Archer

What's wrong?

My-my-my-my--

Pam. Pam!

My-my-my-my-- sis-sis-sis-sis--

Hold this.

Ow! God dammit, dude.

Well, I'm sorry,

but I've got other shit to do today.

Now, what the hell is wrong with you?

My sister Edie is getting married

to Don Ekblad, Jr. of all people,

and she asked me to be a bridesmaid.

Um... I should be maid of honor, dicknuts,

but no, guess who she asks instead?

Uh... Midge Olerud!

No! Yes.

Midge "Hey Edie,

"let's me and you blow Pam's boyfriend Arn

behind the goddamn grain elevator" Olerud!

You had a boyfriend named Arn?

Well, he didn't know I liked him, but--

Midge and Edie did.

Pam!

Okay, Jesus.

Calm down, Ike Turner.

I don't want to show up with a black eye.

Not a real diverse crowd, huh?

Eye, idiot, eye.

Although, no.

Not a lot of black guys in rural Wisconsin.

And, I don't want to sound racist,

but-- Power through it.

A black guy would be better than no date,

which is what I'm taking now.

When is it? Saturday.

Day after tomorrow.

Screw it, I'll go.

Really? Really, really, really?

Yeah, why not?

Oh, man. Wait till they see--

Wait, that's how you ask a woman out? Yes.

Wait, no, I don't need a back-story.

Yes you do. Shut up. You're Gordon Shumway,

and you own a 500-acre dairy farm in upstate New York,

with 600 Holsteins and two Herringbone milking parlors.

Okay, A, that's Alf's name,

and two, what's more impressive,

a pathetic cheese farmer

or the world's greatest secret agent,

A.K.A., me, Sterling Archer. Oh, yeah.

Attention, now boarding flight 934,

to Green Bay, Wisconsin.

Come on, Archer, that's us.

Flight 934, to Greenbay, Wisconsin.

Yeah, you're booked through to New York.

Will you be needing anything else?

Huh?

Oh, is there a place that sells down jackets

and thermal underwear?

I'm, uh, what do you call it?

Coldblooded.

Archer? Archer? Archer?

Have you seen Archer?

Did you look in here?

I-- that is what I'm doing now.

Then, I guess go look everywhere else.

You know...

Starting with Dick-cheese, Wisconsin.

Excuse me?

Him and-- He and...

Whomever, and... Whoever, and...

If you wake this child, I will climb inside you

with my shoes on.

He and Pam are at her sister's wedding.

In Wisconsin?

Happy?

No, no, no, he's got her all weekend.

I'm going upstate for SERE school.

So take her with you.

To survival school?

Big whoop, hang her in a bear bag.

So... Mallory...

Nope. Ron and I are going

to our house in the Hamptons,

and, trust me, it would be no place for a baby.

You're back together? Like, for real?

And happier and stronger than ever.

Try not to burn the place down.

And you, my tweedy widdle--

What, are your boobs full of corn syrup?

Excuse me?

Feel that, she feels chubby.

She's a baby.

A fat widdle baby, yes you are, yes you are.

You're fat widdle baby.

Fast forward to me buying her liposuction

for graduation.

I hope you do burn this place down.

She said not to.

She said try not to.

You're kidding.

How either, in this universe,

or any of it's infinite parallels,

could I possibly embarrass you?

By dressing like a maitre D' on a dinner cruise

for gay Republicans? That's a thing?

I don't know, but you don't want

Edie dogging you out in front of the entire school.

The entire what?

Rehearsal dinner. Shut up.

Come on, what happened?

Did she dump pig's blood all over you at the prom?

No, not pig's blood.

Wait, what?

Hang on, did she really?

Oh my God, Pam...

You look amazing.

Really?

I mean, you know, relatively.

Shit-ass.

But you've got to pace me,

I'm sewn into this sumbitch.

So for every ounce that goes in,

an ounce gotta go out.

So, diuretics?

And watch this...

there's a sundae bar.

What could possibly go wrong?

Who the shit is that?

Is it Barry?

Does that mean Barry possibly, literally froze his nuts off

in the wheel-well of a 747

so he could murder the shit-eating Archer?

Yes it does, other Barry.

Oh, yes.

Okay. Jesus Christ.

Uh, wow.

You have got to be Edie.

Uh, I'm Archer, uh, Pam's boyfriend.

Bullshit, my asshole.

Pam, hon? Edie's here.

And you will be civil and polite.

And you will not let her push your--

Spamela! Get your fat ass out here.

Uh, she should be right out, she's--

Yikes.

Guess I should get in there and break that up.

Wait, wait, wait, wait!

Wait!

Yeah, come on. You coming?

No, but hey, I know it's late notice, and I really hate to ask,

but would you mind keeping A.J. for the--

What? I'm hitting door open.

You can't see it, but I really am.

Oh, my God, it's just like maximum overdrive.

Ray! Lana!

On Monday let's talk about

how scary this was for me.

God dammit! Let me go!

No, now just calm-- Let me go!

Shit, she's gonna--

Jesus Christ, woman!

Whoo!

God dammit!

Happy?

Less than I was, to be honest.

When? When you were chugging balls

behind whatever gay strip joint

she hired you at?

Whoa.

Told ya, it's that jacket.

First of all, Pam, shut up.

I'm not the one who chugs balls

behind buildings,

and even if I were,

they wouldn't belong to that dude Arn.

Oh God, you told him about Arn?

Arn didn't even know she was alive.

Okay, you know what?

Besides what Arn's balls taste like?

I-- Ah! I am out of here.

Pam, wait!

Wow, and here I thought

she was kidding about the pig's blood.

No...

It was-- it was calf's blood.

Stupid, frickin' Edie.

I'll show her what Arn's balls taste like.

Wait, what the?

Barry?

Hey...

You.

Hello?

Krieger?

You in here?

Hey, you!

What can I do you for?