The next day, the ladies had to face each other Jess's court appearance and Jess became uncharacteristically snappish at Julia. Of course, this was only after Jess accidentally pled "Guilty" at her ticket hearing and roped herself into an $800 fine. I think we'd all be a little snappish at that point. Still, the explosion of "I am who I am, and what I am is adorkable!" reached Elmo-levels of awesomeness and was the first time we've seen Jess stand up for herself since Spencer. Express the Jess! Amid a torrent of declarations rivaling Schmidt's "Things I love about India" speech, Jess made it clear that she means Julia no ill will and is not trying to mess up their relationship. Julia arrived at the apartment to apologize, and they knitted it out, bitch. Nick arrived home (with a genuinely tiny hat waiting for him!), at which point the anti-labelers decided they did want a label for their relationship, and all was right with the world!
And, in case you were wondering what became of the drama of Schmidt's damp towel (I know you were really holding your breath), he had to forget his towel in his bedroom and accidentally expose himself to Jess and her girls before he realized that hiding his towel in his room was not going to work. At Jess's suggestion, the guys started hanging their towels on bars instead of hooks so they would dry faster. Except! Schmidt's towel was still mysteriously damp. "Mysteriously" for about five seconds before Nick told Schmidt that, in fact, Schmidt was using Nick's towel. So they've both been using it (for "drying [their] junk," Winston pointed out immediately) for who knows how long, and it has possibly never been washed. At least not by Nick. He announced with zero shame that washing a towel was idiocy because "the towel washes me!" He asked incredulously, "What am I going to do next? Wash the shower? Wash a bar of soap?" Schmidt: "I am furious right now." What's the step above furious? Plaid? Because that's what he is when Nick admits he sometimes wears Schmidt's underwear.
In C-plot, Winston had overcome his PLSD (Post-Latvian Stress Disorder) and was ready to scratch a certain itch. (If Schmidt had written that sentence, he would have ended it with "...a sex itch!") He contacted Shelby, an old booty call (Jordin Sparks doppelganger Kali Hawk), who was not impressed in the slightest by his come-on ("taking her for a drink" at the place she works and telling her about his many questionable Latvian endorsement deals -- the pronunciation of which resulted in spittle on her face).
As boys are wont to do, it took a girl blowing him off for Winston to realize he wanted her. He ignored Schmidt's advice to pretend to be in Cirque du Soleil and consulted Nick on how to impress girls when you're working with nothing special. Nick only took as half an insult, especially after his attempt to look like Tom Cruise in Cocktail was a literal bust. He stepped up his game, apologized for being a lout, and offered to take her on a real date. She agreed, then didn't hold it against Winston when he couldn't wait for her to get into her building before acting out a whining, seizure-like interpretive dance of excitement. Like Nick, our boy Winston may just have a girlfriend coming down the pipeline, only Shelby seemed a lot cooler than Julia at first blush.
NEXT: Body chut-i-ney and ribbon hats