The Millers

Ray, I got great news.

I could use some. I just got an e-mail saying

all my Groupons are set to expire this weekend.

Okay... forget all that.

I got two tickets to a charity dinner with the president.

Of the United States.

Of America. Why are you not reacting?

I'm sorry, man... you know,

I want to go, but me and the president, we got history.

History?!

Back when I worked in Chicago,

Barry and I played in a pickup game once.

Words were exchanged, elbows were flying,

punches were thrown.

Bottom line is I beat up a president.

Word must've got around because Iraq

put me on their $300 bill.

Great. Now I got to pick somebody from my family.

No matter who I choose,

the other three are gonna be mad at me.

You don't know that. Do some sniffing around first.

All right? One of 'em might hate politics.

I mean, maybe the other ones had plans.

I know I do.

I got 72 hours to squeeze in mountain bike riding,

skydiving, rock climbing and a bunch of other stuff

that guys like to do in erectile dysfunction commercials.

I hope you're right. If I can't eliminate some of these people,

it's gonna get ugly.

You know my family.

There's one piece of pizza left and we'd...

Get into a big fight and throw that piece of pizza

on the ground and stomp on it so nobody can have it.

Can't throw the president on the ground and stomp on him.

I did.

Oh, Mom, don't worry about it. We'll clean up.

Well, not Adam, his chronic fingertip pain is back.

Oh, please. Chronic fingertip pain?

It's okay, baby. We don't have to change people's minds.

So...

TGIF, huh?

I mean, not now. It's gonna be Friday in three days

but still, anybody got any fun unbreakable plans?

Nothing.

You know what, I was looking for something to do

on Friday. If you find anything, let me know.

Okay... Um...

Anybody else just bored, frustrated

and/or fed up with-with politics?

I mean, man, no, thank you.

I'm fed up with politics.

If I wanted to hear a bunch of rich old men yelling

at each other, I'd drive through another golf course.

Well, I got to say, it's kind of refreshing to hear

from somebody who doesn't want to waste their time

on all this politics nonsense.

Well, it is a waste of time.

It's not like an Average Joe like me

could change anything, unless you could somehow get

in the same room with the president.

Now, that would be cool.

Nathan, what is going on?

You are so nervous and distracted.

You're like one of those pill-popping teens

in the "Just Say No" commercials.

Nathan?

Did you say yes?

Okay, fine. My-my boss gave me...

Two tickets to this President Obama dinner on Friday night.

You're having dinner with Obama?

What's he making?

No, Dad, he's not making dinner, he's speaking.

And I... I got a plus one, so...

I got to pick one of you, but I know that...

Whoever I pick, the rest of you are gonna get mad at me.

Nathan, stop. That's ridiculous.

Nobody's gonna be upset about who you choose.

I mean, what kind of jerk

would fault a son for taking his mother?

Hold on a second.

What makes you so sure he's gonna pick you over me?

Okay, f-for the record,

I haven't picked anyone to go with me yet.

Oh, that's right.

Uh, he hasn't picked anyone.

Look, if it makes it

any easier, Adam and I are out because of the pact.

The pact?

Yeah... well, when we were dating,

we both made a vow that if one of us couldn't do something,

then the other wouldn't either.

No resentment.

That's why I've never been down the giant slide

at the water park. Adam's afraid of heights.

Well, first of all,

I am not afraid of heights. I have vertigo,

which is exacerbated by wind and water...

And, secondly, this is the president.

Are you breaking the pact?

I'm just saying that surely some pact that I made

while being airlifted off the top of a dumb water slide

could be reconsidered.

Okay, so there's no pact.

So every time we go to the water park,

I've been floating around a lazy river dodging empty juice boxes

and old Band-Aids for nothing?

Wait, I-I'm sorry Adam, why did you have to be airlifted?

Why didn't you just climb back down the stairs?

I have a rare condition

called panic paralysis.

When I get nervous, I can't move.

Let's just say I may have invented planking

when I lost my virginity.

Okay.

Go ahead. Break the pact.

But you just decided to go up against the girl

whose high school nickname was Debbie Don't Lose.

And you know why?

Because Debbie...

Don't...

Lose.

I'm in this game.

I need to speak to the president.

Our states are legalizing marijuana

and our schools are outlawing cursive.

Somebody needs to get a message to our young people:

More working, less twerking.

The president doesn't want to hear your whining.

I'd talk to him about normal stuff, like when he goes down

to the kitchen for a midnight snack,

does the Secret Service go with him?

And does he have to put pants on?

Dad, you're-you're not speaking...

I need the president's ear for one minute to talk

about a tax credit for vegans.

Nobody is speaking to the president!

It is a charity dinner, that's it!

We're all gonna get dressed up just to sit in our car

for two hours 'cause traffic's gonna be mayhem.

Then we're gonna have to just be in the back of a huge ballroom,

you know, in a seat that's not even facing the stage.

The best view we'll have of the president

is the reflection on our spoon.

We're gonna be

surrounded by a bunch of rich, snobby people

who are gonna be complaining that the wine stinks.

And it will because it's nothing but a glorified airplane meal.

I have half a mind just to rip this thing up myself.

Who even wants to go to one of these?

Here's the deal:

I've decided I don't want to be the bad guy

with this whole presidential dinner,

so I am leaving the decision entirely up to you.

Yeah. Power to the people.

The petty, backstabbing people.

- What if we have a big huge fight about it? - Not my problem.

- What if we can't choose someone? - Not my problem.

When do you need to have an answer?

That one is on me. Um, I'd say by tomorrow afternoon at the latest.

So, good luck hashing it out.

Call me if it gets physical.

I'd give anything to see somebody take a swing at Mom.

Well, you heard him.

We need to figure out a way to decide.

So I guess first person to touch the treadmill wins.

I touched it. I win.

Whoo! What should I wear?

Sorry, dear, but that is not how we're gonna decide this.

Whatever we do, it has to be completely fair.

I propose that we each make a case for why we should go

and then we'll vote and the person with the most votes wins.

Oh, that'd be a great idea

if this were the United Nerds of America.

Why don't we all just look between our legs

and whoever can say Nathan came from there wins.

I might have a shot in that competition.

Maybe I should just take you.

You're probably the only one who can be an adult about this.

Ooh, President Obama? No, thanks.

I'm a Republican.

We're drawing names.

Great. I don't need to know how you got there.

Just tell me when it's over. Same thing I say to my waxer.

Nathan, will you do the honors?

Come on. Just pick a piece of paper.

No, I don't want to be the target of your anger.

Have Mikayla do it.

No way! I've got a birthday coming up,

and my biggest donors are in that bowl.

You're just gonna have to find somebody

among yourselves who you trust.

Ray, I'm sorry

they pulled you out of that Groupon karate class.

I know you were looking forward to...

Catching a fly with chopsticks.

I actually misread the schedule.

It was tai chi. (exhales)

Which will come in handy if I'm ever attacked by a snail.

Okay, Ray, pick a name.

One last time, I'm begging you to reconsider.