01x18 - Super Mom // Skipping Lessons

[bunniefuu]

♪ My name is Angela ♪

♪ Hey, hello! ♪

♪ Welcome to my very own show ♪

♪ I'll introduce my friends to you ♪

Oh no! It's Ninnypoo!

♪ Shoobee-doobee-doo wap-waa. ♪

♪ My name is Angela ♪

♪ And you are not ♪

♪ Nanette Manoir is a stuck up jerk face snot ♪

And now to today's story, starring me.

And NOT starring Nannete Manoir.

Every morning is pretty much the same at my house.

Dad holds Baby Lulu.

Baby Lulu holds her bottle.

My big stupid brothers, Mark and Derek, hold a food fight.

And my Mom tries to hold it all togeth-

Mom? Mom!

School starts in ten minutes and if mom doesn't get me to

school, Mrs. Brinks will put another t*rd on my

permanent record that will be recorded permanently!

MO-OM!!!

Oh, hi, sweetie.

Didn't hear you come in.

It's ten minutes before ten minutes of eight!

And unless a chipmunk shorts out the school-bell again,

my school starts at ten minutes of eight!

[GASP!] What was I thinking?

Oh, I got so wrapped up in my project

that I completely forgot.

I don't know if we can make it in ten minutes,

but I'll write you a note.

How do you like my sculpture?

It's a Venus-de-Milo for the new millennium.

Hey!

Venus-de- millennium!

Unless mom is making a statue of a pile of

mashed potatoes that need more mashing,

it's not one of her best efforts.

Oh, I'm so sorry for making you late again, sweetheart.

I've been preoccupied with this project lately,

and I'm just severely blocked.

Can't you just eat high-fiber cereal like Dad does?

No, not THAT kind of blocked.

I've got a CREATIVE block.

Hey, bub!

Ever heard of 'right of way?!

I just hope I haven't lost my artistic touch forever!

That's impossible!

You're the most artistic artist I know!

And don't worry about making me late again,

because I'm sure you made it up to me by packing me my

new all-time favorite lunch of all-time:

bologna and ketchup!

Uh, oh.

You didn't pack me my new all-time favorite lunch

of all-time?

You didn't pack me ANY lunch?

Uh, that's okay, Mom.

Gina Lash's mom always packs her a spare lunch

in case of an emergency.

I'll just borrow one of hers.

Have fun unblocking yourself!

Why, good morning, Angela Anaconda!

Late AGAIN, Miss Anaconda?

I just hope there's room in your permanent record for

yet ANOTHER t*rd.

Wait, Mrs. Brinks.

My mom wrote me a note!

Uh, It's, uh, I guess she must have forgot to write me a note.

I'm sure she did.

Now barring any further interruptions from

Miss Anaconda, we will discuss our next assignment:

an ART project.

Art projects sure beat history assignments,

where you have to memorize a bunch of boring names

and places from history.

This art project will involve reproducing

a scene from history.

In order to get full credit, you must choose a scene

from recorded history that is readily recognizable,

features at least one major personage of historical

relevance, and begins with the letter "R."

Any questions?

Heh, do we HAVE to do it?

Um, It looks, well - It's not done, is it?

Oh, I think I've lost it, honey.

The only thing that could possibly get my creativity

going again is a whole new project!

I wish I could help you out Mom,

but I've got to get started on my Art project.

What?

Ohhhh.

Y'know, this is JUST the thing I needed!

I haven't felt this creative,

this happy, this ALIVE in months!

Ha!

Ta-da!

Uh, What IS it?

Well, it's the Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire!

See? There's Julius Caesar.

Why is he playing the saxophone?

You hate it.

No! No. It's perfect.

An F?!

Mrs. Brinks said it looked less like ancient Rome

and more like the Tapwater Springs junkyard.

She thought Caesar was Stumpy McGillicutty

the City Dump Manager.

Oh, what have I done?

I used my own daughter to break my creative block.

I put my job as an artist in front of my job as a mother.

It wasn't that bad.

I shouldn't have taken over your project.

Here I am wasting time on my supposed art when I can't

even get a passing grade on a third grade diorama -

meanwhile my daughter is going without bologna

and ketchup sandwiches. That's it.

From this day on, things are gonna change.

I'm giving up art, and I'm taking up mothering full time.

[SNORING]

Mom: Rise and shine, sleepyhead!

Mom? Is that you?

I've made all your favorites for breakfast.

Let's go, you don't want to be late for school.

Whose house is this?

Mom: Have a seat, honey.

Oh, you know it feels so liberating not to be

agonizing over clay and sculptures.

It's just wonderful to focus all my energy on my loving family.

Here. Orange Juice.

Drink up!

Why are there globs in it?

It's fresh squeezed!

I did it myself.

I don't know what this lady did with my Mom,

but I'm not asking!

I could get used to this kind of living.

And not only did she make us a smiling breakfast,

but she actually packed me a lunch!

I wish my Mom would have a mid-life crisis.

You know, Angela Anaconda,

you do owe me a lunch from yesterday.

What is this stuff?

Crustless finger sandwiches with

[SNIFF] [SNIFF]

uh, cucumber and goat cheese - imported from

[SNIFF] uh France - [SNIFF] no, Belgium.

Too gourmet for my blood.

You can pay me back some other time.

I can't eat this weird fancy food!

Whatever happened to good, old fashioned GOOD food,

like jelly and mayonnaise sandwiches or my new

favorite, bologna and ketchup?

Your cucumber sandwiches are perfectly de-crusted.

And that goat cheese is perfectly goat-like.

I'm just finishing up a set of new curtains to match

my new throw rugs - aren't they homey?

There are already matching doilies on the coffee table.

And plastic all over the furniture -

DON'T SIT THERE!

I just fluffed the cushions!

Stay on the runners.

I just fluffed the carpet too!

Oh, and there are homemade cookies in the kitchen!

Finally, something good about the new leaf my mother

has turned over that I was beginning to wish

she'd turn back.

Mom: They're high fiber low-fat cookies, dear!

They're Bran-tastic!

[COUGH] You mean Barf-tastic.

Uh-uh-uh!

No dogs allowed on the plastic covered furniture!

Someone's up early.

Someone couldn't sleep on account of the sewing

machine making noise all night.

Oh, I may have gotten a little carried away,

but you'll be glad I did when you see what I made you

to go with the new shoes I bought you: Mary Jane's!

And to top it all off, a matching kicky beret!

Try it on!

I figured, if I wanted to be the perfect Mom,

I'd better have the perfect looking daughter!!

What is she trying to do to me?!?

What happens when a perfect mother becomes perfectly

unbearable?

Stay tuned for the Anacondas.

So now my life is so perfect, that it's a tv

show that people actually watch on TV.

And everyone is happy, except for me.

But luckily, I have something that my perfect

mother does not - the perfect remote control!

And as for my unbearable brothers,

they will be recast by Caesar and Stumpy McGillicutty.

"Hey hey. that's not in the script,"

Mark and Derek will cry.

But on my TV show i say what goes,

and I say, it's curtains for you two!

Oh, look, it is our wacky neighbor Nanette Manoir,

stopping by to borrow a cup of sugar.

Sorry, sweet Ninny-mooch, I will tell her,

but it looks like you have been canceled.

"Would you like your eggs scrambled or over-easy?"

my supermom will ask.

"Neither," I will tell her, on account of I liked you

better when you brains were scrambled and eggs were

something we only got at a restaurant.

And then, everything will be back to normal on account of

I will change my perfect mother back to her regular self.

I said - I will change my perfect mother!

Hey! Watch the hair, I spent a hour in make-up!

Cut it out!

Cut it out!

Angela, I know how much you've enjoyed all the fancy

foods I've been making for you and how you like the way

the house looks all spiffed up and all the extra

attention I've been paying you and the family, but -

But WHAT, Mom?

Look, Angela, I can't keep up this charade anymore,

pretending to be some "perfect" mom I'm not.

I'm sorry.

To tell you the truth Mom, I hate gloppy orange juice.

And plastic on the furniture,

and these shiny shoes, and gourmet foods.

Oh! and I really hate -

I get the point.

So, I guess that means we won't be having the salmon

pinwheels I made for breakfast.

Got any other ideas?

Cookies for breakfast?

Why not?

Ta-da!

I call it "Cookie-De-Milo!"

I think you got your creativity back, Mom.

And it's delicious!

[BELL RINGS]

Today is Volcano Day in Mrs. Brinks' class and all the

kids are presenting their science project volcanoes.

I think mine is the best on account of Johnny Abatti

is my partner and we made ours out of meatballs with

spaghetti sauce for lava.

Thank you, Angela and Johnny.

That was certainly an interesting use of meat.

Mrs. Brinks, may I go next?

You most certainly may, Nanette.

No reason to leave the best for last.

My science project is a genuine place setting that

was once used by the famous French scientist Madame Curie.

Oh my. How very thrilling.

Uh, Mrs. Brinks?

Wasn't the project to make a volcano?

Yes, and let that be a lesson, children.

You should all learn to think, like Nanette,

"outside of the box."

I'd like to see Nanette inside a box.

Nanette Manoir, "A-plus!"

Merci beaucoup, Mrs. Brinks.

Which is French for: good breeding always wins out.

The rest of you can just write yourselves down as a "C."

What?! But that's not fair.

You're absolutely right, Angela.

It isn't fair that Nanette merely gets an A plus

for such superior creativity!

I am going to write a special commendation to the

school board on Nanette's behalf right now.

But! [GROAN]

I am sick of teacher's pet Nanette Manure

always being the teacher's pet.

Me and Johnny Abatti had the best volcano project.

I completely agree, Angela.

Your molten lava has just the right hint of oregano.

If only Nanette wasn't in our class.

Yeah, well, dream on, Angela Anaconda,

because that's never gonna happen.

I guess you're right, Gina Lash.

And I'm afraid that means were stuck with Ninnie-wart

for the rest of our lives.

[BELL RINGS]

Really, Mrs. Brinks?!

A letter from the school board - about moi?

Yes, Nanette.

I wanted to wait until you were here to open it.

I'm sure it's some sort of special citation.

"Dear Mrs. Brinks.

Due to your glowing reports about Nanette Manoir and her

academic achievements, we have decided to advance

Nanette to the fourth grade."

I'm so devastated, I can barely speak.

I'm so devastated I can't speak.

Oh, how wonderful.

You said it, Mrs. Brinks!

Thank you for helping me pack up my desk, Mrs. Brinks.

My fair skin is very prone to paper cuts.

May I keep this?

As a memento of your refined penmanship.

Please do.

Here, let me help.

There you go, Nanette.

Well, I-I suppose this is good-bye.

You will come and visit, won't you?

I'll try.

But as you know, a fourth grader's schedule is tres busy.

Not to mention how terribly active my new social life

will be.

[GASP]

Toodles.

It sure won't be the same around here without her.

Somehow you and I shall get through this together.

You've always been such a comfort to me, Angela dear.

I have?

Mrs. Brinks has been staring out the window all morning,

looking all moony- eyed.

She either really misses Nanette or she's

really sick, which, come to think of it,

isn't all that different.

[SNIFFLES]

So, does anyone have any suggestions for our upcoming

class project on the Arctic?

What about you, dear?

Uh, I only have the same idea I had last week,

Mrs. Brinks - Styrofoam igloos.

But you liked Nanette's idea about having a furrier come

in and show how they skin a sable to make coats.

Yes, well, Nanette no longer graces us with her presence,

and I think Styrofoam igloos are a wonderful idea.

You do?

Indeed I do.

I always knew you had what it takes.

You did?

Of course.

In fact, why don't you take Nanette's desk.

All the better to see your Mrs. Brinks.

It's like you're the new teacher's pet or something.

I don't get it.

You and me both, Johnny Abatti.

Not that I mind, I don't mind adding.

It's called transference.

Mrs. Brinks has lost her precious Nanette,

so she's subconsciously chosen to transfer all those

feelings to you.

Transference, huh?

Sounds good to me.

I get to be teacher's pet without even having to suck up.

And best of all, we're rid of Nincom-ninny-poop.

Hello third graders, I'm going to dine with my new

fourth grade amis, which is French for nouveau

upperclassmen.

Bon jour, everyone.

Who cares to partake of some vichyssoise and croissants?

Poor Ninny Wart, all puckered up with no butt to kiss.

Life is good.

And you make a doorway here, and there you have it:

a Styrofoam igloo!

What a wonderful and educational presentation,

Angela dear.

I am loving my new position as teacher's pet, Gina Lash!

Just be careful of the downside, Angela Anaconda.

Downside?

What downside?

Look what I have.

Prune cookies.

Baked especially for my little igloo architect.

Heh-heh, thanks, Mrs. Brinks.

They'll make a really great after-dinner treat.

For King.

Please, eat one now.

I just want to see your face light up when you take a bite.

Don't say a word.

Your expression says it all.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the downside.

[GROAN]

So what if I have to eat a few prune cookies.

All I know is if I'm teacher's pet,

I can get away with all kinds of stuff.

Yoo hoo, Angela!

Mrs. Brinks?!

I thought perhaps you'd like to accompany me to the craft

store and help pick out some designs for next semester's

bulletin board.

The theme's going to be "arithmatic-tac-toe!"

Heh hum, gee, Mrs. Brinks.

That sounds fun, but uh, we already have plans.

We do?! Splendid!

Oh I really shouldn't, but I suppose one more couldn't hurt.

Why, this just might become my new hang- out!

With Mrs. Brinks following me around all day,

I had to cut through six back yards and fake a

seizure just to ditch her, but I finally did.

Mrs. Brinks: Yoo hoo!

Room for one more?

[FORCED LAUGH]

[GROAN]

Bon journo, fellow upperclassmen.

Would anyone care for some-

Well, you're all very welcome, I'm sure.

Hey shorty, you forgot the chocolate- covered raisins!

Hey, you know what?

I left my gum in my other skirt.

I can't watch a movie without gum.

I'll just run home and go get it.

Nonsense, Angela dear.

I'll go buy you some at the snack bar.

My treat.

Gee, thanks.

I bet you're getting real sick of hanging out with me, huh?

Why Angela! Of course not.

I'm having the time of my life!

Looks like we'll be hanging out together from now on!

FROM NOW ON?!!!!

So now it is bedtime, the one time I am definitely

safe from "you know who."

Nighty, night.

Don't let the bedbugs bite.

At least I can take my pet for a walk without you-

What a lovely day for a walk.

And what a good little pet you are.

Teacher's Pet! Teacher's Pet!

I am not a teacher's pet, I will tell them!

Of course you are, my dear.

You've always been such a comfort to me.

[SCREAM]

Some prune cookies, dear?

[SCREAM; GASP]

Free at last.

Whew!

I think I finally ditched her!

My pet! My pet!

No!

AHHHHHH!!!!

The previews always scare me too.

I've got to put a stop to this!

Mrs. Brinks, I've got to talk to you!

Wonderful news, Angela!

Our precious Nanette has decided to return

to the third grade!

Yes, while I am clearly more advanced,

both socially and intellectually,

I don't feel it is fair to deprive you third graders

of a role model such as myself.

That is so nice of you, Nanette.

And I am sure you will be sorely missed by the fourth

graders who do not even like you.

Humph!

To celebrate this glorious occasion,

Nanette and I are going downtown to attend a French opera.

We'll leave you and your little friends to your

less-cultivated entertainment.

Well, I guess it's back to "C minuses" for me.

On the other hand, I'm no longer teacher's pet!

Hey Mrs. Brinks, don't forget your cookies!

Ohh, I'm glad I remembered!

Nanette just loves these! -Bleh!

[GIGGLES]

♪♪