Two and a Half Men

* Men.

LYNDSEY (moans): Oh, God.

That feels so good.

Where'd you learn to do that?

Chiropractic school?

Long before that.

When I was a kid, I had to do this for my mom.

Had to?

If I wanted dessert.

Oh, poor baby.

Tell you what, when you're done with my other foot,

I'll give you a little dessert.

Thank you, Mommy.

Hey.

Hey!

Oh, hey. How was the opera?

Magnificent.

Il Trovatore.

Walden cried.

Oh. Oh.

Come on, a guy in a leotard and a skirt

realizes he chopped his own brother's head off.

That's heartbreaking.

I keep trying to take Lyndsey to the opera, but she won't go.

I'm sorry,

I'm just not a fan of fat people singing in a foreign language

for two and a half hours.

Well, opera's not for everyone.

To appreciate it requires a refined taste

and a certain amount of education.

Whoa.

You did not just say that.

Say what?

I am plenty refined,

and I happen to have an Associate of Arts degree

from Santa Monica Community College.

I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to be pejorative.

What's that supposed to mean?

Uh, pejorative is having a derogatory...

I know what the word means!

Sorry, sorry.

What's community college?

Is that like a sort of trade school?

Let's leave it alone.

We've already seen one beheading tonight.

Where did you go to college?

: Oxford?

Only for two years.

Aw, did you flunk out?

No, I transferred to Harvard.

Harvard.

The Santa Monica Community College of the East.

What do you say we go get ready for bed?

Yeah, good idea.

* Mi chiamano Mimi

* Il perchè non so sola, mi fo. *

I also took a semester off to study opera in Florence.

That's in Italy.

Wow.

That is one talented lady.

And by "talented" I mean annoying,

and by "lady" I mean bitch.

* Men, men, men, men, manly men, men, men *

* Men, men, men, men, manly men, men, men * * Ooh

* Men, men, men, men, manly men * * Ooh * Ooh

* Ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh... *

* Men, men, men, men, manly men, men, men *

* Ooh * Men, men, men, men, manly men, men, men *

* Ah. * Men. * Men.

* Men.

"Fat people singing in a foreign language."

Can you believe her?

No. It's unbelievable.

Maybe she'd be more appreciative of

fat people singing in her native language.

No to Pavarotti, yes to Cee Lo Green.

Mm. Forget you?

Forget her.

And then she has the nerve to insult me simply 'cause I have

a modicum of sophistication and good taste.

Mm, you do taste good.

I know what she thinks.

She thinks I'm snobbish and condescending.

Mm, but you're not.

No, I'm not.

It's a shame, really.

So much I could teach the poor girl.

It's her loss.

God knows what Alan sees in her.

Yeah, he could totally do better.

No, he couldn't; he's a complete loser.

What are you talking about?

Um, you said...

Never mind.

"Refined taste."

I'd like to punch her refined face in.

And you could; you hit hard.

You know what her problem is?

She was born with all the advantages

and now she thinks she's better than everyone else.

Like her poop doesn't stink.

Your poop stinks, honey.

Thank you.

Especially after Indian food.

That is a real working-class stank right there.

Boy, I am so turned on right now.

What could Walden possibly see in that,

in that stuck-up English muffin?

Maybe it's her nooks and crannies.

What?

Uh, you know, English muffin.

Uh, nooks and crannies.

For the butter.

Or margarine, as the case may be.

Are you saying you like her body?

Oh, no, no.

No, it's your body that I love.

You've got the stinky poop.

Be honest with me.

Have I not been entirely civil and charming to her?

You have.

Then why does she give me that attitude?

Who know...? She's crazy.

Well, I wouldn't call her crazy; she's certainly unpleasant.

That's what I meant.

Unpleasant.

Are you humoring me just so I'll have sex with you?

No. I took you to the opera so you would have sex with me.

You're terrible.

I'm trying to be,

but there's a lot of damn bows here.

* Men.

Alan?

Yeah?

I'm sorry I ruined our night.

That's okay.

No, it's not.

Let me make it up to you.

Really?

I get dessert?

ZOEY (moaning): Oh, Walden!

Oh, my God!

Oh, my God! I don't believe it.

Do you know what she's doing?

Well, I think I have a general idea.

She wants me to hear that. Oh, my God!

She's rubbing my nose in it.

Sounds more like she's rubbing his nose in it. Oh, my God!

Two can play at that game.

Oh! Oh!

: Oh! Oh!

Oh, my God!

Oh!

Oh, my God! What are you doing?

Making love to you.

Oh, my God! Oh!

Oh! You want me to help?

No, I got this.

Oh! Oh!

Oh! Oh!

Oh! Oh!

Oh!

Oh!

Oh! Oh...!

Oh, my God! Oh, my God!

Oh, my God!

Oh, Alan!

Oh, Walden!

Oh!

Oh!

Oh!

(Zoey singing high-pitched opera note)

* Men.

Happy Valentine's Day, darling.

You, too, sweetheart.

Sounded like you and Zoey were getting an early start

on your celebrating last night.

Oh, yeah.

You and Lyndsey were making

quite a bit of a racket yourselves.

Oh, you heard that?

It was kind of hard not to.

Well, you know how it is.

Uh, you and I are like the mailmen.

Rain or shine, we got to deliver the old package.

Handle with care.

Express delivery.

No, wait, let me think of another one.

This side up.

Oh.

That's good, that's good.

Oh, who am I kidding?

Last night was a complete sham.

What do you mean?

Zoey was trying to prove

some kind of point to Lyndsey.

So, all that noise was, uh...?

I had nothing to do with it.

Sorry.

Well, since we're being honest, I should probably tell you...