George Michael: I actually might even just skip that.
Michael: What are you talking about? This party is essential for the stockholders to see. I mean, we got to show them how close this family really is.
Narrator: And this was as good an opening as George Michael was going to get.
George Michael: Maeby and I made out.
Michael: I’m sorry?
George Michael: Me, too.
Michael: What-what do you mean, son? You kissed?
George Michael: Even a little more than that. I thought she wasn’t my real cousin, but then Uncle Tobias showed us these really rough pictures that proved that she was really Aunt Lindsay’s daughter. I just feel like I can’t be around her or Aunt Lindsay. They were really rough... pictures.
Michael: No, I remember their birth announcement like it was yesterday.
George Michael: I mean, I know it’s wrong, you know, but, uh, my feelings are real even... even if it was a mistake.
Michael: Well, obviously, acting on those feelings is not an option. She’s a blood relative.
George Michael: I know. I’ve seen the blood.
Michael: Now, how long has this been going on?
George Michael: I don’t know. 53 weeks? I can’t be around her with these feelings anymore, and that’s why I’m-I’m not going to this party.
Narrator: And so Michael made another compromise of his values for the sake of the business.
Michael: Whatever happened to that Ann we were both so crazy about? You know, maybe you can bring her to the party. Yeah... Ann is the girl for us.
Narrator: Michael’s sister, meanwhile, was doing some selling out of her own.
Lindsay: ... that I’m not going to sell my five percent, even though you haven’t made an offer... which would be how much, by the way?
Stan Sitwell: Five percent? Lucille actually gave you less than her natural children?
Lindsay: I hope that’s not a crack about my hair color, lips, forehead, nose and teeth. Because at least I’m not wearing a rayon sweater set on my face.
Stan Sitwell: It’s alpaca, actually. Cruelty-free really narrows your choices.
Stan Sitwell: But that’s not what I meant when I said “natural child.”
Lindsay: Wait a minute, you’re saying... I’m adopted?
Stan Sitwell: I’m sorry. I thought you knew. Have I upset you?
Lindsay: Are you kidding me? This is the happiest I’ve been since the day I got my new nose! I’m not a Bluth!
Stan Sitwell: You were almost a Sitwell, but 37 years ago, the Bluths adopted you out from under us. So we said good-bye to you—our darling little three-year-old...
Lindsay: Uh, wait, “three-year-old”? Uh, you said it was 37 years ago.
Stan Sitwell: Oh, yeah, right. Hey, we should do something for your 40th next week.
Narrator: This part of the news Lindsay didn’t take that well.
Lindsay: Let me bleep. Get your bleep hands...
Stan Sitwell: Be gentle! She’s almost 40!
Narrator: Maeby, meanwhile, returned to Tantamount Studios, where word was, she was to be replaced when it was discovered she wasn’t the age she claimed to be.
Maeby: Please don’t fire me.
Mort Meyers: Fire you? Are you kidding? I’ve already gotten ten requests for the TV rights to your story. You got to get your family to sign the release papers. This is the biggest thing to happen since Uniprod hired that wee-brain to run Drama Development.
Narrator: Michael had compromised his morals, and was having trouble sleeping. Of course, some of that was Lindsay.
Michael: Are you drunk?
Lindsay: A little. We need to talk.
Michael: Yeah, I’ll say. Are you aware that your daughter and my son have been getting physical? I mean, can you imagine anything that inappropriate?
Lindsay: (Climbs on top of Michael.)
Michael: Whoa. I guess you can. What’re you doing?
Lindsay: I’m not your sister.
Lindsay: I’m adopted.
Michael: Wait, Lindsay...
Lindsay: And I’m three years older.