereign nation. Eminent domain. Imminent for sure. Immanent, even:
"You're 'Nancy Botwin,' and since it didn't directly affect you you didn't fucking notice." While Andy fights the boot, Nancy stares around and feels entitled for a sec before asking why he's so mad at her all of a sudden. "Judgy"? She practically snorts, because whatevs. "Weird hair"? "Limp hair"? Nancy pretends to be a human person: "I don't have any idea where that came from. I suppose I had thoughts. They chose that moment to come out."
This is the next awesome thing Andy -- as he's taking an ill-advised blowtorch to the boot -- says: "Not thoughts, you had feelings." Which is the part of the territory Nancy still hasn't figured out: The fact that they are different things. It's not that she represses her emotions, it's that she doesn't really have them. She doesn't believe in them, anyway. Ask a person that lives in their head, a Thinking type, how they're feeling and it'll take them an hour to pull it up, from the gut.