Your pal’s invited his sweetie out for a double date with you and your sweetie the other day…
‘Cause I want to see how she’d do in regular old conversation with my good buddies.
Define regular.
Well, alls we ever talks about is sex.
Tough life.
I’m figuring with you twos here, we could engage her in just some regular old conversation.
Oh, so, it’s regular you want.
Regular conversations.
Nothing fancy, just regular conversation.
“Regulier” as the French say.
Leave out anything quirky or clever. Just regular conversation.
“Regolare” as the Italians would say.
No patterns or devices included. Nothing creative during this regular conversation.
“Regelmessig” as the Norwegians would say.
You want to regulate.
Mount up.
In any event, I’m just really hoping the topic doesn’t turn to sex.
BOTH: ‘Kay.
(Door opening)
ELLEN: Hi, Daniel.
Hello.
I’m Wayne.
I’m Rosie.
I’m Ellen.
BOTH: Pleased to meet you.
ELLEN: Likewise.
Ellens, can I gets yous a beers?
Why don’t I get you a beer, Dan?
Oh, well, that would be lovely.
Wayne, Rosie, do you like beer?
Of Coors.
You Labatt your ass we do.
WAYNE: You know what? I haven’t seen Gail in a hot sec.
Maybe we could convince her to Moose-head on over.
She was whipping up some Carlsbergers last I checked.
Best Kronen-burgers in Letter-Heineken-ny.
Ellen, Dan told us you were a pretty gal, but you could be a Modelo.
Michel-low bones.
Gailer. You havin’ a lazy Mols-Sunday?
Yes, I suppose it Beck’s the question.
‘Lil tour of Tsing-town and country?
WAYNE: Wee bit of Carling-ering about?
Whatever’s Guinness-essary for a little R&R, you know?
Don’t need to Ams-tell me, Rosie.
Just takin’ it Dos Eq-easy.
Livin’ the Miller High Life.
I was booking my Pabst smear. ‘Cause Peroni-eedless to say, I don’t take this Bud Lightly, done so much toe-curlin’ this quarter, I’m pert’ near Strongbow-legged.
Better trim your Anheuser bush.
Ellen!
I’m light on bush, actually. I’m Busch Light.
Good. Makes it easier for the gyno to inspect your Stella Ar-twat.
Not the most ideal time for Alexander Queef’s, eh?
Hey, if you’ve got the Schlitz…
Fella told me one time, I had a scent that could only be described as Bohemian.
Once a Blue Moon, I also smell like the Pacifico.
Something straight out of Bavaria.
Not to Harp on it all day, but…
That’s the risk you take exploring this Old Speckled Hen.
It’s as if sometimes, I just bare no Sol.
You’ll see all the bad habits this lifestyle Foster’s.
Do they still make you Rolling Rock a piss into a cup?
They do. But careful… they can test your pee for Kok-an-E.
The Coro-nads on doctors these days.
GAIL: You know, doctors do the most Molson Dry-rips of anyone, right?
Still, I wouldn’t mind one between my Smith-wickets.
Anyhoo!
I like her.
Never takes long, does it?
Yeah, a wee bit of a mix of relief and disbelief they omitted one.
Red Stripes?
Yeah.
(Theme song playing)
♪
F*ckin’ I’m hungover.
Dary, you hungover?
I’m hungover.
Katy, hungover?
Yeah, I’m hungover.
Dan, hungover?
I’m hungsovers.
Hey, Rosie, you hungover?
I’m hungover.
F*ck, boys. We’re hungover.
I’ve got the skulls cramps.
Yeah, I’m knee walkin’.
Who’s cookin’, good lookin’?
Not me, chickpea.
What’re we s’posed do then?
Figure it out.
That’s what I said, said figure it out.
No one wants to cooks when they’re hungsovers.
You know what? I don’t want to cook ever. Consider how long it takes to cook versus how long it takes to eat. It’s like driving for an hour to the movie theatre to watch a five minute short film.
But dudes who can cook…
Oh, dudes who can cook can get it.
Like whos?
Wolfgang Puck.
Wolfgang F*ck.
Bobby Flay?
Bobby Lay.
David Changs?
David Bang.
Gordon Ramsay?
Gordon Rams-me.
F*cks with his hair too much.
Well, I guess it’s good that Gail started serving brunch at MoDean’s today.
Is she really?
You heard it here first.
But don’t you think brunch is a little bit, “Hmm”.
Oh, I 100 percent think brunch is a bit “Hmm”.
You could just as easily call it late breakfast and avoid the “Hmm”.
Yeah, the term “brunch” definitely what makes it a bit “Hmm”.
Well, since none of us feels like cooking and Gail does, why don’t we boot over to MoDean’s for some, “Hmm, brunch.”
Oh, f*ck, I’d boot over. Rosie, boot over?
I’ll boot over.
Dan, boot over?
I’ds boot overs.
Katy, boot over?
Yeah, I’d boot over.
Dary, boot over?
I’m surprised we’re not bootin’ over right now.
F*ck, boys. Let’s boot it.
Did you know that China’s having a shortage of ninjas?
Well, should we go?
REILLY: Wrong way, Coach.
Game starts in 15.
Yeah, and if you can’t carry your bag into the rink, you really shouldn’t be playing hockey.
Game’s cancelled.
Why?
There’s not enough bodies on the other team.
Why?
‘Cause it’s Sunday morning beer league hockey, you pheasant. I’m sorry.
What do we do then?
Guys… Guys, beer league hockey’s not about playing hockey. Sure, the Ws are really nice, but it’s more about having some beers with the boys, you know, before, during and after the game.Friendship. Comradery. You know, maybe like a nice autumn gourd cream ale or maybe a Danny Pinley friendly IPA? Just a hint of honey. Sayin’ all that, why don’t us three go for a beer right now?
Well, Sunday’s wide open, buddy. What’s the plan?
Better think of something, bro. Idle mind’s the devil’s playground.
Kids in sports stay off streets.
You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?
Sex?
BOTH: With girls!
Wheel, snipe, celly, boys.
Wheel, snipe, cell phones.
Wheel, snipe, sold me.
Stick taps and dating apps, ‘ferda.
How’s your swipe game, buddy?
Buddy, I’m swipin’ on all four cylinders. I’m legendary REM front man Michael Swipe. You?
I’m Rowdy Roddy Swiper.
Rippin’ tarps off puck pics on my Tinder.
Clutch.
Mandatory pic of fish you once caught for added depth.
Rippin’ dog pics and suited up snaps on my Bumble.
A dapper look, appealing to the “ladies have first choice” ordeal. Wise.
Rippin’ travel pictures and food pics on my Hinge, with one well thought out Office reference.
#DunderMif.
Waitlisted for Raya.
Over-Raya-ted.
I gotta say though, bro, I fear we’re fast approaching a world where we’ve smashed every smashable broad within 100 fiscal kilometres of Letterkenny.
Sometimes I match with a broad and I’m like, “I would smash that broad”, but then I cruise through her pics and realize I’ve already smashed her.
Tinder, Bumble, Hinge, all dry. Waitlisted for Raya.
Over-Raya-ted.
What do we do till we get on Over-Raya-ted?
Perhaps I can help.
Who are you?
Avi Goldstein. Aka Goldon Bombay.
Tight.
Aka The Gold & The Beautiful.
Sick.
Avenged SevenGold.
Nice to meet you.
We met last week.
Really?
Yeah, I was your line mate. Set you up for a double hattie. Don’t remember?
Respectfully, Goldzie, whenever I see wheels on a hockey bag, I just kinda forget about everything else after that.
Want my help or not?
Uh… All right, just try to focus, buddy. I’ll also try to focus.
Yes.
You ever heard of JSwipe?
REILLY: No.
It’s a dating app just for Jews.
JONESY: Are you Jewish?
Full Jew, buddy.
But… we’re not… We’re not Jewish. Right?
I don’t think so.
Doesn’t matter. You have the option to set your profile to “willing to convert”. Click that button, start smashing Jewish broads immediately.
Really?
Know how many Jewish broads I’ve smashed on there?
How many?
Four.
Just four?
Guess how many Jewish blowies, though.
How many blowies, though?
Two-sixty-five, 270.
Whoa. That’s like a blowie every single day of the year!
Yeah.
You guys are looking at me right now like you’ve never heard about Jewish girl blowies.
Sorry. I didn’t mean to.
Yeah, clueless is just kinda my resting face.
Growing up, Jewish girls go to sleep away summer camp every summer, where they practice giving blowies for like two months.
BOTH: Oh! You could get really good at blowies on a program of that kind.
You’d be Blowie Sevigny.
Or Blowie Deschanel.
David Blowie.
I feel like there’s a lot you guys don’t know about Jews. Allow me to give you your Jewdification, Jews Clues, bring you up to speed on Jewish broads and their people, so that you can better navigate JSwipe.
Call me Jew Ferrigno.
I’m Jew Barrymore.
Follow me.
Sick. Although, I gotta say, buddy, if you can’t carry your bag, you really shouldn’t be playing hockey.
JONESY: Yeah, it’d be really great if you could carry it the rest of the way.
Yeah, what good are the wheels then?
JONESY: You know what, bro? I’ll just do it.
AVI: Hype.
Did you know that Victoria’s Secret is having a shortage of models?
Should we go?
Who’s this coming down the rabbit hole?
They can come down my hole.
Cousint’…
Gail’s got the hangover hornies.
Ah, two guarantees on a hangover: hungry and horny.
As hell.
Hey, Bonnie, you want me to help you unbox that before this place fills up?
There’s so much for me to work with in that sentence, I may just fall over.
Yawn.
What ya gots theres, Bonnies?
A lotta eggs, a lotta meat.
Eats, meats, repeats.
Love meat.
Same.
Yawn.
I loves meats so much, I’d wears it.
Oh, like Lady Gaga at the 2010 MTV Video Music Awards?
Inspired by the Canadian artist Jana Sterbak.
Was she really?
I too might have an interest in wearing meat, although, it would have to be cooked or at the very least cured.
Slip into a pair of boxer beefs.
There’s only one cure for the hangover hornies, Gailer.
Let’s get hangover hammered.
Here we go now!
(Glasses clinking)
(Glasses clattering)
Alright, GOAL-stein!
Goldon Lightfoot.
Goldzie Hawn.
Goldzie Howe!
Goldza Meir.
First female Israeli Prime Minister…
Sick.
Tight.
Hype. Alright, but listen, LK’s already got a major shortage of Jewish broads. I’m talking single dijjies, and I’m pretty much the only full Jew in town, which puts me in a very advantageous position. One that doesn’t necessitate you two goys coming in and f*cking with my raysh.
Did you just call us gays?
Raysh?
“Goy” layman’s term for non-Jew and “raysh” as in ratio, as in I’ve got a hype ratio going, all right? I’ve been wheel-snipe-cellying like my Bar Mitzvah money hasn’t run out, and I am not coming down from this chair.
So, you’re like full Jew then, hey, bud?
Schnoz and all, boys.
So you can’t eat pig?
I crush mad bacon, boys.
But don’t Jews have to have sex like Mennonites do, where there’s a sheet between them and the girl they’re smashing?
I crush strictly non-sheet snap, boys. Don’t get that twisted. And also, do you guys really think that all Jews are exactly alike?
We’re here to learn, bro.
I know, and part of me still wants to protect that raysh, but there’s this little thing in my religion called a mitzvah, the act of doing a selfless good deed out of the kindness of one’s heart. You’re supposed to knock off as many of these as you can. You don’t necessarily actively pursue them, they just somewhat present themselves to you.
So, we’re your mitzvah boys?
Mitzvah men!
Class is in session.
Sick.
Tight.
Hype.
Did you know Ibiza is having a shortage of DJs?
Should we go?
(Sighing)
Stewart?
You know what that was?
A sigh.
T’was. When was it we last ate?
Um, must’ve been earlier tonight.
It’s tomorrow.
How can it be tomorrow if it’s today?
The today you’re thinking of was yesterday.
Today is yesterday?
(Sighs) What happened last night?
You don’t remember?
I recall an exclusive conclave of cartridge gaming.
Mario Kart 64, 150cc Acid Rainbow Road on repeat. Four hours. You were Peach.
She is so f*cking fine.
I was Toad.
Did we do Banjo Kazoomers?
No, no, no. We’ve still got the mushrooms.
So… what were we doing?
Chasing the double dragon.
(Train whistle blowing)
What we need, Roald… is sustenance.
I got Connor and Darien to load rips on a model train.
I mean actual food.
Well, Gail is hosting a post-breakfast pre-lunch over at MoDean’s.
(Scoffs) A brunch. A feast for the Peter Pan-ian affected plebs. The meagre populace. Roald?
Stewart.
Let’s brunch.
I’ll get our coats!
Wait! Let’s do a train rip first.
Choo-choo.
Starting to fill up.
Could fill me up.
Yawn.
Have a shot.
There must be four separate people in here wearing fedoras that I’ve never seen before.
That one’s a trilbys.
Y’know what? That’s why brunch is so “Hmm”.
Yup.
WAYNE: Like, there’s just something so f*ckin’ city about it.
Yeah. When have you ever heard somebody from town say, “Let’s do brunch.” Yeah, but you gotta make a buck.
You’re exempted, cousint’.
Yeah, like, town people don’t say brunch, just like town people don’t wear fedoras.
I know lots of town people who wear fedoras.
But do you care to?
I don’t have a problem with people that eat brunch. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying breakfast food slightly after lunch time. My problem is with people that brunch.
Yeah, it’s the people that want to make sure everyone else knows they’re doing brunch.
It’s like trying to make brunch a thing!
Feel ya. Ever been in the city on a Saturday or Sunday morning? There’s line-ups out the door for brunch.
I’m told that’s every day in Vancouver.
Could make a good buck making eggs for the people in line.
Yeah, but, see, the people in line wouldn’t want ’em because it’s not about the eggs for the people in line, it’s about brunch.
There is nothing cute about standing in line on a Sunday for six hours, drinking your alcoholic orange juice in aviators eating off a $30 artisanal cheese board, listening to gastro-house.
Atmospherica!
Restaurantica!
You’re spare parts, bud.
DARY: You’re overstock.
You’re clearance items on final sales.
You’re the marked down floor model that won’t even sell on Boxing Day, f*ck.
Um… ‘sup?
I am Matrix-style dodging your insults. And guess what? It worked. None of them hit me.
Stewart! (Groaning) Some of the ricochet got me. It’s gettin’ dark.
What happened to civility?!
ROALD: It’s gettin’ real dark, Stewart.
What happened to decency?!
I need mouth-to-mouth, Cap.
No man left behind!
DARY: Do you guys know there’s a shortage of rodeo clowns at the Calgary Stampede?
Stay with me Roald! Stay with me!
KATY: Maybe they should go.
All right, this’ll be as easy as 123, abc, aleph bet gimel dalet hay. How are ya now?
Good ‘n’ you? Good. Ready to f*ckin’ learn.
Huh?
Judaism 101.
Gonna give you boys The Rundown, the short, William Scott version ’cause I don’t have all day here. Rock with me?
All night.
First off, Judaism, a very minor religion, only about .2 percent of the world’s population are Jews, and just about over 40 percent of them live in Israel. Shout-out to the homeland. Although, small for a religion, Judaism is influential as f*ck.
Like Kanye?
Yeah like Kanye. Mad small, mad influential. So, right off the bat, let’s start with something you know. The Jewish bible is called the Torah. The Torah is what you know as the Old Testament. Same shit.
Same shit?
Same shit.
Kinda lazy, no?
No, mad hype. So, check it out. There’s this dude Abraham, and after going around, asks a bunch of other dudes with other names if they wanna be his chosen people, God lands on Abraham and is like, “Yo, “wanna be my chosen people or chosen guy?” Whatever.
Sick.
They strike up a deal and become boys. And in exchange for following God, Abraham will receive hype land that he will rule, as will his future generations to follow.
Is… rael.
That’s the guy.
Tight.
Fast forward a little bit, Abraham had two sons, one with his wife named Isaac, and then, also at some point, he smashes his slave has this other kid named Ishmael, who pretty much goes on to birth what we know today as Islam.
Wait, wait, wait. Hold up. So, Abraham had a wife?
Mm-hmm.
But he also… had sex with his hot slave?
Never said she was hot.
And then, his hot slave had a kid who f*cked off and started his own shit?
Yes.
That’s pretty baller.
Very baller shit.
It’s like Sopranos level baller.
(As Tony:) Christopher…
Gets even crazier. God’s like, “Yo, Abraham, I know you said you’d follow me and be my boy ‘n’ shit, but to further prove to me your loyalty, I need you to kill your son Isaac for me.”
Uh-uh.
No way.
For realsies, and just as he’s about to do it, God’s like, “No, my guy. Just f*cking with you. “Just wanted to see if you were gonna go through with it.”
Loyal as f*ck.
Cool. Cool, cool, cool.
Basically, Jews will always prevail.
How?
Well, we believe it’s ’cause we follow the simple rules: we worship only one God, we study the Torah to further understand His brilliance, we procreate and make new little baby Jews, and we do hella mitzvahs.
Mad mitzvahs.
Basically comes down to being good people, doing good things things out of the kindness of your hearts and not merely for your own benefit. Hence, me risking my raysh by welcoming you guys to JSwipe.
Aww. Thanks, buddy.
And furthermore, educating you on Judaism, so that you can flex knowledge on/impress Jewish broads.
Thanks, bro.
Got you. So… you’re honorary Jews now. When’s your first mitzvah?
(Hockey buzzer sounding)
Holy f*ck.
F*ck a duck.
This table’s seeing no shortage of f*cks.
Should we split?
I’d rock a nap…
‘Kay.
…ish.
Sex.
Sex.
BOTH: (Whispering) Sex, sex, sex…
Well… (Sighing) …I’d hate to dine and dash, but that’s precisely what we’ll do.
Wanna try and beat Super Mario 1, 2 and 3 on original NES?
(Scoffs) Those games don’t hold up. Our palates have been spoiled by the speed of modern gaming. Original Nintendo is just far too slow.
What if we add rips?
Well… only one way to find out.
Sex.
Sex?
Sex.
Sex?
Sex.
ROALD: Ya-hoo!
Well, I think there are three things that guarantee a good hangover: hunger, horny…
As hell.
…and hibernate.
Boy howdy.
You guys wanna watch Twisters?
Ooh, Helen Hunt.
Rest in power, Philip Seymour Hoffmans.
And Bill Paxton.
Is it on?
I figure like a baker’s dozen channels have it on loop 24 hours a day.
KATY: They do.
Prove it.
I like this brunch program. Finish mid-afternoon and close the business down siesta style for a few hours. Good luck with the hornies. Wait up!
Jim Dick-Skins. You, uh, hungover?
BOTH: (Whispering) Sex, sex, sex…
Sex.
REILLY: Guys…
Boys, minutes into honorary Jewhood, you’re already rippin’ hype mitvahs. Oh, good thinking, ’cause you hate wheels on bags for adults, but these little bagel bites, they kinda need them ’til they grow big enough to carry their own gear.
You’re never too young to carry your bag into the rink.
If you can’t carry your bag into the rink, you really shouldn’t be playing hockey.
Selfless acts, boys. What do you say we go smash some JSwipe?
You know, we really appreciate you risking your raysh for us.
JONESY: We’ll just give you a head start.
REILLY: Yeah.
Plenty to keep us busy right here.
Like what?
JONESY: Go to Mommy.
Sick.
Tight.
Hype.
♪ Wake up now, you’re gonna be late ♪
♪ No excuses, don’t delay ♪
♪ See your face and you can’t relate ♪
♪ On and on and on and on and ♪
♪ Step in line and take your place ♪
♪ Believe it or not, you like it this way ♪
♪ Peace and love, it’s good to be kind ♪
♪ On and on and on and on and on… ♪
(Singing echoing indistinctly)
♪
♪ See the person, see the hate ♪
♪ See it coming a mile away ♪
♪ Any time you can’t wait ♪
♪ On and on and on and on ♪
♪ Wake up now, you’re gonna be late ♪
♪ No excuses, don’t delay ♪
♪ See your face and you can’t relate ♪
♪ On and on and on and on and ♪
♪ Step in line and take your place ♪
♪ Believe it or not, you like it this way ♪
♪ Peace and love, it’s good to be kind ♪
♪ On and on and on and on… ♪
