As we go on
We remember
All the times we
Had together
And as our lives change
Come whatever
We will still be
Friends forever…
There may be no formal commencement ceremony scheduled for Dollar-Beer University’s School of Continuing Thot Studies, but Vitamin C still feels like the right choice to send off our season finale. I, for one, will never be the same.
Moments after Aimee pushed Kirk and launched a squeezable mayo missile with coordinates set directly for his skull, Nilsa does her best to shepherd her heated housemates into bed. But this isn’t over. Kirk bangs angrily on a door on his way upstairs. “She’s lucky that’s not her fucking face, for real,” he says. Aimee comes for him with the same murderous intensity that is the No. 1 symptom of the 28 Days Later zombie-rage virus. Gus, his toothbrush precariously dangling in his mouth, restrains her and her flailing limbs at the bedroom door, then Nilsa seals Aimee in the bathroom for the collective safety of everyone in the house.
Kirk sounded just like her ex, Aimee explains, and it triggered her. “No one knows how bad I’ve suffered,” she sobs. There is no excuse for Aimee’s violence, which was alarming and unacceptable, but the more she talks about her last relationship, the more concerned I am for her emotional wellbeing. Anyhoo, tomorrow is family day! How’s that for a fun transition?
“Call my mom hot, we’re fucking fighting,” Kirk preemptively warns, spoken like a man who knows his mom is hot. (Sorry, Kirk, but she is, and so is your stepdad!) Gus shares an emotional embrace with his mother, whom he hasn’t seen for six months; Aimee’s mom slaps her twerking daughter’s ass in the confessional booth. Candace has taken it upon herself to do battle with the disgusting dishes in the sink and the mystery stains on the carpet to prepare for the arrival of her “super conservative” parents. Indeed, Toya and Ray eye all the beer bottles in the recycling bin skeptically. But before they have the chance to remop the floors with freshly consecrated holy water, the spirit of Jeremiah appears to them in all his inexplicably shirtless, pec-flexing glory. Toya proceeds to melt into a giggling, tipsy puddle, pouring Crown Royal into her more-brown-than-orange mimosas and prodding Jeremiah’s muscles like he’s a non-dancing junior ensemble member of a touring production of Magic Mike Live. Meanwhile, Candace’s dad is roped into shotgunning one, then two beers, after which point he decides the correct course of action — nay, the only course of action — is to do some shots. Of course, Ray ends up arm-wrestling with Jeremiah. Of course, Jeremiah gets invited to Thanksgiving at Candace’s house. Of course, I am extremely jealous because I would love to hang with Toya and Ray.
Everyone debriefs to their parents (except Jeremiah, whose folks couldn’t make it, and who has his hands full scream-dabbing with Josh anyway) about their interpersonal drama du jour. They are without exception kind and understanding. My personal MVP is Nilsa’s dad, who reassures her that at the ripe old age of 23 (Nilsa, sweet baby), she does not in fact qualify as a lost spinster cause. “When you wanna get drunk, you get drunk. When you wanna get laid, you get laid,” he says.
Once the families are gone, it’s time for beer pong. It’s also time for Kirk and Aimee to make amends. He apologizes for what he said and compliments her shoving ability. “I am really, like, genuinely sorry for hitting you with the mayonnaise bottle and pushing you,” Aimee tells him, a sentence that could only ever be heard on Floribama Shore. Codi is due back shortly from South Carolina, where he attended his grandfather’s funeral. Aimee and Nilsa, who is dressed for the occasion in a unicorn onesie and thigh-high boots, have plans for a warmer-than-usual welcome. Aimee and Nilsa hide behind the couch, and when he approaches, they jump out to moon and flash him, respectively. Codi is genuinely touched, and somehow, so am I. “I walk in and see the two things I love the most,” he recalls fondly to the camera, “Booties and boobies.”
For their last dinner together, the housemates cook up a low-country boil, loading up a single pot with corn, potatoes, sausage, crab, crawfish, shrimp, and enough Old Bay to fill Camden Yards. The boys take the last remaining live crawfish and prank Candance with it, as is the law of the low-country boil. After a pre-dinner prayer and a post-dinner group hug, the gang throws their pillows and mattresses onto the floor for a “snuggle puddle” mass sleepover. Codi hula-dances into the room in a coconut bra and grass skirt, which he strips off to reveal flag briefs beneath them, complete with an obligatory ass eagle. Then he dog-piles on all his friends. Such is America.
The last day is appropriately gloomy and gray. There is no shortage of emotion as the newly forged BFFs head out the door for the last time. Most everyone has achieved some measure of personal growth, we’re informed in Animal House–style epilogue titles, as if a summer of televised binge-drinking in a house with strangers is a universal rite of passage we can all relate to. Aimee learned to love herself, Kortni moved out of her parents’ place, homeschooled Jeremiah feels considerably less sheltered, and, most importantly, Gus now works as a cover model for romance novels. And so the Tin Man gets a heart, and Dorothy gets her chi-chis up.
As Kortni flawlessly puts it, “I blacked out, I acted out, I got ratchet, and I definitely want to do this again.” Engrave that on my gravestone, and then mail my gravestone to Viacom HQ (1515 Broadway, New York, NY 10036) as tribute for a second season of Floribama Shore.
