'New Girl' season 2, episode 4 recap: 'Neighbors'

This episode was all over place, amirite Newbies? The connection between judgmental hipster douchemonkeys and Nick’s undying devotion to pranking was a bit of a stretch. More to the point, I did not care for the pervasive, insidious undercurrent of anti-Schmidtism. It would have been one thing if Nick’s virtuoso pranking were merely a throughline, but — coupled with the judgments of the hipster neighbors — last night’s episode was almost sad. It’s a credit to Max Greenfield for finding a way to infuse heart into one of the most absurd, caricature-ish personalities on TV. All of which is to say, Schmidt’s my boy, and I will protect him and his douchebag jar until my last breath. As long as he stops wearing skinny jeans.

It all began around the time Jess’s underemployment was wearing thin on the guys. Turns out, working at the Casserole Shanty wasn’t a very fulfilling job, so she was biding her time by watching TGIF marathons and working on her Urkel impression. (Nick: “Not in my darkest moments did I do Urkel.”) Amid this soul searching, the new neighbors — zygotes with irritatingly twee names like Chaz, Fife, Sutton, and Brory (the kind of names Liz Lemon would deem “hipster nonsense”) — came a-knockin’ to introduce themselves and tell the roommates they were hosting a get-together that might get “kind of wild.”

Jess and Schmidt mistook this warning for an invite and proceeded to crash the party. Lo and behold, Jess found a kinship with the little buggers — not least of which because they were so young that when Jess knocked over a bowl of popcorn and nasaled “Did I doooo thaaaat?” they didn’t realize the impression wasn’t a feat of meta-ironic genius (or whatever it is that hipsters get off on these days) but an outdated Urkel shout-out.

When Jess and Schmidt returned home the next morning, it turned out “those kids with the found furniture and no TV” (as Winston called them) had been smitten by another one of Jess’s patented catchphrase (“How ruuude!”) Unfortunately, they were not smitten with Schmidt (Schmidt-en?). A fact that was obvious to everyone but the douchebag himself, whose pendulum permanently swings between spoiling 26-year-old films (“Anthony Eds” dies in Top Gun, y’all) and being a corporate sell-out (God forgive him for giving in to the man by getting health insurance and paid vacation days!).

Winston was ready to jump in to defend Schmidt, though his eagerness was really just a clumsy segue to the ep’s other theme. Long story short, Winston thought he was the king of pranks, but Nick was really the Prank Sinatra of the group. If for no other reason than his sheer commitment. To wit, he had shaved 1/8th of an inch off one of the heels of every pair of shoes Schmidt owned. This was not only the pranking sweet spot, but also the old-fogey sweet spot, as it made Schmidt’s hip ache. While Winston struggled to find a prank that wasn’t too small (sprinkling shoe-shaving dust near Schmidt’s car) or too big (physical disfigurement), Nick filled a jug with pee to pour on Schmidt’s bed to make him think he was incontinent. Nick’s justification: “Sometimes, up close, art is ugly.”

NEXT: The pranks get more elaborate

As Jess and Schmidt headed to the hipsters’ place for another hang sesh (with all the essentials: artichokes, hula hoops, a sitar), Jess let it slip that the kids didn’t like Schmidt. He couldn’t believe it, but she told him to watch for a tell-tale sign: Every time he said anything (and I mean anything), they would change the subject. It was truly painful to watch as the ugly truth dawned on him — especially since Schmidt would never be such a jerk on purpose. He’s just fat kid with a dream, y’all — a dream of acceptance! So Schmidt took a fake call to let Jess chill with her new pals while he retired to the loft in Urkel-esque ultra-high-rise pants Nick had “picked up from the dry cleaners” for him.

Speaking of Nick’s pranks, here were the others: Nick switched Schmidt’s fiber pills out, making Schmidt “const-to-the-pizzle” = constipated; he sawed out a chair so Schmidt had trouble getting out of it; he claimed the TV was blaring when it was barely audible to make Schmidt think he was going deaf, and he structurally reconfigured a wall in the loft to make Schmidt think he was shrinking. Long story… well… still long, the combination of hipster rejection and Nick’s shenanigans began to gnaw at Schmidt’s very core, and he concluded that kids these days (a.k.a. “the future of humanity — pan-ethnic, pansexual hive mind” — not to mention polyamorous triad) wanted nothing to do with him.

In the throes of desperation, Schmidt asked Jess for a tutorial on being cool. Though we didn’t actually see or hear what she told him, it’s safe to say his decision to don cornflower skinny jeans, a summer scarf, and T-shirt reading “Registered Sex Defender” wasn’t part of the deal. (Jess, on the shirt: “That’s just a bad pun.”) Nor was Schmidt’s random display of athletic prowess (“Parkour!”), which resulted in him kicking a pyramid of beer cans onto Jess’s dress. When she said she could wash her own clothes, the millennials’ utter ignorance of self-sufficiency forced Jess into a cathartic corner — these kids were effing worthless. In order to nudge them in the right direction, she decided to fall on the sword and come clean that she didn’t coin the phrase “Did I do that?” via a YouTube clip of Urkel (see above).

Schmidt, simultaneously undermining my love for him and underlining his own former-fat-kid neediness, was irritated that Jess scuttled his chance to be accepted by the cool kids. (He was the Channing Tatum to her Jonah Hill in 21 Jump Street, if you will.) Their argument cut to a deeper divide between them: Schmidt’s career was established so he needed an outlet beyond his 9-5 life; Jess, having no 9-5 life to speak of, was searching for something more meaningful than a part-time gig at the “Asserole Shanty.” Schmidt suggested she might find other teaching gigs (my favorite? “a smiling class”). But Jess realized that, for all the steps back she took in the last several weeks, she had taken several steps forward: “At least I’m not 23. At least I own my own trash can. At least I can legally rent a car.”

Just as the hipsters returned to tell Jess they didn’t care if she stole her catchphrase from a “low-budget web series,” Nick emerged to pull the ultimate Old Person scare tactic — coughing all over them and spewing conspiracy theories. Jess was more than happy to play along, warning the kids Nick might “get his old” on them. For his part, Schmidt tried to distance himself from a legitimately old person. And that’s where he totally missed the point. One of the hipsters explained, “We don’t hate you for being old. We hate you because you’re a viciously unbearable asshead.” (Me: “But he’s our viciously unbearable asshead!”) Because this is Schmidt, he interpreted this insult as good news — at least he wasn’t old! Everybody wins? That said, I was still left with an insatiable urge to smack a hipster. If only Nick could focus his pranking energies (and $1,300 budget) on them!

Last and, in this case, least: Winston stormed into his bosses’ meeting, said a whole bunch of Miss Teen South Carolina-style nonsense, and somehow secured his very own AM sports talk show from 2:35-5:35 a.m. — “Boom! Prime time for truckers!”

NEXT: Quinoa coma

Notable dotables:

Schmidt [to Jess]: You used to inspire me — I mean, not specifically (I find teaching to be icky), but in a vague kind of “Look at that go-getter in a brightly colored sweater” kind of way.

Jess: Do you think that the neighbors will want, like, four individual casseroles or one, large, party-sized casserole?

Schmidt: Yes, Jess, that’s exactly what hip, trendy millennials want to eat — casserole. Come on, guys, just tighten up, all right? Think young. [pauses] What the hell is that smell?

Nick: It’s Old Spice.

Schmidt: I’m smelling Old Spice?

Nick: Yes, it has “Old” in the title, and yes, it’s all over my body.

Schmidt: Take it off!

Nick: I’m wearing the Spice, the Spice is cool.

Schmidt: It’s not even a real spice, man.

Nick: The Spice is coming back! Everybody knows it. The guy with the horse… [and it continued for several minutes]

Nick: If I had a dollar for everybody I couldn’t hang out with because they hated Schmidt, I’d be rich — like, fill-my-gas-tank-all-the-way-up rich.

Nick: And where have you been all night, young lady? Jumpin’ around to your hippity-hop, taking your drug pills and smoking your hash stick? [pause] I’m really asking. I’m not doing a thing right now.

Jess: Those guys are so much fun. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve been up for 48 hours, so I’m going to just sleep off an ass-ton of quinoa.

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