Morning.
- Morning. - Good morning.
It is a great morning, isn't it?
Any reason why you're pouring rum on your pancakes?
Any reason why your breath smells like
a graveyard port-o-potty?
- Oh. - Oh.
It's the morning, Margaret.
Yeah, he's a post-breakfast brusher.
Oh, why does his breath smell like that at dinner, too?
- Whoa. - Whoa.
Margaret, you're pouring rum on your pancakes.
You're lashing out at Hank,
for what is admittedly a problem.
What's going on with you?
Nothing. I'm great.
Oh, well, that's really a relief to hear. Good for you.
You weren't very good as a parent, were you, Charlie?
I think I was; I mean,
they all sued me, but none of them won.
No, seriously, Margaret, what is going on with you?
There's the birthday girl.
Happy 65th.
- Oh. - Oh.
Okay, let's just don't make a big deal of this.
Of course not.
We got a dusty crusty right here!
All right, gang. We're gonna sing
my favorite song ever written. "Happy Birthday."
? Happy... ?
You really need to go.
Okay, please, just nobody say another word about my birthday.
? 65! 65! ?
? Our favorite girl is still alive. ?
Bad time?
- Synced & corrected by MementMori - -- www.addic7ed.com --
Ma'am, you are being unreasonable.
No, you're being unreasonable, ma'am. Ma'am?
Get this, they won't take the cake back
once you've been inside of it.
So I guess I'm out $400
because somebody doesn't like birthdays.
Well, I'm sorry. I'm just not excited about being a senior.
There's something about that word.
For the first time in my life, I feel... old.
Well, too bad there isn't something
to make you feel childlike and young like,
oh, I don't know, a cake!
Who says being a senior means you're old? We're seniors.
And we're in the primes of our lives.
And I tell you som...
I happen to like being a senior.
Nobody liked this sweater when I was a teenager.
I don't consider myself a senior at all.
I count my age from when I came out to my wife
and my new life began.
New Year's Eve 1999.
I was so scared about that Y2K,
I just... blurted it out.
Far as I'm concerned, I'm 18.
Barely legal.
Is that when you started dressing like
an ice cream cone with extra sprinkles?
Ooh.
Ooh-ooh. I know what this is about.
Hank, it's 'cause she's a woman.
Excuse me?
Shh. Margaret, I'm talking to Hank.
You see, men age gracefully.
As we get older we become either
distinguished fancy men
or grizzled cowboys.
Or in my case, a grizzled fancy man.
Whereas with women, it's either invisible
or scary forest witch.
Oh, screw you.
What? I didn't say it.
I'm just repeating what society told me, Margaret.
My boy is right. You're not old.
You're just upset because society
has tricked you into thinking you're old.
Did you just mansplain gender politics to me?
Baby. Baby, baby, listen.
I don't think you're using the term, "mansplaining" properly.
Are you mansplaining "mansplaining" to me?
Don't answer. It's a trick.
Well, I am certainly excited to become a scary forest witch.
I'm just sorry you guys won't be around to see it
with your short little male life spans.
But here's a preview for you.
You're old, Hank!
You're all old!
And now, if you'll excuse me,
I'm gonna go whip up some Long Island Iced Teas
in my cauldron!
You know what we need to do?
Yep, grab a couple flasks and go hit that cauldron.
We need to take her out for a night on the town
and convince her that she is wrong,
that we are not old and that my breath smells good.
I'm in.
I mean, you would think that a $400 cake
would have cheered her up, but I'm over it.
I am over it.
You know, it's about respect.
It's just...
? Her name is Margaret ?
? She's 65 ?
? She likes to party ?
? She don't take no jive ?
? Go, Margaret ?
? Go, Margaret, go, Margaret ?
? Go, Margaret, go, Margaret, go, Margaret ?
? Go, Margaret, go, Margaret. ?
Are you all right?
What the hell is this?
Margaret, put the liquor down.
We're taking you out to get drunk.
No, you guys, I am fine with my P-booze-and-J.
And what the hell are you guys wearing?
You look like extras in the "Beat It" video.
This is Ver-sace.
You mean Versace?
No, I mean Ver-sace, I couldn't afford the "ace."
We're taking you out for a good old-fashioned
young person's night.
I don't think young people call it "young person's night."
And I know they don't wear fanny packs.
Well, they should, 'cause there's everything in here
a young person could want.
There's reading glasses, comfort insoles,
rolling papers,
calcium toffee chews for strong bones.
You got my breath mints, right?
Ooh, I hope so.
Guys, let me hide from my birthday
the way I want to, okay?
I'm gonna finish my little P-booze-and-J.
I'm gonna make a little beer-rito for dinner.
I'm gonna pound five or six cocktails for dessert.
Make a little nightcap and I'm off to bed.
You can eat all that crap tomorrow.
Hell, we'll even eat it with you.
But tonight, you're gonna have the best birthday of your life.
Put. This. On.
Welcome to the coolest jazz club in all of suburban Tucson:
Ronnie's Swing Time Cafe.
I'm gonna make sure we all get taken care of
'cause, you know, I know Ronnie.
Wow, Hank, I had no idea you were such a big shot
in the outer metropolitan nightlife world.
You know, uh, Prince came up in here one night.
And I, myself, gave him directions
to the club he was trying to get to.
Can you hold this ChapStick?
'Cause it's standing room only in these pants.
Well, let me see. No room in the front.
Let me check around back.
Okay.
You're wearing two fanny packs?
No, I'm wearing one because I only want half my stuff.
Uh, listen, we're almost to the bouncer.
Can you guys be cool for ten seconds? Let me handle this.
What's up, my man?
My man, my man, my man,
my man, my man, my man, my man.
How you living? Large?
Listen, uh, I'm a friend of Ronnie's.
- I don't know any Ronnie. - Well, sure you do.
Isn't this Ronnie's Swing Time Cafe?
No, this is Twerk Lab.
If only there was a way we could've known.
Well, what happened to Ronnie's Swing Time Cafe?
- It became Twerk Lab. - Well, that was fun.
Time to go? I want to get home and journal about this
while it's still fresh in my mind.
Going home is what four old people would do,
and we are not old.
Uh, my good man.
I got four dance scientists
who are prepared to enter the Twerk Lab.
None of you are coming inside.
I would immediately be fired.
How about for three calcium chews?
Guys, it's a no.
Okay. Okay, okay, okay.
Four calcium chews.
- Did you say four calcium chews? - Uh-huh.
Okay, all right, you got it. Come on in.
- You serious? - No, I'm not. Back up, please.
Joke's on that hater 'cause I know another way in.
So, y'all can just thank me now
after I open this...
Damn.
Ronnie never locked that door
back when I used to come here.
Maybe that's why Ronnie went out of business.
You know, I bet someone could crawl through there
and open the door for us.
If only one of us was little enough.
Uh-uh. No, no, no, no, no.
I know what y'all are thinking.
Everybody loves to hoist the little guy.
We're a team, Sid.
We all have a special skill.
Mine is my big-ass brain
that works good, and yours is...
Well, I lost my train of thought.
Here we go again. I have heard it all before.
"Sid, climb under that fence."
"Sid, squeeze through that doggy door
and grab my keys."
"Sid, hop on the conveyor belt
and go around baggage claim
and see what the holdup is."
Well, I'm not doing it anymore.
Fine. Doesn't matter anyway.
Hell, I don't think you would fit with those extra pounds.
Oh, yeah? Watch me.
Here it comes.
Uh, unisex bathroom.
Ooh, tres chic.
Oh! Freakin' gross!
My pashmina's in the pee-pee!
Oh! Oh. Oh, I flushed it.
I flushed it. I... Can I get some help?
Help! Help me! I'm going down.
Oh!
God, I hope those gunshots are part of the song.
What are you talking about, Margaret?
This place is over the chain.
Really? You into this sick beat?
Why, yes, I am.
This is probably one of my favorite current tracks.
Who is this artist?
This artist performing right here?
- Yeah. - Uh, this is probably, uh...
Lil...
DJ... You Betcha.
Lil DJ You Betcha?
- You betcha! Mm-hmm. - Uh-huh.
And singing this hook right here?
That's, um... I-I believe that's my girl, uh, Shadoinka.
Shadoinka? You know, I don't think I've heard
of either one of those artists.
Well, that's 'cause you don't follow the charts like I do.
Let's hit that dance floor, birthday girl.
- Ugh. - I'm feeling the beat in my seat.
Just follow me.
I'm your wingman.
- We're in this together. - Okay.
Whoo! Uh...
Sid!
Damn it, Margaret, I'm busy!
Read the room!
Hi, sweetie. Are you lost?
Is it that obvious?
I have no idea what I'm doing here.
Well, maybe we can figure it out together.
This isn't real.
This can't be real.
Oh, it's real. I promise it's real.
Oh, my damn.
Man, it's loud in here.
You ever gonna answer your phone?
My phone's not ringing.
That's not good.
Can I have a Harvey Wallbanger, please?
He doesn't know what that is.
That's why I brought along a recipe.
See?
If you accept that you're old, you can be prepared.
I'm not old, and I'll prove it to you.
I hope you got binoculars in your little, uh, belt purse,
'cause you're gonna want to see these moves.
Do I have binoculars?
I do.
Where do you live? I'll take you home.
Oh, you move fast, Lucas, and I like it.
I just don't want the people who take care of you to worry.
I know what it's like.
My nana was always wandering off, too.
Wait a minute. So you mean you're not trying to sleep me?
You creep! You should be ashamed of yourself!
Your loss, buddy, 'cause this body knows things.
Evening, ladies.
You gals like fresh trout?
'Cause the moves I'm about to show you are off the hook.
He-he-he.
Ow! Ooh.
I tried to bust a move, but the move busted me.
Yeah, you ripped your pants and your underpants.
You got a lot going on back there, pal.
Listen, cover for me, Charlie.
Let's make it to the bathroom.
I truly am having the time of my life.
You know, earlier, a young man called me Mr. T.
Now the fool I'm pitying most is myself.
How's it coming with my pants, Charlie?
Uh, good. Almost done sewing up your butthole here.
Well, we're old.
Happy birthday, Margaret.
Would've been much happier if I was in bed
eating a booze-nana split right now.
But you two dragged me down here,
and I got blue-balled by some jailbait hottie
who mistook me for his lost granny.
Well, I got nothing in my pack for that.
But if it would help, I'd be happy to hit on you.
Aw, thanks, Charlie.
Hello, gorgeous.
What do you say you and I find a
mossy clearing in the woods
and do what nature...
Charlie, I meant "thanks" like "I'm good."
Whoo! I need a break.
I keep telling these boys not to fall in love,
but they will not listen.
You know what the worst part about getting old is?
Oh, this sounds like fun.
I used to be excited to do so many big things.
Live in Paris. Be a famous folk singer.
Learn how to make a frittata. And now...
Not gonna happen.
Honey, you can still make that frittata.
It's just eggs.
You wanted to be a folk singer?
I almost was.
I recorded a folk album back in 1971.
Yeah, she played me a couple cuts. It's pretty good.
A minor record label picked me up.
I wrote it about this relationship that I was in
where I was stepped on and ignored
and taken for granted. It was called Carpet.
Wow, that's awful.
Hmm. It was a tough time for me.
No, I meant the album title.
The worst part is
the day before Carpet came out,
Carole King released Tapestry.
Now, that's a professional title.
Anyway,
Tapestry blew Carpet right out of the water.
I thought you were gonna say
that Tapestry swept Carpet under the rug.
You missed an opportunity.
Okay! Maybe that joke will up the mood in here.
I used to care about so many things.
Well, crud.
Now I don't really give a crap about anything.
But, Margaret, you're missing the point.
Not giving a crap is the greatest thing
about growing old.
I mean, look at these two, okay?
She's wearing the same dress as me.
I am an idiot!
Ah.
Remember how it felt to
care about everything all the time?
- It was terrible. - Yeah.
And getting old, you can just be yourself.
Oh, I wish I could have been myself earlier.
I should have come out of the closet
the minute I knew I was gay at age...
uh, well, five.
Well, no, four or five. Whenever I saw Ben-Hur.
You guys are right. You know what?
Being young sucks ass.
And not giving a crap, that's kind of my thing.
I just, I let a number
on the calendar make me forget that.
Yeah, I mean, so what?
I took a chance, I danced, I ripped my pants.
No, I know you were trying
to be serious, but that rhyming made me giggle.
Hey, I have got ten minutes left in my birthday,
and I am not drunk enough.
Oh, I can remedy that. It's your 65th,
so we're gonna do 65 shots each.
Hank, I'll die.
Okay, then. Uh, combined.
Party time!
Ain't nothing gonna slow us down now.
Yes, let's go! Whoo!
Okay, 65 shots of premium tequila.
That'll be $900.
Here's 50 bucks. Keep the change, brother.
Um, I said $900.
I can't hear you. We're very old.
Start drinking, Margaret.
Excuse me.
Um, it's my friend Margaret's birthday,
and she would like to sing a song
from her 1971 poorly titled album, Carpet.
Oh, no, what is that banana head doing?
Come on, Margaret. You don't give a crap what people think.
Remember? In the bathroom?
After I said we should have sex in the forest?
Stop talking, Charlie. I'm coming, I'm coming.
Hey, uh, sir, this-this isn't a credit card, man.
This is a room key.
So what's the holdup? Charge it to my room.
Put a couple of burgers on there, too.
Hi, uh, I'm Margaret.
This one is called "A Fresh Shag,
"Parenthesis, Can't Cover an Untreatable Stain,
Close Parenthesis."
My girl needs some mad title help.
? After all the years ?
? We've spent together ?
? So many stains you've left on me ?
? Well, I've tried ?
? And I've tried to scrub them out ?
? But I can't ?
? Bleach out our messed-up history ?
Did I just drink 15 shots,
or does this sound kind of good?
? But a fresh shag ?
? Can't cover an untreatable stain ?
? Because the stain is the pain ?
? And the pain, it remains ?
? And it won't go away. ?
To Margaret!
It's time for you guys to go.
All right, we're going. Um, Sid, grab the bottle.
Come on, guys. We got to go now.
Thank you, Tucson. Good night!
Hey.
Your song was pretty cool.
Oh, thanks, I...
I didn't do it for you, loser. I did it for me.
Hey, thanks, you guys, for last night.
Screw you guys for this hangover.
I really should be dead.
I'm not certain I'm not.
Why are you all screaming?
I can't reach my juice.
Pancake party.
Wow, you guys smell.
I'm a post-breakfast brusher.
No, I meant you smell like alcohol.
I guess somebody had a good time last night.
Miss Jennifer!
When I get my strength back,
I'm gonna hunt you down, and I'm gonna kill you.
What? No syrup?
Okay, I gotcha.
Little hair of the dog, boys?
Well, we did promise to give these a shot.
- Oh, hell, yeah. - Yeah.
Why didn't we just stay home last night and eat these?
- Synced & corrected by MementMori - -- www.addic7ed.com --