Isabelle is disturbed that he told Nancy about his threesome: "Have I taught you nothing? Tell her what she wants to hear, and then do what you want." Speaking of moms, how is Celia doing in rehab. Imagine your children having these conversations. Isabelle says that she's got it all figured out: Maternity World is obviously a front, and both of their moms are dealing coke, but Celia is weaker and more addiction-prone. Isabelle still doesn't know Nancy very well. Isabelle wishes, like Silas before them, that they could just be 18 already; she asks if he's going to dump the goths. "Why, because a slaphappy drug dealer told me to? Screw that." Well, good. Don't hit your kids. Parenting is about self-control. That is literally all parenting is about: not giving yourself a pass at any point. Nancy's written herself so many passes that anybody could see how much erosion her authority is wearing. Shane is right, I'm sorry, but this war is over. He nods the goth-skanks over and introduces them to Izzy. "Do you party?" they ask. "Depends on the party," she answers. When precisely did this storyline go from being the most ludicrous one to the most realistic?

Mermex is worried to be walking along the beach pseudoromantically with Doug, but he tells her that, absent coming out of the surf fully dressed with a dozen Mexicans, she looks just like a real live girl. They attempt to get to know each other, which is a bad idea for Doug, because what Doug is, is: awful. The embezzlement, the not-quite-finalized divorce, his abandoned children -- all of it comes out in three seconds. Then he gets into a fight with a little kid after stepping on his sandcastle. Mermex realizes that she's in over her head with a total douchenozzle, and gets sick to her stomach; she asks if they can stop talking, I'd imagine permanently, and he's icky some more. "Let the silence bring us closer. I can dig it." Girl, the call is coming from inside the house.

Barry atones in group, with a speech about how he "let the plane fly [him]" and how if it weren't for Celia taking control of his life for two seconds he'd come to the end of his thirty days and be right back up there, snorting off the dashboard and "jamming blow up my urethra so I could fuck Paula the 57-year-old flight attendant." Wow. Even the most jaded upper-middle-class white person there is like, "Whoa." He apologizes to Celia for freaking out, and everybody claps. Celia Hodes gives a pretty bleak, funny/scary speech about how rehab is like "one big wonderful dysfunctional family" and she loves them. I would love it if this were like day two of her stay at the clinic.