Caye Caulker, Belize—

When you feel yourself crumbling, fading out, you usually react in an impetuous, flakey manner, and succumb to your id, despite the protests or concerns of those close to you. It's a dramatic, selfish shriek for help because it's dark where you are. Hurry, someone trip the circuit breaker before someone gets hurt or, you know, jams a Q-tip into their brain.

Three characters in this week's Girls are shrieking:

1. Hannah
2. Marnie
3. Adam, oh, Adam

Fuck Shoshanna and her Ray problems cuz this swim is for young adults only.

Hannah struggles with her e-book and visits her editor for guidance, OCD still in full bloom. Her first draft is dreadful and much too safe, he says. She's crestfallen by his reaction but understands. "I fucked a teenager last week," she says, offering a solution for the dullness. The editor's eyes light up the way all editor's eyes light up when a writer courts danger. Hannah's on it. Yolo.

She goes home, sits on her wood floor, begins to stare at her laptop in search of the perfect opening sentence. (How about, "I fucked a teenager with a weird haircut in a graveyard last weekend?" That's grabby.)

But first she needs to stand up to yank on her vagina 8 times. She sits too quickly on the old wood floor and gets a splinter in her ass. It's that kind of day. She takes it upon herself to get it out, though, Rambo-style, with Tweezers, some rubbing alcohol, Band-Aids, and Q-tips. The Q-tips are too tough to resist though and she sticks it in her ear, searching for wax, missing buttons, loose change, what have you. She pushes too far. Pop. Hiss. Shriek. She calls her parents for help but they don't, so she heads to the hospital alone. Her attending doctor plucks the Q-tip out with great exasperation. Go home, he tells her, it'll be fine. Now stop shrieking.

I've moved locations to write about Marnie because she's so stupid. So the rest of this recap comes to you two beers in this morning with this as a view.

I'm fine, thanks for asking. All the locals are nice and accommodating, especially all the ragamuffins down by The Split. They call me "Albert" because that's what the name on my credit card says. They pronounce it "El-Burt" and I'm okay with that.

Yesterday I got lost three times on the way back to my cabin and almost pissed myself twice. One time I cut off into the bushes off the sandy path, away from as many people on bikes as possible. It turns out I pissed on a grave site. I would like to take this opportunity to apologize to the ghost of this Belizian baby. Sorry, baby. XO, ELBURT.

Speaking of pissing on baby's graves, dim Marnie is still serious about this singing thing and decides that her first live performance will be at a work party thrown by Charlie's new company. She stands up in front of a roomful of Charlie's new employees and sycophants and dedicates this song to them. "This is such a big deal, this premature success you've all had." Then she sings the song she wrote, a spastic, Lana Del Ray crooner, of which a certain NBC news anchor would most likely pan. Charlie's also not impressed. He grabs her arm and marches her back to his office for some real talk. He asks her what's wrong. Things are tense. Charlie says she's flailing. Marnie yells she's not. Before they can make a mockery out of Bell Day, Charlie grabs her close and kisses her hard. They fuck on the desk. Bell Day is saved, but Marnie is most likely not.

And now, Adam. We last saw him, reasonably composed, gleeful, even, after he begins a new romance with the daughter of a woman he met in AA. Things have progressed nicely with Natalia, and when we first meet them this episode they're about to have sex. She gives him specific instructions on how she likes to be done and he's impressed, relieved even. "I like how you're so clear," he says, right before they start to bone. But, of course, it can't stay so clear forever. Later, Natalia brings Adam to her friend's engagement party. He senses a bubbling, familiar discomfort inside himself at this party. He's introduced to one of her friends and she says this: "Take care of this girl, she's our Mother Teresa— that is if Mother Teresa blew one of your cousins." Ha. Ha. Ha. "It was a long time ago," the friend adds. Ha. Ha. Ha.

Like it MATTERS.

Adam falls off the wagon. Natalia doesn't seem to mind. He drinks like an alcoholic full of rage would drink the rest of the night and, yet, she still agrees to go back to his place even though things are bound to get weird. "Get on all fours," Adam commands her. She does. "Now crawl to my bed." Reluctantly, she does. Before she reaches it, Adam grabs her and begins fucking her from behind. He has no patience to wait for her instructions this time. He pumps her and commands her to say pleasant things about him . In under ten seconds, he's flipping her over. "No not on my chest!," she protests. Too late cuz here comes the jizz bomb. He wipes her down with his shirt even though she didn't ask him to do so. "I didn't like that all," she says. He's scared her. He knew he would. "So is this it?" Natalia just stares, makes a face that doesn't seem promising.

Good. Both of them should run right now. Before it gets too dark.