"Do you have any Neosporin?" Nancy looks through her purse -- hair gone crazy, yet again, from this experience -- and comes up with Twizzlers, tampons, and a Tide stick. No problem. Esteban attempts to sit her back down and have normal lunch, because people are watching and need to know it's okay. Nancy points out that he didn't drink from his beer when he was toasting the crowd, which is bad luck, and he says he doesn't like drinking from the bottle. Me neither. A shaky person who has no problem with that is named Nancy Botwin, and she downs it in one: "But then, I have trouble breathing after I've been shot at, which clearly you don't, so... I guess we all have our things."
"Another school, another first day," says Isabelle: "Another sweaty glass of social stigma." You know what's going to be awesome? Watching Allie Grant continue to transcend Disney for the rest of our lives. She's so great, and so young, and she's going to be doing this forever. That's going to be awesome. Shane tries to mantrify Isabelle that they are interesting and worthwhile people, but she's coming from the School of Hodes where you ain't shit, biscuit. "Yeah, well. If only life were a Judd Apatow movie where geeks rule the world. But it's not, so let's just suck it up." Word. Not to mention that it's not even realistic in the way of movies, because Seth Rogan is so the hot male version of the naughty librarian where the guy falls for her and nobody in the movie can believe it but you're like, "Um, no matter how many pairs of spectacles you put on Rachael Leigh Cook at one time, she's still fucking hot."
Shane locates the most popular boy in school and says hello, is greeted with a warm and open smile, and then bashes Dan's face in with a lunch tray. "Don't fuck with me," he says. Isabelle is horrified. How many fucked up things are they putting on Shane's plate this year? Graft, Oedipal masturbation, and now jailhouse preemptive strikes? Wake me up when he starts arming himself.
"Medium, large, large, small, petite... Petite maternity... Heh." Celia's still high as shit; some lady walks up and asks for a green sweater in blue. "Nice choice!" she says, slings her scarf over her shoulder like Amelia Earhardt, and rings up the sweater. "Forty! Two! Ninety! Nine! Pleeeeease. You want the box? A bag? The box the bag?" The lady's like, "Your freaky behavior is hilarious, but no. I just want it in blue?" Celia asks why she didn't say so, and hurls herself at the rack, which the lady has already checked. She runs back to Ignacio, forgets why she's there, and begs for more drugs. "Soccer shoe, soccer shoe..." He gives her a hit without looking up from his futbol game, and she snorts it gratefully. "Goal!" She runs back out, where the lady is still waiting for her to accomplish basic shit. So... "So what?" Um, so do you have it blue? "Just take the green come on come on come on green is the color of spriiiiing who's next? Let's go!" The lady bounces.