Nancy wakes up at the beginning of this week’s episode, hair rumpled, and realizes she’s living in a frat house. Is that what’s been irking us, too? All the sinister shenanigans that our coy, industrious Nancy pursues used to be offset by her prefab home, with its view of the kidney-shaped pool glistening in the background. Now it’s all morning gas and scrambled eggs in cups. And so she shrieks about getting her own bathroom. (And Silas declares he wants his own room, since his little brother keeps making the bunk bed vibrate. Ew.)
Nancy, in other words, needs money. And that means pot to sell, sell, sell. She calls in her old dealer friends to see what the market can sustain: Marvin, U-Turn's chunky lieutenant-slash-murderer, who hilariously claims he lost ten pounds; Lupita, the sharp-tongued, businesslike housekeeper; Sanjay and the massive 2-week-old baby from his one-night stand; and Clinique, who apparently shot the giant baby out “like a Pez.” Sadly, Romany Malco’s Conrad is not among them, and nor is his ass.
Speaking of mother love: The theme is really growing legs. Celia takes a drug run to Mexico (for designer Botox) with her blooming lesbian daughter, Isabelle. And later, as things take a turn to the Freudian (Shakespearean? Just plain freaky?), Isabelle happens upon a stash of naked photos of Nancy, back during her early marital bliss. “Hi, Mrs. Botwin,” she croons, as Nancy enters the room — fresh from a severe spanking from the mayor of Tijuana. Which brings us back to the pot: Nancy trades the “punishment” for the connect, seeming, as she dazedly inspects her bright red right butt cheek in the mirror, like the punishment was what she really wanted in the first place. Which brings us back to the freaky sex stuff: A resplendent, almost 18-year-old Silas “getting his calcium” from the unnaturally perky MILF who owns a quaint cheese shop; and Shane making the bed vibrate with the photos of his own mother in nothing but a bowler hat as inspiration. Nancy’s parental insouciance seems to be manifesting some ominous Oedipal effects. Ew. —Emma Pearse