♪ The Simpsons ♪
(Bart humming)
This is gonna be the best
birthday breakfast Mom every had.
Hey, Lis. You think that’s
enough for her?
-Maybe one more.
I hope she likes
the presents we got her.
Well, I know
she’ll like mine.
Who wouldn’t like a bottle
of real French perfume
all the way from gay Paree?
Four bucks, plus tax.
Well, I think she’s going to like
my handmade birthday card better.
Oh, big deal.
Dry macaroni, spray paint
and glue. Whoopie.
Dibs. First dibs.
I get to lick the beaters.
Ow! Ow! Ow!
Litha, my “ongue” is “uck”
in the “eaters.” My “ongue”!
Happy birthday!
Huh? What?
-Here’s your birthday breakfast.
-Well, isn’t this nice?
-My birthday?
It’s my birthday?
What did I get?
I love birthdays.
No, Homer, it’s mine.
You don’t even know
your own wife’s birthday?
Well, of course I know.
You really thought
I forgot, didn’t you?
Oh, right.
What did you get her, Dad?
Yeah, what did you get?
Uh, well,
a very thoughtful gift.
But it’s a surprise.
You know, it’s such
a beautiful morning,
I think I’ll take a little stroll
around the block.
-(footsteps accelerate)
-(door opens, closes)
(car starts,
drives away)
-I think he forgot, Mom.
(tires screeching)
Oh, no. Come on.
Come on. Open up!
Good morning, consumers.
The Springfield Mall
is now open
for your spending needs.
Hmm? Uh… no.
Too salty.
Um… nah.
Hmm? Nah, too corny.
Too exciting.
Patty, he’s out buying me
something right now.
Oh, Marge. He never gets you
anything you want.
He always gets something
for himself.
The tackle box.
Remember when he got you
the tackle box?
And Connie Chung.
And when he surprised you
with the Connie Chung calendar?
I’m sure he doesn’t
do it deliberately.
Hmm. Hmm!
Well, Homer and I had
a lovely dining experience
at Chez Pierre.
Or the Rusty Barnacle
is nice.
PATTY: No, no, no.
We wanna take you
someplace fun–
The Singing Sirloin.
The place where the waiters sing.
-Be right there.
(grunts, whistling)
Homer, we’re
having dinner tonight
at The Singing Sirloin.
That sounds delightful.
Just you and me
and the balladeers.
-And the kids.
-Fair enough.
-And my sisters.
♪♪ (harmonica,
waiters singing scales)
♪ How we danced on
the night we were wed ♪
♪ Havin’ my baby ♪
♪ What a lovely way to say
how much you love me ♪
♪ Nearer my God to thee ♪
♪ Nearer to thee ♪
Oh, perfume!
(sniffs) Whoa! Hmm.
Thank you, Bart.
-You’re welcome, Mom.
-34 years old.
Time enough to start over
with a new man.
-Someone who eats with his mouth shut.
-What’s that, Patty?
Nothing. Finish your steak.
-Look at him wolf down that gristle.
SELMA: It’s an accident
waiting to happen.
Do you know
the Heimlich Maneuver?
I think she likes
my present better.
-Does not. Does not. Does not.
-Does too. Does too.
Then how come she’s not putting on
any of your perfume?
Hey, Mom.
How come you’re
not putting on any of my perfume?
(clears throat)
Well, I’m saving it
for a special occasion.
What the hell are you talking about?
There’s gallons of it!
-But this occasion is already so special.
If we made it any more special,
we might end up
making it less special.
-Gotcha. Told ya she liked mine better.
-Oh, brother!
Hold on.
Hold on now.
Your mother hasn’t opened
my present yet.
♪ Happy birthday to you ♪
♪ Happy birthday to you ♪
♪ Happy 34th birthday,
Mrs. Homer Simpson ♪
♪ Happy birthday to you ♪
Oh. Don’t worry.
This frosting
will come right off.
Beauty, isn’t she?
It’s hard for me to judge
since I’ve never bowled
in my life!
Well, if you don’t want it,
I know someone who does.
HOMER: You always say
we should talk.
I’m talking right now,
as a matter of fact.
But I’m going to stop
in a second,
so please, say something back,
Marge, please?
I’m gonna stop talking…
You bought that bowling ball
for you, not for me.
What? No.
The holes were drilled
for your fingers.
I wanted to surprise you.
I couldn’t very well
chop your hand off
and bring it to the store,
could I?
You never intended for me
to use that ball.
Well, if that’s how you feel,
I’ll take it back.
You can’t take it back.
You had your name engraved on it!
-So you’d know it’s from me!
I’m keeping the ball…
for myself!
What? But you don’t
know how to bowl. Oops.
I’m keeping it,
and I’m going to use it.
Thank you
for the present, Homer.
Well… you’re…
(bowling pins clattering)
Excuse me.
Where do I throw this?
-Over there.
-Thank you.
-Wait a minute. You’re gonna need a lane.
-No, thanks.
-I’m here out of spite.
-Can’t bowl without a lane.
-Well, all right.
-Okay. Here you go.
You keep score on this.
-What size shoes you wear?
-Never you mind.
You can’t wear
street shoes on the lanes.
You gotta wear
bowling shoes.
What size, please?
-13 double “A.”
-13 double “A”?
This is the closest I’ve got.
A nine and a fifteen.
Thank you.
A little warm and moist.
(women cheering)
So, 120 pins later,
I am the better man.
I don’t see what he’s doing
that’s so different
from what I’m doing.
I’m awfully sorry.
Entirely my fault.
It is nice
to meet you,
Oh, no, no.
Homer’s my… ball’s name.
-I’m Marge.
Your fingers are so slender,
so feminine.
They’re far too tapered
for the ball you’re using.
You need something lighter.
More delicate.
Use my ball.
No. No, thank you,
Mr., um, Brunswick.
-Call me Jacques.
-I’ll just use my ball.
As you wish.
Many people have
senseless attachments
to heavy, clumsy things,
such as this Homer
of yours.
-May I ask you a bold question?
-You’ve never bowled before.
-Never. No.
Then I will teach you.
I don’t wanna trouble you.
Not at all.
I am a professional.
Roll the ball for me, Marge.
Let me see your form.
All right.
But I’m not very good.
I can hit that one pin
all right,
but the rest of them
don’t even wobble.
I can help you, Marge.
Pick up the ball.
Pick up Homer.
Pick him up.
-Now throw.
Throw, damn you.
a very good teacher.
Yes, I am a very good teacher,
and I can teach you everything.
I can tell you what the little arrows
on the wood floor mean,
which frame
is the beer frame.
I bet you don’t know how to make
a five-seven-ten split.
-Do you, Marge?
But first of all, you yell,
“The eight-pin is a cop.”
-Let it out, Marge. Laugh loud.
Laugh out loud.
You’ll lose weight.
-Oh, that’s very funny.
-Feels good.
I didn’t realize there was
so much to this game.
What do you charge
for lessons?
-Twenty-five dollars.
-Twenty-five dollars!
It’s a $40 value.
Well, all right.
When do we start?
We have already begun.
Now this is living, eh, kids?
Hot pizza–
the food of kings.
Don’t be scared, Dad.
It’s not so hard
takin’ care of us.
Lisa, I’m not scared.
I think it’s a great chance
to spend some time with you kids.
Your mother always gets
to be alone with you,
and now it’s my turn.
Does the time
always drag like this?
First, you must get
to know your lane.
Feel the slickness.
Feel the satiny finish.
Caress it.
Experience it.
-Quite smooth, isn’t it, Marge?
-Ooh, very smooth.
-Smooth? Yes?
-Yes, very. Yes.
-Yes. Smooth? Yes.
-Smooth. Yes.
You could eat off of it.
You hungry?
-Four onion rings!
Mmm. Delicioso!
My compliments
to the delivery boy.
Okay. We’ve eaten
and eaten well.
What else do we have to do?
Let’s check the list
your mom left us.
Eat. Mm-hmm.
Oh, clean up.
Don’t worry, everybody.
This will be a breeze
if we all pitch in.
All right!
We’re clean!
Now we’ll…
put Maggie to bed.
♪ Lullaby
and good night ♪
♪ Go to bed
and sleep tight ♪
♪ Close your eyes,
start to yawn ♪
♪ Pleasant dreams
until the dawn ♪♪
-Homer. Homer?
-Huh? Huh?
Oh, how was bowling?
It’s a very
challenging hobby.
Sport, dear. It’s a sport,
you silly thing.
But I think I’ll do
much better tomorrow night.
You’re going back?
Well, sure.
If you don’t mind
taking care
of the kids again.
Uh, no.
I don’t mind.
Good night, Homer.
Good night.
-It is for you.
-Oh, Jacques, it fits.
You got it in my size,
and it has my name on it.
It’s really for me.
Enjoy it, my darling.
Here we are.
You didn’t have
to drop me off.
But I wanted to.
Marge, do you know
how beautiful you look
in the moonlight?
Oh, Jacques.
I’m a married woman.
I know. I know.
My mind says, “Stop,”
but my heart…
and my hips cry, “Proceed.”
Marge, darling,
I want to see you tomorrow.
Not at Barney’s Bowlarama.
Away from the thunderous
folly of clattering pins.
-Meet me tomorrow for brunch.
-What’s brunch?
You’d love it.
It’s not quite breakfast,
it’s not quite lunch,
but it comes with a slice
of cantaloupe at the end.
You don’t get completely
what you would at breakfast,
but you get a good meal.
-I don’t think so.
-Marge, darling…
there are ten pins
in my heart.
You’ve knocked over eight.
Won’t you please
pick up that spare?
Mm. Mm.
All right!
-What, Homer?
-(horn honks)
-BART: Uh-oh. School bus.
Here you go, kids.
Special lunches.
Lots of good things
for growing bodies,
and some treats
just for fun.
Ay, caramba!
Are you going bowling
again tonight, Mom?
Well, yes, I am,
as a matter of fact.
Here’s more treats.
But don’t worry,
your dad will take care of dinner.
Mmm, Wednesday.
Hoagie night.
Good-bye, Lisa.
My darling little Lisa.
Good-bye, Bart.
My special little guy.
Great lunches, eh, Lis?
Oh, Bart, don’t you see?
This is what psychologists
call overcompensation.
Mom is wracked with guilt
because her marriage
is failing.
Hey, don’t
rock the boat, man.
Whatever it is,
we’re making out like bandits.
Bart, I read about
what happens to kids
whose parents no longer love
and cherish each other.
They go through
eight separate stages.
Right now,
I’m in stage three, fear.
You’re in stage two,
-No, I’m not.
-Yes, you are.
-No, I’m not.
-Yes, you are.
-I’m not. I’m not. Am not!
-I stand corrected.
-I’m a married woman.
don’t call me that.
No, no, no, no, no.
Mimosa is the name
of the drink.
It’s orange juice
and champagne.
You’re so wonderful
that you thought it was
something offensive.
Oh, well, thank you.
WOMAN: Marge?
Marge Simpson.
You remember me,
don’t you?
I’m Helen Lovejoy,
the gossipy wife
of the minister.
Oh, yes.
Hello, Helen.
I had just finished eating
and was about to leave
when I looked over this way
and said to myself,
“Why, isn’t that
Marge Simpson over there
having brunch with a man
who isn’t her husband?”
And I just had to come over
and say hello.
-We’re, um–
-Oh, don’t squirm on my account.
I am giving her a bowling lesson,
thank you.
Now, Marge, the pins on
the three-seven-ten split would be here.
We’ll make this little piece
of food the ball.
The ball’s bigger.
You know that.
But for food,
this is a good ball.
Oh, well, bye-bye.
See you in church
on Sunday, Marge.
Good-bye, Helen.
Good-bye, Helen.
You have
a lovely friend there.
-Let’s hope something runs over her.
Your laughter
is like music to me.
But if you laugh at what I say next,
I will die,
for I am about to say
something very serious,
perhaps shocking.
Marge, my darling,
I want you to meet
with me again.
-That doesn’t shock me.
-Away from prying eyes,
away from the Helens
of the world,
at my apartment–
the Fiesta Terrace.
(doorbell rings)
I’ve been waiting for you.
Come in, my captivating one.
May I have this dance?
♪♪ (Ballroom)
You certainly have a lot
of bowling trophies.
I like you so much.
They’re not for bowling, Marge.
You’re so naive.
They are for lovemaking.
There, my darling.
Thank you.
(glasses break)
What cosmic force
brought us together, Marge?
Some divine pinspotter…
must have placed us
side by side.
Like two fragile
bowling pins–
Standing bravely–
-Until inevitably–
-We must topple.
Marge, speak to me.
-Is Thursday okay?
-It’s okay, indeed.
“For Marge”?
Hey, Dad.
What do you say we toss
the ol’ apple around, huh?
Sound like fun?
Son, I don’t know
if I can lift my head,
let alone a ball.
Aw, come on, Dad.
Get the lead out.
Simpson checks the runner on first.
He’s cool. He’s fine.
Here’s the windup,
and here’s the pitch.
Dad, you didn’t
even say “ouch.”
Oh, sorry.
Lisa. Lisa, I think
you’re right about Dad.
-Something’s very, very wrong here.
-Frightened, Bart?
Welcome to stage three: fear.
Well, come on.
We gotta do something, man.
Sorry, Bart.
I’d love to help you,
but I’m mired
in stage five, self-pity.
Look, Dad. I don’t know
what’s going on,
but once you gave me
some advice that might help.
I gave you advice?
Get out of here.
Yeah, you did.
You told me when
something’s bothering you,
and you’re too damn stupid
to know what to do,
just keep your fool mouth shut.
At least that way,
you won’t make things worse.
Hmm. Good advice.
may I speak to you?
-You know, I’ve been thinking.
Everyone makes peanut butter
and jelly sandwiches,
but usually the jelly
drips out over the side,
and the guy’s
hands get all sticky.
But your jelly stays
right in the middle
where it’s supposed to.
I don’t know how you do it.
You just got a gift, I guess.
I’ve always thought so.
I just never mentioned it,
but it’s time you knew
how I feel.
I don’t believe in keeping
feelings bottled up.
Good-bye, my wife.
-(door opens, closes)
-Good-bye, Homer.
To the most beautiful
moment in life.
Better than the deed,
better than the memory–
the moment
of anticipation.
Oh, Jacques, you handsome devil.
Look at you.
You’re really going
to strike out tonight!
-Ain’t you hungry, Homer?
Well, then why aren’t
you eating your sandwich?
How can I eat it?
She made it.
It’s all I have left.
Domestic situation.
♪♪ (“Wedding March”)
(tires squealing)
(tires squeal)
♪♪ (Theme from “An Officer
And A Gentleman”)
Uh, huh?
What a lovely surprise.
You’re here to see me,
Of course!
(co-workers clapping,
Hey, way to go, Homer.
Way to go!
What will I tell
the boss?
Tell him I’m going
to the backseat of my car
with the woman I love,
and I won’t be back
for ten minutes.
(clapping, cheering)