Weeds

So, I think it's really important

that we remember that this isn't about safety.

It's about fear.

Our children do not need to wear helmets to play soccer.

They're not helmets. They're headgear.

And do you know how many children

suffered concussions this year?

I believe it was one.

Your child.

And I'm really sorry,

but it wasn't even when he was heading the ball.

It was when he ran into the goalpost, so...

Dude.

That's not true.

- Is that the widow? - Yep.

She was married to that rabbi

who went over the cliff on Avernous Road.

Oh.

Swerved to avoid a bear.

I heard about that.

...protects against concussions.

She's the one who owns all those stores.

They're hot and sweaty and expensive,

and you can't properly head in them.

She's rich and thin.

Your wife's rich.

My wife's a potato.

A smoothie maker.

Look, we're all here every day giving our time to the school.

- Who's her kid? - Steve Bloom.

Now suddenly there's an issue that affects your kid, and you show up?

Yes.

I'm here to argue for the interests of my child.

I think the rabbi adopted him.

Our children are in middle school.

They don't need us here every single day.

Okay, well, I'd like to put it to a vote.

I wonder if she's lonely.

All those in favor of protective headgear for the soccer team,

please say "aye."

- Aye. - Aye. - Aye. - Aye.

You wonder away there, buddy.

Well...

You still can't force them to wear it.

Okay. We'll see.

- So how'd it go? - The team is getting helmets,

but that doesn't mean you have to wear one.

That is total bullshit.

I want to go to Minnesota.

Stevie, it's been a really, really hard year for both of us,

but I'm not sending you to boarding school.

I can't play spring soccer looking like a retard.

Did-- did you tell them you can't head in those things?

I did. I did. But it's not over yet, okay?

Of course it is.

They're gonna make us wear them, and my game is gonna suck,

and I'll start hating soccer, so I'll quit,

and then I'll just end up working in one of your stores

like those zombies who worship Uncle Doug.

Sounds like a plan.

Mom.

I'm-- I'm serious.

I sent in the application.

Stevie, can we not do this now, please?

The academics are really good, too.

Stevie!

After tomorrow, I'm a man.

How about we get through your Bar Mitzvah

and then we discuss the rights and privileges

of your new adult status?

Think about it.

We can skip the teen-angsty time

where I eventually start to hate you,

and we could just have happy holidays.

It's so much healthier.

We spend way too much time together.

You're gonna make me gay.

Go back to class, all right?

I'll pick you up at 3:00.

_

I'm sure that there's goat's milk at my mom's house.

_

Hey. Hey.

I'm not angry at her.

Why should you be?

_

If you love me, you'll try to get along.

Please.

_

We're here for Stevie's Bar Mitzvah.

Not business.

- Next, please. - Pbht.

_

Speaking of which, uh, pack of puff dragons, please.

You hear that, Flora?

It's time for you to give me back mama's boobies.

Don't tell her that.

Timmy, what don't you want to tell me?

You have to pick up the cake yourself tomorrow.

There's time between the service and the party.

What the F? Can't you get it for me?

No. You know I can't.

I have to maintain my boundaries.

Saturdays and Sundays off.

What else?

Do you know what time Andy's flight gets in?

Uh, Silas handled all the correspondence with him.

All I know is that he RSVP'd yes.

Anyhoo, the caterer is on her way.

You have meetings with two new cup distributors on Monday,

and here is a stack of stuff to sign.

Legal wants to talk to you about allegations

of serving minors in stores 14 and 43,

and the deejay got your playlist,

but he said that he won't play the Hava Nagila.

He says that it's a cliché.

It's tradition. Make him play it.

Fine.

What else?

After this meeting, you're all clear.

But you do have a date on Tuesday

with a game theory strategist named Norman Hass.

He's 60, divorced, two grown kids,

runs half-marathons, likes to cook.

Oh, God.

But, I can always cancel.

No.

All right, then, we'll talk Monday.

You have a great weekend, Nancy.

Don't forget dry cleaner on your way home.

Thank you, Tim.

Taste-testing the product?

Virgin.

Got to keep my wits about me.

Not me.

I'm higher than a Georgia pine 24/7.

Perfect.

How's life in Dixie?

Oh.

It's the fucking third world.

I fear for my people, Nance.

Rest of the country has healthcare,

has marijuana, and tax revenue from marijuana.

My dumbass, sore-loser region invoked states' rights

and keeps its folks sick and angry.

I bought a townhouse in Chelsea.

My kid is being Bar Mitzvahed tomorrow.

I have things to do.

Guess my invite got lost.

I don't really like you, Crick.

I don't think you should have anything to do with my business.

Not how I see it.

You took my money to start it, and I took fair compensation.

Fair? No, I don't think I would say that.

Can we please skip this?

I come bearing good news.

Starbucks wants to buy us.

What?

All 50 stores. All-in.

How much?

Why didn't they come to me? 'Cause I went to them.

- It's my business. - Silas is on board. So is Doug.

So is Conrad. So is Mr. Garcia-Gomez.

Well, bully for you boys. I own 51%.

That's why I'm here.

We want to sell.

Well, we must be doing something very right

if Starbucks wants to buy us.

- Oh, horse shit. - Excuse me?

We can all be set for life,

but you want to hold on to your corporate job so bad?

It's my corporation.

Come on!

Why buy the cow when you can have a bird in your hand?

Go have an adventure.

I had my adventures.

Now I date men named Norman.

Jesus!

What happened to you?

You used to be such a spark plug.

Time and loss have, uh, mellowed me.

Well, you ain't dead yet, and this is a win, not a loss.

Listen to me, Nancy.

This is an amazing offer. Take it.

I know it's the right thing.

Go fuck yourself.

You have a great Bar Mitzvah, Mrs. Bloom.

Here it is. Camelot.

Botwinlot. Fuckingham Palace.

I would have sucked your dick weeks ago

if I had seen this place.

All right. Let's go.

Hello? Mom?

Hi, Megan.

Oh, shit. She really is deaf.

You weren't kidding, huh?

Hello.

I am Beatrice, Mitch's girlfriend.