We rejoin Jeremiah and Codi in the midst of their argument about whether or not Codi and Kirk should be shouting about whether or not they’d have sex with Aimee. Codi defends himself on the grounds of patriotism: “This is fucking America. Everybody judges everybody on a fucking [gestures wildly] look-to-look basis.” He’s not wrong, you know. That’s why the American people elected Donald Trump, the single hunkiest slice of hot beefcake ever to scotch-tape his tie.
Over brunch — a new concept for Aimee — she recounts the Kirk-and-Codi drama to Nilsa, who is appropriately pissed on her pal’s behalf. Aimee, the one person in the house who is not a crier (Kortni does not count; Kortni is a demigod, not a person), can’t hold back her tears. This was the last thing her self-esteem needed: She recounts in a talking-head interview how her ex belittled and insulted her, saying he cheated because she wasn’t good enough. I hope that human fart wakes up in a mysteriously peed-upon bed every morning for the rest of his life. To Kirk and Codi’s credit, they’re horrified and ashamed when they realize how deeply they’ve hurt their friend. I’m glad Floribama Shore is actually grappling with the consequences of their misbehavior, not just shrugging it off as the wacky high jinks of drunk dudes.
Nilsa rallies the group to plan a special “Aimee Appreciation Day” to celebrate the princess-goddess-mermaid who walks among them. The next morning, Aimee wakes up to a full breakfast, then is whisked away to get her nails done. Gus suggests that they take her out for a family meal at a nice restaurant — how about the one he took Nilsa on a date to, where, lest we forget, he spent 150 American dollars on her? (That’s 150 dollar beers.) Codi calls up not just to make a reservation, but to request their finest table with the best view. The woman on the phone kindly explains that the restaurant is in the middle of a mall and fully enclosed. Kirk and Jeremiah even head out to fetch Aimee a corsage, a foreign concept to Jeremiah, who apparently did not attend home-school prom. Aimee, dining on steak and lobster (and sadly not the Bolognese that Gus misreads as “baloney” on the menu), declares this the best day of her life. She feels loved — and all the efforts her new housemates have undertaken to remind her of that are generally touching.
After a successful drunken night-vision encounter and a sober lunch, Nilsa is fully smitten with Jeremiah’s barrel-chested freedom-fighter brother, Josh. She literally screams when he phones her and promises to come back and take her out on a date. Nilsa pays the romance forward by inviting her friend Shawna and her Hot Friend (wee-woo, wee-woo) Katrina to the house. All of the men drool over Katrina, particularly Gus and Jeremiah. At 75 Cent Beer Night (mankind keeps making such great strides in its beer pricing!) at a joint called Player’s, Jeremiah thinks he’s spitting amazing game, what with his hokey dance movies and dad jokes that are less “dad” joke and more “borderline-senile uncle” jokes. (Case in point: “[Flamingos] don’t stop. They always go. That’s why they’re called flamingos.” I’m pretty sure nobody was talking about flamingos when he decided to mention this.) But it’s Gus who seems to be Katrina’s favorite, based solely on the fact that she decides to explain to him that she gets so horny when she’s drunk that she once chipped a tooth. (A) No judgment. (B) How, though?
Quick sidebar: You are probably wondering where Kortni is. What’s our favorite gal in Panama City Beach up to this week? Not long after I asked myself that very question, Kortni more than delivered. The women’s bathroom at Player’s is out of commission (it’s probably for the best that we don’t get specifics on why), so Kortni pees sitting down on a urinal, casually covering her exposed boobs — she was wearing a romper, of course — with one arm. I love you, Kortni.
Okay, back to the main event. Codi says to Nilsa that the boys are taking bets over who can win Katrina’s heart — which he means figuratively, but which Nilsa interprets to literally mean that formal monetary wagers have been collected by some kind of sex bookie. Nilsa passes this information on to Katrina, who promptly begins to cry. By the time Codi clarifies to Nilsa that there was no actual bet, it is far too late. Jeremiah and Gus, both of whom are bewildered by Katrina’s sobs, immediately suspect one another of having committed some grievous, most ungentlemanly wrong against her.
In the battle of big muscles versus tall hair, does anyone really win?