Am I moving your stuff to my place all alone, or are you gonna help me?
I'm helping. I'm packing memories.
You know I actually five pounds lighter
than I was in high school?
Do you know that none of your glasses actually match?
I don't even know how a person does that.
Hey, same haircut, you ask?
Same barber, I say.
(Clears throat)
Well, I have plenty of glassware at my place,
so we'll just donate this stuff to Goodwill.
Whoa, hang on. You realize some of those are collectables.
Really? And which is the higher
ticket item... Bam-Bam or Mayor McCheese?
McCheese, of course.
I think that one's still good for one free refill.
All right, we'll keep this one and the Sammy Sosa travel mug.
And my cereal bowl.
Holds the perfect serving size.
Plus, you can wash a baby in it. Yeah.
Don't worry, I already packed your cereal bowl.
Now what are we gonna do with your tv?
Well, you don't have a tv in your bedroom.
Nah, I don't really like having a tv in the bedroom.
You know who says that?
People who have never had a tv in their bedroom.
Or people who like to read or talk.
Fine, but while you're reading or talking,
what am I supposed to do?
I don't know. Digging through your belly button seems
to take up a lot of your time.
So, the only place to watch tv will be downstairs in the lobby?
In my house, we call that the living room.
Yeah, but
your mom and your sister are down there,
so I'll have to put on pants.
If I'm gonna put on pants,
I might as well go to the movies.
Alright, you can put the tv in the bedroom.
Thanks.
But if I ever walk in wearing a sexy nightie,
and you give me one of these,
I'm snapping that finger off
and any other body part that looks like it.
That means I can screw up 11 times.
♪ For the first time in my life ♪
♪ I see love. ♪
Sync and corrections by GeirDM for www. addic7ed. com
So, Molly's belongings are precious gold,
but you got to hide your worthless crap in my garage?
I'm not hiding it.
I'm just waiting the time to get the map of her place.
Then I'll sneak it in one box at a time.
Wonderful.
Lies and deception.
The mortar that holds the bricks of love together.
It worked for you and dad.
Those were simpler times.
What happened to my air hockey game?
You know, Mikey,
I'm not one to cast judgment
on how other people choose to live their lives...
Here we go.
But rushing to move in with this woman
is a horrible mistake
that you'll regret the rest of your life.
Well, don't sugarcoat it, mom. How do you really feel?
Hey, what happened to all my G.I. Joe stuff?
In my day, we didn't shack up with somebody
until we had rings on our fingers and rice in our hair.
Listen, Molly and I love each other,
and getting rid of my apartment
is a good way for us to save money.
Well, if you really wanted to save money,
you never should have moved out of this house.
Yes, but that would have ended in a murder-suicide.
Fine.
But when she gets tired
of peeling your dirty drawers off the floor,
you always got three hots and a cot here with me and Jim.
And it's all the incentive I need to make it work.
Seriously, I can't find my stretch armstrong,
my baseball cards, nothing.
Hey, I had a garage sale, okay?
And you sold my stuff?
Well, if you don't sprinkle in a few toys,
it just looks like a sad, old shut-in
having a pre-death estate sale.
Oh, man.
And if the guy across the street ever asks,
you never wore that orange swimsuit.
I promised him, no plums in the basket.
Molly: Okay.
I made room for some of Mike's stuff in the hall closet.
I'm gonna take these things over to Goodwill.
Don't you dare.
Those are your dad's clothes.
You can't give those away.
Mom, he died 25 years ago,
and this leisure suit passed away ten years before that.
I don't care. You're not giving them away.
Oh, it still smells like daddy.
Hai karate and hot sauce.
It's gonna be so weird having another man living here.
By the way, I was wondering if you guys could clear
a little space for him in the bathroom.
Ooh, that big man in our little bathroom?
Yipes.
Don't worry. All he's got is a razor and a toothbrush,
and for some mysterious reason, a shower cap.
It's not about counter space.
We're worried about the beating that toilet's gonna take.
Mom.
Why don't we make him use the downstairs bathroom
like we did with dad?
There you go.
Just throw in a good, industrial-strength plunger
and a big scented candle.
Citronella, like they use at campsites.
Or we could just rent one of those porta potties
and put it in the backyard.
Good idea.
Then it becomes the neighbor's problem.
All right, this is the last of it.
We got a dreamsicle
and what is either a frozen tamale
or a pair of yellow dress socks.
I will have the dreamsicle.
I'll spin the wheel on that tamale.
Good luck, 'cause it was here when I moved in.
So, what are you doing with this sofa?
I tried to give it to Goodwill, but apparently,
they have a too many stains policy.
I'm surprised they took your shirts.
Samuel, it's yours if you want it.
Uh, thank you, but my roommates and I have more
of a southwestern motif.
You know,
now that you're moving in with Molly,
we won't be able to hang out like this anymore.
What are you talking about?
You guys can come over there.
It's gonna be my place as much as it is hers.
Hmm. Yeah, that's what those Indians thought
when they waved at that first boatload of pilgrims.
Exactly.
No more spearing fish and peeing in the woods.
It's tea cakes and Bible lessons for you.
What the hell are you talking about?
Those women are gonna civilize you.
No more fingers up your nose, no hands down your pants,
and forget about sitting on the couch,
drinking from a can of pork and beans.
Please, Carl, I'm not an animal.
I've lived indoors before.
Carl: Really?
You want to lift these couch cushions
and play food, filth or fungi?
(Microwave bell dings)
Carl: Tamale?
Frozen plantain.
I'll eat that.
See? Doesn't take up a lot of space,
and it fits in with all your Asian decor.
Samsung.
Hilarious.
What are we gonna do with this?
Good question.
Where do you keep your bobbleheads?
Well, I only have the one,
and right now, he's putting a tv in my bedroom.
It's cute.
At my place, he sat next to my computer.
Oh, well, here he'll live in the garage.
Do you like that?
He does like that.
The garage? This guy is a hall of famer
and won 20 games six years in a row.
This is not the actual guy.
Fine. Sure seems like
a lot of my stuff's being relegated to the garage.
All right, I'll find a place for this little fella.
Great, and since you're loosening the reins
on the sports memorabilia,
let's find a spot for this ebay treasure.
Gosh, we're running tight on wall space.
Uh, what about downstairs bathroom?
Fergie Jenkins in the garage?
Gale Sayers in the crapper?
I don't think you're really from Chicago, lady.
Well, I know that this is tough, but come here.
But it's just temporary.
Soon we'll have our own place
that's not mine, not yours, but ours.
I guess.
And we'll have so much room,
you'll be able to have your own den.
Really? Oh, yeah.
You can put all your stuff in there.
That'll be cool, right?
Like a man cave.
Exactly.
Can I smoke cigars in my man cave?
I don't really see it having a window.
Wait, it's not gonna be an actual cave, is it?
(Birds singing)
(Whispers): Molly?
Molly, I'm hungry.
Well, go downstairs and fill up your big cereal bowl.
By myself?
Take your bobblehead.
Mike, come on.
Sunday's my only day to sleep in.
What if your mom and sister are down there?
You've eaten meals with my family before.
Yeah, but you're always there with me.
Sweetheart, this is your house now.
You can go do whatever you want.
Well, what I want is for you
to come downstairs with me and have breakfast.
(yelling) Go!
Fine.
You know, you're meaner now that we live together.
Whoa, there he is.
Morning, Victoria.
You just getting home?
Yeah, I had a little car trouble.
Maybe I can help.
I'm not a mechanic, but I know what's what under the hood.
This is actually more
of a "too stoned to remember where I parked" problem.
Well, as a sworn police officer,
I cannot comment, but I commend you
for not driving a motor vehicle
while under the influence.
Wasn't really my choice.
But thank you for not harshing my mellow.
No problem.
And for the record,
Johnny law...
Pow, pow, pow, pow, pow.
And I'm walking the line.
Molly, you up yet?
Aw! Out!
Oh, look who's coming to the kitchen in his jammie pants.
Morning.
Cop a squat, I'll get you a cup of coffee.
Thank you.
Listen, uh, Mrs. Flynn,
I really appreciate you letting me move in here.
Oh, please, call me Joyce, and it really wasn't my decision.
Cream and sugar? Black, please.
You'll love it with cream and sugar.
That's the way Molly's dad drank it.
I don't really process dairy well, but okay.
And listen, if there's anything you ever need done,
just let me know.
I want to earn my keep.
We're talking chores, right,
not some sort of plus- sized gigolo action?
No.
I'm pulling your leg, hoss.
Oh.
If you're serious about helping out,
a couple of those kitchen cabinets could use new hinges.
I'll take care of that today.
We could also use a new screen for the back door.
Victoria walks through at least one a year.
Consider it done.
And a new exhaust hose for the dryer.
Easy to do.
Oh, and the pulsating shower wand upstairs
has seen better days.
Three women in the house... don't ask.
Wasn't planning on it.
(Pounding loudly)
What's that pounding?
Your boyfriend is up on the roof
replacing the loose shingles.
Okay, so it wasn't Santa Claus.
But you can understand what got me there, right?
The poor guy's only been here one night
and you're putting him to work?
He volunteered.
Mike Biggs volunteered to climb up on the roof
and start relaying shingles?
He was reluctant at first, but I promised him a pan of brownies
and he shimmied up that ladder like his ass was on fire.
Mom, we shouldn't take advantage
of Mike's good nature.
Some might say his jolly nature.
You know, he's been working hard.
We should make him a nice dinner tonight.
That's a great idea.
Remember our Sunday night dinners with daddy?
We'll make pot roast,
mashed potatoes, and banana cream pie.
Daddy's favorite.
Oh, it's not Mike's favorite.
Who the hell's talking about Mike?
I'm telling you, Carl, all I did was put
a couple screws in a cabinet door
and her mom made me French toast.
I know, I feel like king midas.
Not the muffler guy.
You got to get a library card.
Hang on, I got to earn myself some brownies.
Joyce: Hey, how you doing up there?
You working hard?
Oh, yeah.
Seeing you up there blocking the sun
reminds me of when my husband was alive.
He was always working on the roof.
Well, Chicago winters... lots of wear and tear.
I may be up here for a while.
You hungry?
You want a sandwich?
Oh, I'd love a salami and cheese.
Too bad, he loved peppers and meatballs.
Incoming!
That'll work!
Can't talk now, Carl, this is a two-hand job.
Anything look familiar?
The stop signs do,
but I think they use the same ones all over town.
All right, where is the last place you remember parking it?
I had a dentist appointment on Wednesday.
I've driven it since then,
but that's the last place I remember parking it.
Okay, any idea what clubs you went to last night...
goth, gay?
Elks?
There's a couple of stamps on my hand.
You don't have a black light, do you?
No, I don't.
For crying out loud, Victoria, think.
Hey, if you're going to bark at me,
you can take me home
and I will get Mike to help me look.
My fiance is not your personal lo jack.
Besides, mom probably has him planting corn by now.
All I know is, he's a lot more patient
and understanding than you.
That's because he hasn't played car-and-seek
every Sunday since you got your learner's permit.
Can we at least assume it's still in Illinois?
You know, when I told Mike about misplacing my car,
he was not mean or judgmental.
Mm-mm, no, he was firm but fair, just like daddy.
Victoria, focus.
Anything around here ring a bell...
bars, restaurants,
maybe one of your shoes laying in the road?
Both shoes are accounted for,
but keep your eyes peeled for a hair scrunchie
and a black laced bra.
All right, I'm done.
Okay, we'll just wait for your car
to get booted and towed like last time.
No, last time we drove around,
I eventually remembered I parked it in the garage.
Oh, wait.
No.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry! No!
You have got yourself a real prize there, young lady.
I know, mom, he's a great guy.
He's more than a great guy.
He does whatever I ask him to do
and eats whatever I toss up on the roof.
It's like having a big pet raccoon that can fix stuff.
Oh.
There's my
hard-working man.
Nice fit, huh? Two more pockets and I'm a pool table.
Mike, why, why are you wearing my dad's clothes?
Oh, I gave him a bunch of daddy's stuff.
You know, the last time he wore this suit,
we were sharing a "j" at a Doobie brothers concert
or sharing a doobie at an O'jays concert... I forget.
It was the Doobie brothers.
I found the ticket stubs and an ancient tootsie roll.
Oh, daddy loved his tootsie rolls.
Can I see it?
Well, the real memory is the ticket stubs, right?
I'm kind of freaking out here.
Mike, you don't have to wear that.
Why? I think I look pretty good in it.
You look like you should be standing in a field,
selling green beans.
Never mind her, you look great.
Now, why don't you sit right down here
at the head of the table?
We're having pot roast, mashed potatoes,
and your favorite dessert... banana cream pie.
That's not his favorite.
Mike, tell 'em, German chocolate.
That's cake, we're talking pie now.
Isn't he adorable?
Mike, before we go to bed, will you read me a story?
Oh, come on,
this has gone from weird to creepy.
Victoria, he is not your father.
Mom, he is not your husband.
Hang on, Moll, they're just trying to make me feel welcome.
Which is more than you're doing.
You won't even let the poor bastard hang up a picture.
I didn't say anything.
Plus, you're the one who told us to make him feel at home.
I meant be friendly, make small talk,
not dress him up like my dead father.
Hey, it fits him.
There's three guys in Chicago that can wear that suit.
Then get one of the other guys 'cause this one's mine.
You're so selfish, Molly, you never share anything.
Remember how she never let me ride her bike?
Molly: Oh, hey, if I had lent you the ten-speed,
we'd still be driving around right now looking for it!
Joyce: The two of you are giving me a headache.
Victoria: She started it.
Joyce: So how come you get to dress him up, but I can't?
Molly: Because I'm the one that's marrying him.
Victoria: Is that a shot at me because I haven't found a man yet?
Molly: Have you looked in the garage?
I'm telling you, Carl, it's like paradise.
Guess what I'm doing right now.
How'd you know?
No, I mean, how'd you know it was pie?
You cannot hear it in my voice.
Fine, if you're so smart, what am I wearing?
Wrong... green leisure suit.
Yeah, Molly's mom gave it to me.
I know, it's a sweet deal.
Sure, come on over.
Ladder's around back, and I'll try and save you some pie.
Joyce: Would you girls knock it off?
It's your squabbling that kept me a single mother
all those years.
Molly: Oh, don't play that card.
You've had more boyfriends than she's had.
Victoria: Are you calling me a slut?
Joyce: Are you calling me a slut?
Molly: Just stay away from my fiancé, and yes, I am!
Sync and corrections by GeirDM for www. addic7ed. com