What a glorious day.
Can't help but put a bounce in one's step, can it? If you're gonna be cheerful, sit somewhere else.
- Damn it, I broke a nail.
- Here.
Here.
- Oh, hello, Niles.
- If my life gets any worse, I'm phoning hell to ask about their exchange program.
Well, lucky me.
I stumbled in at happy hour.
Here.
- So, Niles, Maris at it again? - Oh, worse.
And it's so depressing I can barely talk about it.
My Gourmet Club is holding elections to see who will win this year's Golden Apron Wait, I can see I'm gonna need a hanky for this.
Latte, please.
To go.
Normally, the finalists compete by giving lectures.
I'd written mine.
A waggish look at food fads of yesteryear entitled: "Fondue: What Were We Thinking?" Suddenly last night, disaster.
Someone proposed that instead of lecture, this year's finalists should compete by hosting dinner parties in their homes.
So why don't you invite them all over and cook them a meal? At the Shangri-La? I can't tell the cream of Seattle's gourmet set that I've moved out of the Montana and into that gulag with a game room.
- I'll just have to drop out of the race.
- Let's not be hasty.
Let's give this some thought.
- Every problem has a solution.
- Do you call that a problem? A problem is when your kid keeps you up three nights in a row with colic, and you're so burnt out that you rear-end a Lexus with four passengers, each and every one a lawyer.
So you'll probably be sued and spend the rest of your working life, if you ever even get a job, lining the pockets of four blood-sucking, whiplash-faking fat cats.
That's what a problem is.
- Can you have it at a restaurant? - It's against the rules.
- Thanks for the sympathy.
- Well, I - Sympathy for what? - Oh, I don't know.
She broke a nail.
Anyway, Niles, try as I might, I can't think of a single thing.
I'm sorry.
Well, don't blame yourself.
You can blame Claudia Kynock.
The whole dinner scheme was her greedy notion.
- Claudia Kynock? Kevin's widow? - Can you believe it? She owns six newspapers and nine radio stations.
She'll still cadge a free meal faster than that bulbous cartoon fellow who mooches hamburgers from Popeye.
- I know I must sound - Wimpy.
And whiny too, but I just I wanted this.
And after the year I've been through, I needed something to restore my pride, my dignity, my manhood.
That Golden Apron could do it.
And you are going to have it.
You can have the dinner party at my house.
- You mean it? - Yes.
I'll rent an extra-large table, and share in the hosting chores.
You are a saint.
I did note you only offered after you found out our club includes a rich owner who could give you a job.
Well, Niles, I must say I'm hurt.
I offer out of the goodness of my heart, you make me sound like an opportunist.
I'm sorry.
How can I make it up to you? Well, I don't know.
Seat me next to someone interesting.
- Oh, Claudia, perhaps.
- Yes, why not? Put her on my left.
It's my best side.
He actually marked the bottle so he'd know if you took some? Yeah.
Then he marched into my room and confronted me with the evidence.
I said, "All right, if you want to be such a miser, then fine.
I'll buy me own bath salts.
" Oh, hi, Pam.
I didn't know you were here.
I told you this morning she was coming by.
Must have slipped my mind.
Well, don't you look nice tonight? You too, Martin.
I love your sweater.
Yeah, pretty cheerful, huh? You know, not everyone can wear these colours.
It helps if you're a matador.
Come on, we don't want to be late for the movie.
- Oh, can I freshen up first? - Oh, yeah, yeah, right through there.
You dirty old man.
Flirting with a girl her age.
Well, she was flirting right back.
I saw her give me the once-over.
Yeah, she looked once and it was over.
You never acted this silly with any of me other girlfriends.
- What's so special about Pam? - Oh, nothing.
She's just young and friendly, and she reminds me of the girls I used to date back during the war.
What, you mean Korea? Mr.
Crane, it's not dating when you're an occupying force.
Well, just ask her if she's interested.
Have you lost your mind? Hey, the gals in Pyeongchang used to think I was pretty damn cute.
Yeah, well, this is a bit different.
You're not 21.
And her village hasn't just burned down.
You're not gonna get her with a kind smile and a Hershey bar.
Oh, just ask her, okay? This explains that so-called mix-up with those mail-order videos.
Mistake, my fanny.
You ordered The Joy Luck Club.
- Oh, hi, Dad, Daphne.
- Hey, you guys.
- Pam, nice to see you.
- Hi.
Hello, Niles.
- All right, we're off.
Good night.
- Good night.
Pam, an-nyong-hi kye-se-yo.
Just keep moving.
- What's with Dad? - It's a Korea thing.
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