Crowded

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Hey, handsome. What's taking you so long?

I'm making you want it more.

It's working.

We can do it right here

and not walk up stairs...

apply the energy that we saved to the sex.

The kitchen? So dirty.

Really dirty.

_

The kitchen is so dirty.

Really dirty.

I guess the experiment of waiting to see

if the girls would clean up after themselves

didn't turn out so hot.

That was a swing and a miss.

I was up all night helping Shea fill out job applications.

Good. Maybe she'll get a job and fill up that gas tank.

Apparently they think the flashing red E

stands for "excellent, keep driving."

Well, at least Stella broke up with Justin.

So that's good.

Although there has been a lot of rebounding.

High-school guys had the decency

to sneak out the window.

Now they come downstairs, and I have to pretend

like I don't want to punch them in the face.

You know what would take our minds off of this?

Remember that naked thing we used to do?

It has been a while.

Martina Moore.

Hello, Jeremy.

Sorry.

I should take this in my office.

So no naked thing.

- Morning, Dad. - Hey, sweetie.

I finally got my applications off

to every astrophysics lab I could find.

Oh, well, that's good.

Is it? What if I don't get in anywhere?

Focus on my social life, you say?

I don't think so, 'cause that's a complete disaster.

Maybe there's some larger perspective

that you could take solace from.

You're right.

Life is short, random, and ultimately pointless.

There you go.

Oh, hey, guys, what are you still doing up?

It's morning, Stella.

Oh, that explains a lot.

That's one crazy-looking wig.

- It's not a wig. - I like it.

Thanks, Dad.

This girl Jessica did it.

We got wasted, and she cut it, and I honestly think

she's gonna be the next big thing...

not in hairdressing, but in telling people what to do.

Oh, it's your grandparents.

The new rule is they have to text

before they come over, and then I can text back...

"Not home."

And send.

I'm a genius.

What do you mean you're not home?

We can see you, genius!

What's the purpose of a text

if you're just gonna barge in anyway?

How should we know? It's your system.

Oh, good Lord, girl, your hair is pink.

I know, right?

Hi, everyone.

Oh, this is my new friend Jessica.

She's completely freegan, has a sick Instagram,

and she knows Drake.

I don't know

if those are positive or negative qualities.

Nice to meet all of you.

- Stell, I got to bounce. - Okay, bye, Jess.

Oh, my God!

You cut your hair!

So, what, you're gay now?

Dad, just because I slept with a girl

doesn't mean I'm a lesbian.

Doesn't it, though?

You know whose fault this is?

The Democrats?

Not this time.

This comes from all that

"everything you do is great" parenting.

Why are you here?

Well, certainly not to see my granddaughter

kiss somebody else's granddaughter.

Come on, Alice, let's go.

It really is no big deal.

She's right. Sexuality is very fluid now.

People don't adhere to specific traditional labels.

What's wrong with labels?

That's how you know what stuff is.

See? This is water.

That's vodka.

I fill it before I go out.

I don't do bar prices.

Great. Thrifty but criminal.

More labels... criminal, gay.

You're so uptight about everything.

I mean, Mom slept with a woman.

- What? - What?

It was in college before I met you.

It's nothing.

No, it's not nothing if your husband

doesn't know about it, but your daughters do.

The girls are my friends.

What am I?

Dad, I don't want to boring-shame you,

but your Disney prince would be Snow White's prince,

and his name was literally just "The Prince."

You're a little vanilla when it comes to this stuff.

You are what you eat.

Yeah, yeah, Dad's vanilla,

but we're all cool and gay.

Well, I'm not gay, but maybe if I were less straight,

it would broaden my opportunities.

I keep telling you to try a dating app.

That's how I met Jessica.

I don't know.

Why can't I just meet somebody

getting stuck in a revolving door

or sharing the same taxi

or having a big conglomerate open up across the street

from my mom-and-pop bookstore?

And then I meet the head of the conglomerate,

and darn it if he doesn't drive me crazy

in the beginning...

but then he wins me over.

Mom and I will help you make a dating profile,

and you've got nothing to worry about.

I've seen you naked, and your boobs

are like two perfect handfuls of perky.

I'm out.

And there's nothing wrong with vanilla.

They're exotic beans, and their flavor is exquisite.

Oh, so good.

What's bothering you, huh?

Is it that free-love, hippie-commune thing

you got going on at your place?

You miss Nixon, don't you?

Every day.

Look, you made a big stink that we should talk more, so talk.

All right, fine.

Martina and I used to have a good, frequent thing going,

and now that the girls are home, it's not happening at all.

Wah, wah. Stop crying. You'll ruin your dress.

I'm sorry, habit. Go on.

So I think I got it figured out.

The girls are poisoning Martina against me.

They say I'm vanilla. She sees me as vanilla.

And she doesn't want to have sex with vanilla.

It's like the old days. It's three against one.

I wish I had a son.

It isn't that great.

Look, I went through something similar with your mother,

and it's one of the reasons why we split up.

She was a free spirit, into all that New Age crap,

and, well, she saw me as a square cop

who wouldn't try new things.

You can't let this slide, Mike.

You got to spice things up.

How do you propose I do that?

Well, I got some tips from movies.

Movies?

You know...

movies.

Are you talking about porn?

Yeah, but I'm trying to be a little classy.

All right, you got a computer, don't you?

You won't believe what they got going on

in that thing.

I know what they got going on in that thing.

I'm just more of a magazine guy.

I don't need plot.

I don't care how the pizza got there.

Y'all talking about porn?

I have to say, your father became

a much better lover after we watched a few films.

You have to say that?

It seems like you want to say that.

Okay, ToastUp is the greatest dating app ever.

So your picture and your profile

are your slice of bread,

and when you match with other slices,

they pop up out of a toaster.

Okay, Shea, how would you describe your look?

My face is fairly symmetrical,

average height,

hips regrettably boyish.

I'll put "banging."

Personality?

Typical scientist... methodical, logical.

Brain also "banging."

Okay, for fun, I filled out profiles