Can someone pass the potatoes, please?
When you say potatoes, I pass potatos.
Is there any salad left?
Mi ensalada es su ensalada
Bread me.
Take me to Pound Town.
Explosion in Pound Town.
A little schmutz on your face, baby cake.
Reggie, stop. That's weird.
Aww, that's so sweet. He's taking care of you.
Wiping things from your face, keeping you clean.
I'm not in hospice, mom.
Besides, you try going on super-awkward dates
where your boyfriend just watches you eat.
Amber, you know Zabvronians don't eat food.
But I didn't realize our dates were weird or awkward.
You guys go on nice dates.
Look, this Sunday,
you're going bowling at 8:00, right?
That's nice.
Actually, we're not going plain bowling.
We're going rock and bowling,
and we moved the reservation to 7:30
because you know what they say.
It's hard to get a rock and bowl reservation at 8:00.
Pound town.
7:30, huh.
Ah. There it is.
You already sent the update to my calendar. Thank you, Reggie.
Also awkward, this bit where my dad
knows everything I do on dates with my boyfriend.
- That's got to stop. - Absolutely not.
My daughter is dating, and it's actually working for me.
I'm sleeping through the night.
I don't wake up strangling my pillow anymore.
Debbie, please tell them.
He's strangling his pillow less. It's true.
Weavers.
I have horrifying news. You may want to sit down.
Thank you.
The ball and chain is out managing her burrito joint,
earning some Benjamins Buttons to make it rain on my family.
I said that right, yes?
Killed it.
I was home alone,
and I finally got around to watching golf.
And to my abject horror,
I discover it is the single most tedious activity
on this or any other planet.
How have you never watched golf before?
Well, turns out I had watched it.
But what I thought were people walking somewhere to play golf
was actually people playing golf.
It's just walking around with a stick.
My family drive around in golf carts.
Look at my clothes.
My entire life
is defined by a sport I cannot stand.
I'm not gonna wear this golf shirt a second longer.
Damn this lycra.
Damn it.
sync and corrections by bellows www.addic7ed.com
♪ We came from outer space and settled in New Jersey ♪
♪ we took names like Larry Bird and Jackie Joyner-Kersee ♪
♪ then the humans moved next door ♪
♪ started testing all our limits ♪
♪ so sit right down, enjoy the show ♪
♪ we'll be done in 30 minutes
What you doing?
Just trying to get this fantasy trade to go through.
Rosenbaum is such a sucker.
If I can pull this off,
I'll be able to start three running backs this week,
and it would be huge.
Wow, three running backs. That would be...
Nope. I can't.
Marty, we need to talk about Reggie and Amber.
Uh-huh.
If Reggie keeps telling you everything,
you're gonna drive Amber away from him.
Suck it, rosen-clown!
You're not listening to a thing I'm saying, are you?
Just buy a new one, hon.
You have an extra wide receiver and your lineup's illegal.
No, it's not. I double-checked it twice.
Unbelievable.
Takes two parents, Marty... Two.
All right, hon. I'll just eat it cold.
Don't worry.
Oh, there's my brown sugarplum.
I have so much to tell you. I watched golf.
It was awful.
We're gonna have to change our sporting identity.
All these things happened today. It was crazy.
I've been dying to speak to you.
Well, I'm exhausted. Can we talk about this tomorrow?
Oh, but we've barely seen each other.
I thought we could snuggle and recap our days
while my hands hydrate.
Husband, I love you.
You light up my life.
But right now, all I really want to do
is sit alone on our comfy couch
and snuggle with Chelsea Handler.
Oh! She's so snarky.
And I love how she pretends that she's 38.
Such chutzpah. Can I watch with you?
Oh.
Well, I just really want to decompress, husband.
Maybe you can find something to occupy yourself with
that isn't me.
You understand, don't you?
Why do I keep you so silky when there's no one to hold?
Okay, three hours to first game kickoff, guys.
Max, talk to me.
War room is ready.
We're logged in to all three fantasy leagues,
and I have the streaming real-time injury updates
coming in live.
Abby, DVR status?
ESPN stays hot all day.
We're recording the pre-game show now.
There was a conflict between a pre-pre-game show
and one of mommy's recordings, but mommy ain't here, is she?
That's my girl.
♪ Olé, Olé, Olé, Olé ♪
Hi, Larry. What's with the Jersey?
Oh, uh, long expositional story. Do you have 30 seconds?
Mm. I was lying in bed last night covered in hand lotion.
I mean, I was just slathered in it.
20 seconds, Larry.
My wife told me to find something
to occupy myself with which isn't her.
So, I'm going to transition from golf fanatic
to football fanatic.
Please, will you teach me football?
What do you think?
New guy gets the crap seat.
Oh! Ohh.
Mm-hmm. You'll be stuck there for a while.
Anyone interested in brunch?
No? Oh, that's right. It's Sunday. I'm alone.
Frittata for one, I guess.
Hey, guys. What's up?
Short expositional story. Do you have 20 seconds?
- I do. - So, after a 20-hour shift, I passed out in front of the tv.
I wake up this morning facedown on the couch.
And the last thing I remember
is Chelsea Handler making fun of that hispanic dwarf,
in ways that sounded vicious...
But were actually quite charming.
Go on.
So, I wake up to find Reggie Jackson
in a nearly apoplectic state.
Reggie Jackson, explain.
I love Amber and want her to have a proper human date
where I don't make things awkward, but I don't know how.
Oh. Talk to me, Debbie Weaver.
Help me put some "love" in my "actually."
Oh, Reggie.
"Love actually" doesn't exist in this house
between September and super bowl Sunday.
There is no love. There is only Lovie Smith.
Lovie Smith was the head coach of the Chicago Bears,
and there's no surgery that can make me un-know this.
The only thing that I do know
is one day, you're a love-struck 16-year-old girl
who's boyfriend calls you every other night
at exactly 8:00 P.M.
The next thing you know, it's 20 years later,
and your marriage has taken a backseat
to all things New York Giants.
In the next three months,
he'll have less of a dialogue with you
than Adam Rosenbaum and the rest of the members
of the Tim-Teblows division
of greater New Jersey fantasy-football league.
I'm sorry. What was your question?
Reggie Jackson, please remind me and your father
to stop apologizing for long expositional stories.
Amen.
Oh, Reggie, you're a sweet kid,
but I can't help you get into my daughter's pants.
Why on earth would I want to wear her pants?
Well, that helps. Debbie, please.
I want to make Amber happy,
but I also crave Marty's approval.
You know what?
You don't have to tell Marty anything.
At least one of the Weaver women
can spend the day with her man.
I'm gonna help you romance the crap out of my daughter.
Why on earth would I want to...
It's just an expression, Reggie.
Okay, Reggie, let's do dinner at your house
so you and Amber can have some privacy.
Ooh, let's do a cheese course.
Oh, do we really need a nappetizer... a nap...
An appetizer?
What? Sleepy.
Listen, I have not shared a meal with my husband
on a football Sunday in a solid 15 years.
It happened to my mother before me.
It's the curse of the women in my family,
and you are gonna help me break that curse.
My daughter is gonna have Sunday dinner with her man.
Do you have one of these?
Yes. It's a hat.
It is not.
I have some Facebook photos I should probably delete.
Hmm. Hello, nerds.
Oh, hello. You must be my wife.
I'm sorry. I didn't know who you were for a minute.
I've been so wildly engaged in my new favorite sport...
Football.
Pass chips, Reggie.
Yeah! Ha!
I've never felt so human.
Mm! Nice hat.
No.
Second and 4 on the 41 and...
Why do I get the crap seat?
'Cause you joined last. That makes you a rookie, rookie.
Yeah! Sports!
- Yes! - Oh, field goal!
No, that's a first down, Larry.
I got this, dad. Pay attention, Birdman.
Those fat guys wrestle, wrestle, wrestle.
Then the handsome one
throws the ball as hard as he can.
And then one of the jumpy guys tries to catch it.
If you're lucky, someone pretty sings in the middle.
Is this sports or a Broadway musical?
Either way, yes, please.
Okay, let's start with the main course.
It needs to show effort.
Oh, here's a recipe for crêpes au saumon sauce mornay.
Every word of that
sounds like something Amber would hate.
Which reminds me,
doesn't Amber only eat fast food?
I know you think I'm overreacting, guys,
but you haven't been through football.
Marty answers everything I say with,
"buy a new one, babe."
Time is precious, Jackie, and we never get enough of it,
especially with the people we want to spend it with the most.
So, what do you say, pal, huh?
Will you let me teach you how to make
my dream Sunday dinner for my daughter?
Let's go.
Okay. Let me see you crack an egg, Reggie.
I am so sorry.
Oh, are you serious?
Come on. Put some muscle into it, babe.
Here we go. All right, two more.
Come on.
- Be a big boy. Come on. - I can't.
Come on. Score before the half! I need the points!
Win one for the tipper Gore.
Husband.
Mm-hmm? Yes, muffin? What?
Well, I just wanted to talk to you for a moment, I guess.
What, with me working so much
and you so interested in this football,
I-I don't know... I'm...suddenly feeling a little insecure,
and I needed to see my boo, you know?
Mm-hmm. Sounds great. Hmm.
Go ahead. Buy a new one.
So, to make cheese,
you steal the baby cow's milk then add bacteria.
Okay, don't ruin cheese for me, Reggie.
Debbie Weaver, you weren't overreacting.
You were under-reacting.
This isn't about football.
This is about reminding our husbands
of the shared experience of being on this planet together.
Mother, please.
There's more than enough cheese in this room already.
What?
Okay, that's halftime.
Now what?
Well, now, we won't see it,
but the coach gets to give a great speech
like Al Pacino in "Any given Sunday."
Pacin-who?
Ah. I'll show you.
Thing is...
Life is all about inches.
Football is, too.
I mean, man, in both games, the margin for error is tiny.
We cannot fail.
We cannot falter.
Because we are not just fighting for a dinner.
We are fighting for a way of life.
You jump too late or too early,
you're too slow or too fast, and you're out of luck.
This is a battle of the forces of good
against the forces of evil.
This is a battle for Sunday.
On this team, we fight for those inches.
Hell, yeah! Hoo-ah!
In this family, we fight for each other.
Whee!
I will not go quietly.
I will not lose Sundays with my family.
Because those inches all added together,
that's what makes us winners or losers!
Dude, you got almost all the words wrong.
That's football, guys.
That's all it is.
Then what happens?
Well, then there's a couple of commercials
and the game comes back on.
We did it, Jackie.
We created the Sunday dinner to end all Sunday dinners.
End them?
But I thought that we were trying to...
- No, it's an expression, Jackie. - Excuse me.
I don't want to complain, but it's starting to feel
like I'm not involved in my own date.
Stay out of this. Oh, mind your own business, Reggie.
It's perfect. Go invite her.
Don't text her an invitation. Do it like a man.
Siri, tell my woman
to bring her fine behind down here for dinner.
What is wrong with you?
There it is.
Marty, I am really enjoying this,
but I do have one question.
The ball is shaped like an egg
and they rarely touch it with their feet.
Why isn't the game called "handegg"?
Can someone get him out of here?
Oh, hey. Hey, hey.
You're a little dressed up for rock and bowling, no?
Change of plans. Not going rock and bowling.
Change of plans? Wait a minute.
No, no, no.
My calendar still says "rock and bowling."
Why wasn't my calendar updated?
What's going on?
Sounds like my son is trying to...
- Score! - Score!
Yeah! Touchdown!
Sports.
♪ hush, hush
♪ keep it down now
♪ voices carry
I search for the words.
Welcome to your not weird or awkward romantic date.
Mommies, will you be joining us?
Is someone playing "Voices carry" on the accordion?
Does he know any other songs?
Your mom said this was the most romantic song of all time.
Is it not?
Well, it's about 30 years old
and features a guy telling his girlfriend to shut up,
so, not really.
What's going on, Reggie? Why wasn't this on the calendar?
Um...
Because the calendar is stupid, Marty.
I was trying to tell you that,
but you weren't listening to me.
So... so, you went behind my back?
Everything happens behind your back this time of year.
Marty, what are you doing? The game's still on.
I tried to pause it, but Abby threatened to bite me.
Husband, are you here to join us for dinner?
Join you for dinner? Oh, no. I'm way too busy for that.
The only thing I want to join is Marty's fantasy league.
The good one... The one with the funny Jews.
I'm starting to get worried that this is getting awkward.
- Come with me, Romeo. - Okay.
Husband, stay for dinner.
I want to cuddle and connect emotionally with you.
Oh, now you do.
You didn't care about cuddling and emotional connection last night
when you left me for that vodka-soaked trollop.
I was exhausted from working all...
You know what? I give up.
You and football can have each other.
What's going on, babe?
I'm sick of football, Marty.
And I don't want to be the type of wife
that says this kind of thing,
but I'm sick of you disappearing every Sunday.
I am way more interesting than football, Marty.
Ask anyone.
Are you talking playoff football or regular season?
Larry, would you excuse us for a minute?
Uh, yes, I have, uh, some things to attend to.
Tom Brady and referees.
Sports.
I am so sorry that our not weird or awkward date
ended up being even more weird and awkward
than any of our other dates.
Are you kidding?
Reggie, as bat-poop crazy as tonight was,
look at where we are.
I mean, we snuck out,
I'm here with you and my favorite meal.
There are stars.
This is the most romantic date I've ever been on.
This is a good date?
Yes. It's a normal teenage date.
It's perfect.
♪ Don't leave me here alone
♪ don't tell me that we've grown ♪
♪ so out of love in just a little while ♪
There was one thing that I planned on my own
that our mothers didn't know about.
Okay.
I was gonna eat for the first time.
Not just because
you don't like me sitting there staring at you,
but because I thought it would bring us closer.
Reggie.
If you're gonna eat for the first time,
you might as well do it with the most delicious food on earth.
Chocolate milkshake.
♪ Oh-oh, oh, oh-oh, oh
Hmm.
♪ Oh-oh, oh, oh-oh, oh
Mm.
What was that?
Okay, we're just gonna...
It's okay.
I didn't, uh... I didn't realize
that me watching football bothered you so much.
I thought it was our schtick.
"He watches football too much, she goes to flea markets.
They hate each other's things," you know?
Yeah. No.
No?
Do you remember when we first started dating
in high school how I used to call you?
8:00 every other night. That's right.
Do you realize how hard it was for me
not to call you every night?
It drove me nuts.
Things have changed a lot since high school.
No, they haven't. No, not at all.
I'm... I'm sorry, Deb.
I guess after all these years, I still...
I find it hard to believe
that you would rather spend more time with me than less.
Oh, Marty.
The game's still on.
You can go watch the end if you want.
No. No.
The only tight end I want to watch is yours.
Will you dance with me?
Maestro.
What are you doing here?
Oh.
I dramatically stormed out of my own home
and then realized I had nowhere to go.
You really would rather watch football than be with me?
Yes.
No. I was putting on a bit of a show.
It's kind of a stupid game, to be honest.
And, um, I've done a brilliant job of hiding it,
but I don't think I understand it.
I don't like you...
working all the time, wife.
I don't like that the only way
that you can decompress is by doing it alone.
Oh, I shouldn't have said that.
This stupid game's
shown me the other side of things, and...
I didn't like it very much.
So, even if I am tired,
I'd much rather be tired with you.
You've always been my favorite form of decompression, L.B.
Good.
Well, spending time with you
has always been my favorite sport.
Now, settle down, husband.
There's no need for a cheese course.
I beg your pardon?
It's an inside joke... I think.
I don't know. I'm exhausted.
And it's been a long day full of monologues.
Hmm.
Oh! Good. Giants won. Marty will be so pleased.
♪ Ain't worth your time
♪ yes, I do believe
I think football's not such a bad game after all.
What a night, America. What a game.
♪ And tell me how to love you good ♪
On a beautiful fall night in New Jersey,
two opposing teams gave it all they had,
scratching and clawing for every yard.
There were twists and turns, ups and downs,
five lead changes, but in the end,
the close game ended the way close games usually end.
The home team came out on top.
♪ Yes, I do believe
♪ that if everything that we need is here ♪
♪ tell me how to love you good ♪
Okay, so golf is out, football is out.
I present horse racing. It's very silky.
Ahh. Comfy.
I can really move in this one.
This one makes me suspect
you three are just having a laugh at me.
That's it.
We're going back to golf.
Boring as hell, but at least we look amazing.
sync and corrections by bellows www.addic7ed.com