Two and a Half Men

Okay, it's your birthday,

and we're going to a ball game

and we've only got three tickets.

Cool.

It's not his birthday.

What else you get me?

It's not your birthday. Charlie, what's going on?

I've got a very delicate situation here,

and I need to appear as if I have plans today.

Does your delicate situation have a name?

I'm sure she does. Just follow my lead.

Dodgers or Angels?

Let's say Dodgers.

See, the kid knows how to do this.

I'll get my mitt.

Oh, boy, ball game.

Now that's commitment.

That's not commitment, that's lead paint in the nursery.

Hey, Steve, you down there?

Oh, yeah,

and my name's Steve.

Coming.

Charlie, Charlie, I am not going to lie

to some poor woman just so you can dump her.

I am not "dumping" her.

We've just... grown apart.

Since you picked her up at a bar last night?

People change.

Hello?

Oh, God.

In here, Mom.

So what are my boys up to today?

We're going to a Dodger game and we've only got three tickets.

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

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

So...

you're on your way to a ball game.

Yep. It's a little treat for Jake's birthday.

That was months ago.

We were waiting for bobble head day.

It's good for Jake to see other bobble heads.

Hey, Dad, I just checked online.

Dodgers are in San Francisco today.

Yes, well... we'd better get going, then.

It's quite a drive.

Must you continue with this pathetic little charade?

At this point, we're kind of committed.

All right, all right, we're not going to a ball game.

We're not?

Man, this is the worst birthday ever.

Why do you have to lie to me?

We don't have to. It's a choice we make.

Well, you both might find this all amusing,

but I do have feelings and I can be hurt.

Sorry, Mom.

It's just crushing to know

that my own sons think so little of me.

Really? After all this time?

Charlie.

We're both sorry.

Is there anything we can do to make it up to you?

Well, as a matter of fact, there is.

You just walked right into that.

Teddy is out of town and I need an escort

for the Civic Light Opera benefit this evening.

Why don't you try one of those escort services?

Charlie, if I were going to pay $200 an hour for a man,

I would not be taking him to the opera.

That's fair.

Well, I'd love to help you out, Mom,

but I have a date tonight.

Oh.

So now it's inflatable sex doll night at Dodger Stadium.

No. No, I really have a date.

And the doll was a gag gift from one of my patients.

Charlie, what about you?

I tried it once, but I prefer a real woman.

Do you have plans this evening?

Oh, I... well...

Hey, Steve. In here.

As a matter of fact, I do have plans.

I have a very special lady friend over for the weekend.

And here she is now.

Hey, baby. Hi.

Excuse me.

Isn't she something?

Okay, but get a town car, 'cause I ain't going sober.

Your town car's here.

Terrific.

Come on.

Now I have been to a lot of these things with Mom,

and I know you think it's going to be bad,

but believe me, it's going to be worse than you can even imagine.

You're really enjoying this, aren't you?

You just love seeing me unhappy.

Well... yeah.

I mean, did you feel sorry for me

when I had to wear that cowboy outfit

to her celebrity AIDS hoedown?

That was different.

How? It was you.

Yeah, well, now it's you.

Yippee-ky-yay, mother-accompanier.

Want a few tips?

Like what?

Well, let's see,

Mom likes to starve herself for a few days

before these events so she can fit into her gown.

That means she'll be knocking back vodka gimlets on a completely empty stomach.

Aw, geez.

She can be a cranky drunk.

Cranky?

I got bitch-slapped with my own ten-gallon hat.

So what's the tip? Don't wear a ten-gallon hat?

All you have to do is bring along a little baggie of crackers.

You know, saltines, goldfish,

anything you can stuff down her throat to soak up the booze.

How about a throw pillow?

Oh, and whatever you do, don't let her take off her shoes.

Why not?

Well, A) you'll be carrying them all night,

and B) you'll wind up giving her a foot massage in the lobby,

and that's not something anybody wants to see.

Oh, God.

Not to mention the fact that it puts you on bunion patrol.

Anyway, have fun.

I'm off to pick up a beautiful,

smart, funny, sexually available woman

who, best of all, is not my mother.

Give it time. You'll get her there.

In consideration of the evening you have ahead of you,

I'm gonna let you have that one.

Yeah, these are the good times.

Another gimlet please.

You sure you don't want a Wheat Thin?

Mmm, wheaty.

No. I need the liquor to dull the pain.

My shoes are killing me.

Yeah, but they look wonderful on your feet,

right where they are now.

Oh, look who's over there.

Who?

One of the most powerful union leaders in Hollywood.

What about him?

Really? The mob?

Yeah, they say he killed a writer once just to make a point.

What was the point?

"I can kill a writer."

And the silver-haired man he's talking to? Yeah?

That is the king of vaginal rejuvenation surgery,

but interestingly, he's never used one himself, rejuvenated or otherwise.

Wouldn't that make him the queen of vaginal surgery?

Good for you, Charlie.

I wish I'd thought of that, and from now on I did.

It's yours.

So, what other dirt you got?

Oh, darling, you know I don't like to speak ill of anyone.

All right.

Bankrupt, embezzler, tushie tuck,

bigamist, pill freak

and that one over there

underwent surgery to have a cell phone removed from his lower intestine.

Ouch.

How in the world did it get there?

One can speculate, but I have it on good authority

that it was set to vibrate.

How do you know all these things?

Oh, Charlie,

it's my business to know these things.

High end real estate is all about gathering information and forging relationships.

Hello, Beatrice darling.

Lovely to see you.

You two-dollar whore.

You know, Mom, it's great to watch you doing autopsies when I'm not the cadaver.

Half the fun is sharing with someone you love.

Oh, you see the statuesque woman over there

the one with the knockoff Prada handbag?

Don't tell me-- she's not a woman.

Oh, she's a woman.

She's an amazing woman.

She built a children's hospital in Guatemala.

Yeah, and...?

Once they're healthy enough to walk,

she flies them to Los Angeles

and leases them out to celebrities as household slaves.

Hello, dear.

I'm trying to sell her home.

It's hard to put a good spin on "media room slash dungeon."

I'm sorry, Alan, I can't do this.

Sure you can.

I mean, you are,

and if you'll allow me to say so,

you're pretty good at it.

It's not you, it's me.

Yeah, right.

What is that supposed to mean?

Sharon, I have been rejected by...

32 different women in my life.

And you know what, it's never been me.

Okay, it's you. Feel better?