While staying over, Jess's friend CeCe made a mantourage of Schmidt and Winston, then ramped up Jess's crazy by spotting Jess and Nick's subconscious flirtation
Jess’s friend CeCe may have been the one calling the shots, but Schmidt owned this episode. From the mini-kimono to the paralyzing fear of a mangy roof cat (“it was raised by birds!”) to the list of things he loves about India (especially chut-i-ney), it was his night to shine — with or without buckets of baby oil on his chest. It’s official: I have cleaned out a drawer in my heart for Schmidt. So we’ll start with him and mosey around until our feet are pointed directly at the weirdness-turned-sigh-inducing adorableness between Jess and Nick.
Friday night. Jess rescued CeCe from her cheating boyfriend (of three weeks), a European DJ with a face tattoo and a penchant for deep Vs. Since Deep V-jay was staying at CeCe’s apartment, she drunk-begged Jess to let her stay at the apartment for the weekend. Given Jess’s maternal instincts (did you see her cutely hand CeCe a bag of pretzel sticks outside of the club like an after-school snack?), of course she caved.
The ladies arrived home to find the guys “doing them.” By which I mean Schmidt was going commando in an ass-high kimono (“It’s on and poppin’!”). Winston ripped off his pants and was wrapping napkins around his body in retaliation. Schmidt: “You are laughing in the face of thousands of years of Japanese history. It’s an affront, Winston. An affront! This [kimono] is hand-crafted… in China.” For his part, Nick hoped for nothing more than some QT with his videogames and a little alone time to “do weird stuff on [his] computer.” Once Winston and Schmidt sandwiched CeCe for a lights-on, Jersey Shore-style dance party, and Schmidt shook his rump like a seasoned club ho (awesome!), Nick realized his plans were shot.
Schmidt successfully herded CeCe into his bedroom (Winston: “Are you sheepdogging her?”), only to miss his window when he spent the next 15 minutes jumping off the walls and rolling on the floor in a Parkour-inflected victory dance that somehow morphed into an Apolo Anton Ohno-style speed skate into his room. By then, CeCe had passed out, and it was the couch for Schmidt.
NEXT: Nothing makes for romance like baby oil and… gravity boots?