05x12 - Ann's Decision

[bunniefuu]

I'm gonna get 12 eggs
and part of a dead animal.

Dealer's choice.
Please and thank you.

What can I get you, Ann?

I will have oatmeal
and berries.

And I will have catfish
and grits,

with pumpernickel toast.

Explain.

Well, instead
of getting swept up

in my boyfriends'
personalities,

I am dating myself
and trying new things.

So every time I go out to eat,

I order one thing
that's typical me

and then something
that I would never order.

Now I have two best friends,
Ann and Ann.

Each one more beautiful
than the other.

Oh, I also
have been documenting

all the new things I'm trying
on my blog.

Check this out.

I went skydiving.

Which Ann is screaming
like a maniac?

Oatmeal Ann or catfish Ann?

I'm not sure, because I instantly
blacked out from extreme terror.

Hey, I have an idea
for your blog.

I think you should
take yourself ice-skating.

- That sounds fun.
- Yeah, we'll do a double date:

You and you, and me and Ben.

But I have to warn you,
I'm very good at ice-skating.

I can do jumps.

You know what?
I probably shouldn't come.

I'll embarrass the both of you.

Actually, I know what
my next activity is gonna be.

And it's a biggie.

I want to be a mom.

I'm going
to the sperm bank today.

Can you come?

Wow, today?

Ann, you know
that I fully support

any woman's decision--

especially a beautiful
unicorn-nurse like yourself--

in creating the family
that she wants.

But you are so brilliant
and kind and stupid hot.

I mean,
you're definitely gonna find

a wonderful guy
who loves you and respects you

and fills your home
with multi-ethnic genius babies.

Maybe, or maybe not.

You hit the lottery with Ben,
and that's great,

but not everybody's so lucky.

I've wanted to be a mom
for a long time,

I'm ready, and I think
I'd be good at it.

Ann is giving up on love

and deciding
to have a baby with herself.

And she has only been
dating herself for six weeks.

If she were dating a guy
for six weeks,

and they decided to have a kid,

I'd be like,
"Congratulations, Ann...

And Channing Tatum."

Because that is the only scenario
that would make sense to me.

What a gorgeous
herbaceous medley.

There's been a mistake.

You've accidentally given me
the food that my food eats.

Salad is traditionally
the first course at a wedding.

Is a gerbil marrying a rabbit?

I'm in charge of food
for the wedding.

So I brought in
Pawnee's three best caterers

and a panel of experts.

Chris loves vegetables.

Ron loves meat.

And Tom considers himself
a foodie,

which apparently means
taking instagrams of food

instead of eating it.

Okay, so I liked number one,

Chris liked number two,

and Ron liked number three.

Tom, what about you?

Caterer number one's
presentation was simple,

mm, yet exhausting.

Number two's was subtle
and provocative,

like a coy Dutch woman
guarding a dark secret.

Nothing you're saying
is helpful.

But number three's told
a story--

a story from a book
I wouldn't read

but I would watch the movie of.

That's nonsense.

You know what?

I'm gonna go
with the first place.

I really loved that appetizer.

Oh, the mini-calzone?

I wouldn't call it that.

It was more like
a savory pastry.

Delicate little dough pocket

filled with tomato sauce,
cheese, and seasoned meat.

Just a stunning
culinary innovation.

It was a calzone.

It was literally
just a small calzone.

Let me just get some details
for your file.

Now, are you two a couple?

No. Tragically,
we are both heterosexual.

So, Ann, what are you
looking for in particular?

Some sperm.

I meant in terms of a donor?

Oh, you know, nice guy...
Nice sperm.

Flip through this binder, make a note
of anyone who interests you,

and I'll be back shortly.

Oh!
This guy went to Harvard!

So did the Unabomber.

This guys seems healthy.

Loves cycling.

Yeah, so did Lance Armstrong,

and he turned out
to be a lying drug user.

Or a hero.

I don't know where we stand
on him now.

Hello, ladies.

Fancy meeting you here.

Whoa, Sewage Joe.

Wow. Ann, you remember
Joe Fantringham.

He is the gentleman
who was fired

for emailing
a picture of his penis

to every woman in city hall.

Guilty.

Yeah, that's what
the judge said.

- Mmhmm.
- Joe, you are a donor here, huh?

Did you hear that, Ann?

Big time,
me and all my buddies.

Free money, free p*rn.

Best job I ever had.

Also...

If you're looking
to buy some weed,

I'm looking as well.

- Shall we?
- Yup.

Okay, Leslie Knope outfit
number eight.

Babe, you look super hot.

You realize you've said that
about all of them?

Well, she has,
every single time.

'Cause she is super hot.

Honestly, you'd look hot naked.

Ugh. This suit makes me want
to scold a Catholic child.

I don't know who Ann Taylor is,

but I hate her
and I want to k*ll her.

I have to lead a public forum
for the Pawnee Commons

every day this week,

and I hate talking to people.

So, to get through it, I figured
I'm just gonna basically try

to imitate Leslie.

She still wears this.

She had the patch sewn in.

You can't remove it.

What's in the pocket, you ask?

A ticket stub from
a Fleetwood Mac concert in 1995,

and...

This one is terrible,

but it is slightly less terrible
than the rest.

So tomorrow,
I lead a public forum

in Leslie's Fleetwood Mac
sex pants.

Fleetwood Mac Sex Pants.
New band name. I call it.

Ooh, you know what?

Maybe just Fleetwood Mac.

So what's the next move?

Is there, like, a better sperm bank
in Eagleton or something?

Um, you don't want
a demon baby.

Look, you're Ann Perkins.

Sperm that is worthy
of your perfect eggs

does not grow on trees.

I think, ideally,

you'd want
to know the guy, right?

You'd want
to know his personality,

his favorite season of Friends,

whether or not he hates jazz--
hopefully, he does.

You'd want to know him.

Yes, Leslie,
you're totally right.

I'm gonna go home,
and I'm gonna make a list

of all the guys I already know
who could be donors.

And then, I'm gonna call them

and tell them
I'm doing some blog entry

on men's health or something.

I can interview them
and ask them whatever I want.

You're a genius!

This is your idea,
and I love it.

I'll call you later.

No.

If I don't slow
this baby train down,

Ann may end up having a baby
with some random weirdo

instead of her soul mate.

I fully believe

that a woman should be in charge
of what happens to her body.

In this case,
the body is Ann's,

and the woman
in charge of it is me.

I was up all night brainstorming
and this is the complete official list

of candidates
for Ann's baby daddy.

Wow, how did you come up
with these three names?

Well, I eliminated everyone
in a relationship

and the obvious "No" s,

like Knuckle-hair Dave
from HR.

I don't mind the knuckle hair.

- I just think he's a d*ck.
- Yeah.

And I was left
with those three guys.

Don't forget, they don't know
about the sperm donor thing.

I don't want them to know.

I told them I was
interviewing them for a blog.

Here comes the first one.
Dr. Harris!

- H-hey, there he is.
- Hi.

Ann, Leslie.

Small office.
Mine's way bigger.

Is this gonna take long?
Got a patient coming in.

No, not at all.
Please have a seat.

Actually, maybe you should
check in on your patient.

I know that I hate it
when my doctor makes me wait.

Guy's got a spinal fracture.

He's not going anywhere.

- Uh-huh.
- Ooh.

The seats in my office
are leather.

Okay.

Chris?

I'm dying.

I was dying earlier today.

And then I d*ed.

Now I'm dead.

I had to cancel a date

with Shauna Malwae-Tweep.

And I really like her.

Do you think
she'll still like me

now that I'm dead?

What is this?

It's food poisoning.
I have it too.

I did not sleep
for one second last night.

And I cracked the bottom
of the toilet bowl.

Oh, God, don't say that.

Has anybody talked to Tom?

I can't even imagine

what that tiny little man
must be feeling like.

I have voided more
than Tom's body weight

in the last 12 hours alone.

He might have just disappeared
off the earth.

We need to call him.
We must reach out to him.

I can't do it.

Ben,

extension 7820.

Hello, everyone.

I'm April Ludgate
from the Parks Department.

And welcome to a public forum
about the Pawnee Commons.

As Eleanor Roosevelt once said

to Betty Ford...

"Hillary Clinton is great."

Now, if you all would
kindly look under your chairs,

you will find
a special surprise--

a flyer with details
about the project,

and... Friendship bands

that I've made
for each and every one of you.

So now,
I guess we're Park Pals.

You should see the booger
under this chair.

Andy.

It's nice
to see you again, Ann.

I was happy to get the call.

- Yeah, Pete, you look great.
- Aww.

So are you still
dunking basketballs?

You know, I'm a lot more

than just a former
high school basketball star.

I teach marketing over
at Pawnee Community College.

- Oh, that's great.
- Yeah.

Would you say
you value education?

I see what's going on here.

You want my sperm.

What?
What are you talking about?

When will women in this town
stop scheming to get my sperm?

Wow.

That son of a bitch is astute.

Okay, all I need to do is just
sh**t one more person down

and then I can buy some time

and convince Ann to wait
for her own Ben-level soul mate.

The last guy
is Howard Tuttleman.

I know that name.

How do I know that name?

I know it's a winter's morn,

but it feels
like a summer's eve,

'cause "the Douche"
is in the building.

What's up, ladies?

Oh, whoa!

Smells like some vomit
took a dump in here.

What happened?

We got food poisoning, Tom.

- Yuck.
- How do you not have food poisoning?

Because he didn't eat anything.

He just took pictures

and talked
about the "wow" factor.

Not true.
I ate everything you did.

Are you sure?

Is there anything
that you didn't eat?

Oh, yeah.

I didn't eat
those stupid mini-calzones.

Haver-food rule number six--

never eat anything with
a sauce I have to dip myself.

Drizzle it on for me.

I'm not your maid.

The calzones... betrayed me?

Never again, guys.

As God as my witness,

they're dead to me.

All right, well,
Tommy feels great.

And I'm about
to go eat some lasagna.

Peace!

I'm afraid this park
will raise my taxes.

Ah, well, fear not.

Between the normal Parks budget
and our corporate partners--

- I'm also afraid
the park will be noisy.

And full of spiders.

And dark at nighttime.

I'm scared of a lot of stuff.

Everything's fine.

I'm fine.
I'm Walter, and I'm fine.

Is this gonna be
a topless park?

I don't think there are
topless parks.

Well, let's build the first one

and be heroes.

If this is going to be
a topless park,

I won't sign your petition.

If she's going
to the topless park,

I'm not signing
the topless park petition.

You know, I take that back,
I'm still in.

What's up?
I'm Harris.

Yeah, yeah. Forget whatever
that Pawnee Commons is.

I'm with that pervert.

Topless park.
Topless park!

- Topless park!
- Topless park!

Where'd you go to school again?

Northwestern.
I studied semiotics.

Wrote a thesis on narrative
forms in the digital world.

Then you became
a morning shock-jock

and created
the sport "taint ball"?

Yeah. You know,
the Douche persona

is something I came up with
during college.

It started as satire,

and, you know, we snowballed
to where we are today.

I mean, I know it's a silly thing
to do, but it pays the bills.

Well, I think, you probably
need to get back to the studio,

play some fart jokes,
make fun of some immigrants.

Actually, a farting immigrant
segment would be really funny.

Ay dios...

Good looking out, Leslie.

You guys ever want
to do this again,

sans clothing, give me a shout.

- Gross.
- That was the Douche talking.

Honestly, good luck
on this project.

It sounds really interesting.

I'm gonna scan a quick pic
of them boobies

for a little deposit
in "El banco de spanko."

That was the Douche talking.

Douche nation.

You guys know
where the library is?

Wow.
Okay, that's not gonna work.

Back to the drawing board.

No need.
I choose Howard.

You want to have a baby
with the Douche?

His name's Howard Tuttleman,
Leslie.

And I know he plays
that obnoxious character

on the radio,
but he's a good guy,

his family is healthy,

and he is successful and smart.

Ann, you cannot be serious.

I am.
And I've made my decision.

- I am sure of it.
Okay.

Douche!
Hey, Douche!

Councilman Howser.

Councilwoman Knope.

'Sup, Leslie?

You wanna funk this junk
in the back of my trunk?

That was the Douche talking.

Okay, look, Ann is not
interviewing you for her blog.

She's thinking
about having a baby,

and she's considering you
as a possible donor.

Wow.

You know, I've thought a lot
about having kids.

It's the next big step

in this grand adventure
that we call life.

Frankly, I don't think you would
be the right man for the job.

Well, frankly,

I don't think
it's for you to decide.

You know, if we had
a little girl,

I would name her Elizabeth,
after my grandmother.

She was this strong,
amazing woman.

And if we had a boy,

I don't know,
I'd name him something funny,

like "d*ck" or "O. J."

Guess I have a lot to consider.

My God.

I have driven Ann right
into the belly of the Douche.

- Hey, what's up?
- Oh, nothing.

I was listening to the
radio on my way here,

and I heard something
very interesting.

So, Crazy Ira,

remember that chick Ann
I used to...

Yeah, she was smoking hot!

Turns out, she wants
to have my baby.

Anyway, her lesbo friend
tells me

she's on the prowl
for some baby beans...

And it's down to me
and some other turd-munchers.

Wow.
You should be angry.

I can't believe
Howard did that to you.

I can't believe
you did that to me.

I am making
a very important life decision,

and you betrayed me.

Because I thought
you were making a huge mistake.

Look, I get it.

I know you're frustrated
with dating,

and you think you're
not gonna meet someone,

but two years ago,
I didn't think

I would meet someone like Ben,
and I did.

My idea of a perfect family
does not require a soul mate.

I want a baby, that's it,
accept it.

Councilman Milton,
do we have a meeting?

Oh, no, no, no.

I just wanted to toss
my name into the ring,

in respect
to this Indian woman's vag*na.

Hey, how was the forum?

Um, crappy.

We only got four signatures.

Two of them were me and Andy,

and one of them
said "Farts McCool."

I just don't know how Leslie
can be Leslie all the time.

I was her for two hours
and I want to die.

Well, you know what?
We've got another forum today.

Let's just hop back
in that saddle.

What should I do?
Should I wear a blonde wig?

Oh, my God, yes.

- That would be so hot.
- Andy.

If you think--if you--
do you think it would help?

I mean, if you think
it'd help you.

Well, I'm feeling
so much better.

Almost no weird stuff snuck out
of my body last night.

And I feel like the emptiness
of my stomach

is gonna lead
to a pretty epic breakfast.

Guys, what do I do?

My choice almost k*lled us,

and we can't agree
on another one, so--

Maybe there's a catering company
in Snerling that we should look into.

No, it has to be from Pawnee.

I just know
that's what Leslie wants.

I got it.

This might sound crazy,

but Jean-Ralphio has started
a catering company.

He has?

Now, granted, he is currently

standing trial
for counterfeiting Euros,

but the trial's
gonna be over quick.

He's definitely guilty.

Ugh, forget it.

Dry toast
and half a grapefruit for Chris.

Thank you.

- Egg whites for Ben.
- Thank you.

Egg whites for Tom,

and pretty much
everything we make for Ron.

And don't you go sneaking off.

I'm sending home
some free waffles for Leslie.

Thanks, JJ.
You're the best.

Okay, we're back.

We, uh, got an update
on "Operation...

Baby Douche."

All right, special guest
is Councilwoman Leslie Knope.

- How are you, Les?
- "Me so horny."

That was not me.

That was
a farcical sound effect.

Did she say "fartsicle"?

The fartsicle.
Frozen farts you can eat.

Put it in your face-mouth!

It's cold and it smells.

God, how did you make that
so fast?

Anyway, look, I am here

because I want you to stop talking
about my friend's womb.

Sorry, Councilwoman.
I'm in it to win it.

The Douche is gonna be a daddy.

And Crazy Ira's gonna be
the creepy uncle.

Okay, all right.

Look, she is a wonderful person,
and she does not deserve this.

So I need you to lay off.

Okay, I will lay off

if you can survive one round
with Breasty Bertha in...

The Jell-o Pit!

Rudy! Get in the Jell-o.

Okay, I am a city councilwoman,

so I am not gonna
Jell-o wrestle.

I mean, this is fun.

Don't you want
your constituents to know

that you got a fun side?

Yeah, show your fun sides.

This is not about me
and my constituents!

This is about you talking
about my friend.

All right, I will stop talking
about your friend

if you get in that Jell-o
for one second

- and say, "Rudy."
Rudy.

- 'Cause The Cosby Show.
- Classic.

Classic.

Fine, I will stand there
for one second

and say it,
and then we're done.

- Fair's fair.
- Fair's fair.

Somebody get me a pudding pop.

Oh!

Yeah!

Rudy.

There, happy?

No, say it like Bill Cosby.

Rudy.

- I don't know.
- Yeah!

Oh, she's touching
her boobs now.

No, I'm not.
I'm just standing here.

And I am leaving, just like
you're gonna leave Ann alone.

Oh, she's in there!

She's into it now!

Oh, Rudy has fallen
into the Jell-o.

Theo, now there's Jell-o

all over my favorite sweater.

And the gold medal goes to Leslie Knope!

Okay, can you give me that bag?

I have to go change
into my Leslie suit.

You got it, babe.

Thanks.

Andy!

- What?
- This is the wrong bag.

What?

This bag is full
of Fruit Roll-Ups

and baseball cards.

I don't have my Leslie pantsuit

or my Leslie headband
or my Leslie notes.

I can't do this meeting
without my Leslie stuff.

- Honey, I am so sorry.
- Andy!

I guess I must have screwed up.

Look, you look amazing
in this outfit.

Plus you're the smartest person
on the planet.

I think you can do this
just being yourself.

Yeah, so how much money

is this whole Pawnee Commons
project gonna cost me?

Uh, good question.

40% will be coming
from our corporate partners,

- and another 30%--
- Excuse me, ma'am.

I didn't ask for a math lesson.

So why don't you just tell me
how much it's gonna cost me?

And don't use numbers.

Look, you won't have
to pay any extra money, okay?

And don't ever
call me "ma'am" again.

Thanks.
Next question.

Yeah, I wanted to talk more
about that topless park idea

that a local hero
brought up yesterday.

Yeah, there's not gonna be
a topless park, Harris.

Nobody wants
your creepy stoner eyes

staring at them while
they're enjoying a park, okay?

Stop being gross.

Yeah.

Shut me down!

You scare me,

and I gotta say,
I kinda dig that.

What's your deal?

She's married to me.

I heard you on the radio.

- Thanks for doing that.
- Got dicey.

But they did invite me
to participate

in their
topless Jell-o-lympics...

- Oh.
- So that's something.

It is possible
that you were right.

This is obviously
a huge decision,

and I should take my time.

I want you
to be happy, you know?

I-I guess I just didn't consider that you
would take a different path than I did.

I tried
to impose my dream on you,

and that's wrong.

And I'm sorry.

But I think you do need to take a little
bit more time with this decision.

Maybe employ
a more methodical approach.

One that involves
color-coded binders.

Is that a drawing

of my reproductive system
saying "Let's do this"?

The Knope way involves
a lot of uterine cartoons.

What can I tell you?

Besides,
what is more cuter-us

than your uterus?

- You ready, Ann?
- Yeah, I'm ready.

- We're in it now.
- Yes, we are.

Let's make a baby together.

You should phrase that
differently.

Right.

Are you sure you're cool
with JJ's Diner

catering what
you've referred to

as "The Wedding
of the Millennium"?

Are you kidding me?

I thought that I could not love
you any more than I already did.

But I was dead wrong.

- Is that smoke?
- Hmm?

- Hey! What are you doing?
- Celebrating.

We got 80 signatures
and, like, 30 complaints

of excessive rudeness,
but who cares?

Yeah, you should have
seen her, Leslie.

She was awesome.
So smart, so hot, so mean.

I wanted to bone her right there
in that dirty church basement.

No, what are you doing?

Uh, we are burning
this awful pantsuit.

That's mine.

I wanted that back.

Well, frankly,
you should have thought of that

before we b*rned it.