Original subtitles

-? Look up there ? -? What do you see? ?

? Nature and stuff ?

-? Like a rock ? -? And a tree ?

? Oh, the Great North ?

? Way up here, you can breathe the air ?

? Catch some fish ?

? Or gaze at a bear ?

? Wow ?

? Oh, the Great North ?

? Here we live, oh, oh ?

? Here we'll stay, oh, whoo ?

? From longest night to longest day ?

? In the Great North. ?

[cheering]

So, still masquerading as a lunch lady

at the kids' school, Dirtrude?

Yep. You still masquerading as a bargain-bin Brawny man?

I know that's supposed to be an insult,

but lumberjacks and affordable pantry items

are two of my favorite things, so, frankly, I'm beaming.

Aunt Dirt, as a feminist,

I love your enthusiasm about reentering the workforce.

But, typically, people apply for jobs.

Whereas you just stole a hairnet and an apron and started

showing up unannounced, hoping no one would notice.

I'm not giving those idiots a chance to reject me.

I dropped out of high school, and I'm sure it'd be

a real scandal if they found out

a lunch lady didn't have her diploma.

I think the larger scandal would be Principal Gibbons

finding out a stray adult has been coming

to the school every day and handling the children's food.

Eh, I'm a woman over 60. Unless I'm waving a pistol,

I'm invisible in most public settings.

Mm-hmm. When my Aunt Latisha turned 65,

she had to start wearing a bell around her neck

so people would stop walking into her.

Anyway, I'm not there to be seen.

I'm there to sanitize my Crocs in the dishwasher

and flirt with Gloria.

Ooh, who's Gloria?

Head lunch lady.

Dirt met her while we were at Val-U-Buy.

We both reached for the same barely expired

economy pack of pork chops.

Wow, that really puts the "meat" in "meet-cute."

I haven't landed the plane yet,

if you know what I mean, but now that I coincidentally

got a job where she works, it's just a matter of time.

The only problem with not being a real employee

is no key to the lunch lady lounge.

There's money for a lunch lady lounge? How?

Last year, they replaced our art history textbooks

with the kids coloring menus from Maude's.

Relax, narc, it's technically a storage closet,

but I know a make-out destination when I see one.

All right, let's get you kids and your elderly aunt to school.

How about you drop me off a block early?

I don't want Gloria to think I come with

the baggage of a family. Ugh.

Babe, do you think if we were in an alternate universe,

we'd still find each other because we're soulmates?

Oh, definitely.

And, Dad, do you think you and I

would also find each other because we're soulmates?

Like, as your father?

[whooping]

Whoa.

Noah Baumbach's backpack!

Did you see that?

Are you talking about the tattoo that guy had on his bicep?

I don't think SpongeBob is allowed to say that.

No, my dad said, "Whoa."

Causing Dad to say "whoa" is like getting

the Paul Hollywood handshake.

Or like seeing a humpback whale breach

the surface to get a Paul Hollywood handshake.

[sighs]

I wish I could get a "whoa" from Dad.

-You've never gotten one? -Nah.

I mean, I've come close a few times.

A "fine job" here,

a "put that down, it's on fire" there.

But if I got a "whoa," I could finally die happy.

Babe, you're 22.

Oh, God, you're right. Time is running out.

I better get busy whoa-in' or get busy dyin'.

Me? I'm less of a lunch lady

-and more of a lunch scoundrel. -[laughing]

Dirtrude, where have you been all my life?

Right here. Well, below here.

In a homemade nuclear bunker.

I'd, uh, love to show it to you sometime.

If I had a nickel for every gal who came

through here offering to show me her nuclear bunker.

I've learned to be a little discerning.

Boy, she keeps me guessing.

Uh-oh, Principal Gibbons.

Better get out of here before he connects any dots.

-Excuse me, ma'am! -[shouts]

Ugh, it's this loud one.

My name's Sandy, and my pizza's ice-cold!

I need a new slice.

-No, it's not and, no, you don't. -It's not cold?

It's not pizza.

The package it comes in is labeled "triangle meal."

Well, then my triangle meal's cold.

Now it is. You've been standing here

for five minutes arguing with me.

I wasn't arguing with you.

Sorry, yelling at me.

We didn't have pizza when I was in school, or triangles.

We just had squares!

They sent us out to fight the Germans

with just squares in our pockets.

[stammers] I'm so sorry.

I love my cold triangle meal. And thank you for your service.

Dirt Tobin, I'd like to see you in my office immediately.

Benny Hill's hemorrhoids. Looks like the jig is up.

So, you've been impersonating a lunch lady.

I've barely been doing the job part, if that helps.

Normally this would be a serious matter,

like when we found out all the smoke detectors

were decorative, but I looked up your file.

Since you never graduated, you're technically

still a student and permitted on school property.

All right, then. Deuces, dillweed.

Wait, I have a proposition for you.

I want you to coach the Lone Moose debate team.

I saw you obliterate Loud Sandy just now in the cafeteria

without using a single fact.

I truly believe, with your help, we can win

the 48th Annual 49th State Debate tournament

this weekend and finally beat my archnemesis.

Vengeance piques my interest.

Who is this nemesis?

Principal Gregg "Bowtie" Buttsworth.

He bullied me all through Principal School,

and now he coaches debate at a boarding school

for rich kids and their horses in Juneau.

They're undefeated.

-What's in it for me? -Hmm.

-Well, you like being a lunch lady, right? -Mm-hmm.

What if I made it an official position with all the perks?

-A weekly salary- -Including a key

to the lunch lady lounge in the storage closet?

-Sure. -You have yourself a deal.

Now get out of my office!

Yes, ma'am. Wait.

[chuckles] Oh, you're good.

Today you heard my opponent talk

about the dangers of fossil fuels.

I'd like to introduce my counterpoint,

in the form of interpretive dance.

[vocalizing]

[Gibbons] That's not allowed, Judy.

Oh, can I do magic for mine?

Guys, you have to argue the side you're assigned

with regular debating.

Why don't we go around and each say a topic

we'd like to argue about?

I'll start. I think most animals are pretty nice.

[overlapping agreements]

Clark Gable's gonads. You guys are terrible.

You made it. Team, meet our new head coach.

Aunt Dirt?

[gasps] Did you volunteer because you want

to spend more time with us?

[Dirt] Ha! You wish.

I brokered a back-end deal

that gets me closer to locking lips with Gloria.

-Nice work. -Hang on. Moon's on the team?

Well, that gives me something to work with.

Sadly no. Debate team is high schoolers only.

He's our water boy.

They ran out of sports teams to assign us to.

Okay, Dirt, I put together this binder

of rules and research- [screams]

Or maybe you'd rather see another practice debate?

Don't need to. This team couldn't argue their way

out of a bucket if it was knocked on its side.

I don't know what that means, but it hurts my feelings.

Good. Now, usually I'd start

by setting you up to fail a few times,

really break your spirits.

I promise you, our spirits are already broken.

Perfect. I'll skip ahead to the part

where I give you the secret weapon

to winning any argument:

double D's and a big ol' V.

Um, um, um, I'm not sure we need an illustration.

"D-eny, D-istract, V-ictimize."

Deny the facts, distract with useless information,

and if all else fails, victimize yourself until they apologize.

-Question. -Denied!

Competition is in four days, so from here on out,

I want you arguing with everyone.

And I'm not talking about people your own age.

I want you arguing with the adults you're afraid of:

your teachers.

-Won't we get in trouble? -Only if you lose.

So, get better or get detention.

I'm gonna get better. Which one are you guys gonna do?

Dad, you see this fish I caught? Make you want to say anything?

-Like wh... -What a nice one.

They've all been good.

Okay, then check this out.

[grunting]

[chuckles] Wow. I did not love that.

Dang it. Back to the whoa-ing board I go.

Good morning, debaters.

I hope you're well rested

and ready to be absolute nightmares.

Get in there

and make those underpaid public servants' lives hell.

[school bell ringing]

[Dirt] You can't lose an argument

if you haven't agreed to the facts.

-Deny. -Children, the bell rang.

-No, it didn't. -Yes, it did.

The school bell?

The one we've heard several times a day,

every day, for our entire school lives?

I think we'd remember hearing that.

Oh, uh, my mistake, I guess.

[Dirt] Next, distract.

-Three brownies, please. -One per kid.

Hey, did you know the word "dessert"

comes from the French verb "desservir,"

meaning "to clear the table."

Also, you may not think sugar is important,

but when sugar came to England in the 12th century-

Buh-buh-bup. Will you go away if I give you the whole tray?

Gloria, you got any plans for Saturday?

I could use a hot date for a high school debate tournament

in this very building.

A date, huh? You know I'm not big on labels.

That's where the expiration dates are.

So is that a no?

Let's call it a maybe, baby.

Make it a double!

This last technique is the hardest.

You've got to be willing to seem absolutely pathetic.

Victimize yourself.

May I go to the bathroom?

Ham, I've let you go twice already.

Are you forcing a teen to pee his pants?

This is bladder infringement.

My brother is a victim of forced urinization.

Let him pee, you sick bastard!

I will go to the school board

and say that Theodore Golovkin made me pee my pants and cry.

And then he danced down the stairs like the Joker.

Go.

Hmm.

Well, I had absolutely no faith in any of you,

but you look sharp in those blazers

and three of your teachers tried to resign this afternoon.

That trophy's as good as ours.

Imagine having a trophy in our case that didn't say,

"Sample, Please Return."

-Mm. -What do you mean "mm"?

So help me God, you better be choking.

We're definitely less bad, but I don't know if we can win.

Oh, no, we're not taking that mindset

to the debate tomorrow.

Gibbons, counterfeit some permission slips.

We've got an emergency field trip to take.

You want us to get in there?

No teen has ever gotten into Danky's.

Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah. Shut up. Stop it.

There's always a workaround. Figure it out.

I want you inside that bar in the next 15 minutes,

or I'm calling all your parents and ratting you out

-for trying to get into that bar. -Hey.

20 seconds already gone.

Okay, we can do this.

-How? -We could say I pooped my pants.

How would that help?

I don't know, but it already happened

and I need to put a positive spin on it.

Okay.

Aunt Dirt said there's always a workaround.

Let's think this through. We want to get inside.

But the bouncer wants us to stay outside. Why?

Because if there are drunk kids around a bar,

they lose their li... I think I've got it.

[kids moaning]

Uh, you guys can't come inside.

[slurring] Go in? Oh, we don't want to go in there.

We just want to stay out here where we're nice and visible.

[slurring] You going in there? This place is great.

-[belches] -D-Don't do that.

Do what? We're just a bunch of children

standing on a public sidewalk.

People are gonna think you were in the bar.

Gosh, if only there were somewhere

we could be totally out of sight.

Hmm, you know what?

Maybe I'll just call the police before someone else does.

Ugh. Just go inside.

And if anyone asks, you crawled through the roof.

By God, those little nerds are finally ready.

Great. Let's get them out of that bar.

And get me into that bar.

If I don't show up for the tournament in the morning,

check the dumpster in the back.

[Beef] Well, sorry I can't attend

the 48th Annual 49th State Debate tournament

because I flipped off the Whippleton mascot

at the 47th Annual 49th State Debate tournament.

Not a problem. I gave your ticket to Gloria days ago.

Clam before fam, you know?

Elegantly put.

Ugh, here comes Bowtie.

Gibby! You remember my son and our lead debater, Gregg Jr.

So nice to visit your little tax-funded school.

Dirt Tobin, Lone Moose's new head debate coach.

Love the bowtie.

I didn't even know they let humans

buy clothes at the ventriloquist's dummy store.

[laughs] Zing.

Oh, the elderly are such a treasure trove of knowledge.

Tell me, ma'am, how was your journey on the Mayflower?

It was incredible, bitch. I ate all the white guys.

Dad, please stop talking to the ghost.

We need to warm up.

You guys warm up, too.

Start by bothering that volunteer handing out

-parking passes. -Delmer?

You heard me. Make him cry.

All right, no more overthinking this.

I'm gonna get my "whoa" the exact same way that guy did.

By doing an absolutely perfect flip into the ocean,

even if I've never done one before in my entire life.

I believe in you, babe.

Okay, here I... go!

Okay, now. Wait. Now.

Look, it's not that hard. Watch me.

Whoa.

[whimpers, cries]

[Honeybee] I am so sorry.

I didn't mean to steal your "whoa."

Woe is me.

And, yeah, I'm talking about the bad kind of woe.

The bracket is now set. Good luck to all the teams.

War and Peace. Lie.

Charlotte's Web. Big lie.

If lying is wrong, we'd have nothing to read.

Lying is good. The end.

And in conclusion,

if women don't have reproductive rights,

why should bald eagles?

And in conclusion,

if bald eagles don't have reproductive rights,

why should women?

-Lone Moose. -Lone Moose.

Lone Moose.

And that is why texting while driving

should remain illegal.

Lone Moose, your rebuttal?

How could a text message ever be more distracting

than the beauty of Alaska?

Texting while driving is less dangerous

than just looking out your window

at the majesty of our beautiful state.

So texting while driving shouldn't just be legal,

it should be encouraged.

Uh, winner, Lone Moose.

Eh, don't feel great about that one.

A lot of people die.

Well, they can roll over in their freaking graves,

'cause we just made the finals.

Congratulations to our top two teams

competing in the finals:

Lone Moose High School

-and Juneau Horse Prep. -Hmm.

Teams will now select one member to face off-

Actually, that won't be necessary.

-Excuse me? -[laughs]

Our research team has discovered that Lone Moose

is in violation of the rule

stating that all coaches must be faculty members.

Ugh. Is this true, Principal Gibbons?

Ms. Tobin is not a school employee?

Well, technically no, but...

-She's just a stray adult. -[crowd gasps]

And furthermore, the rules state any debater

registered with Ms. Tobin as a coach is also disqualified.

[groans] I'm afraid he's right.

Juneau Horse Prep will take first place by default.

The awards ceremony will begin in 30 minutes,

or however long it takes me to finish today's Wordle.

[sighs] I don't suppose

they give trophies for being disqualified.

This is all my fault.

[groans] I guess Bowtie's been right all along.

I am a terrible principal.

I don't know.

I think if you'd been my principal back in the day,

I might have stuck around school a little longer.

-Really? -And not for nothing,

you dorks deserve that trophy.

And I deserve to brush chin hairs

with Gloria in an unventilated closet.

I guess some dreams are just too beautiful to live.

-[gasps] Aunt Dirt, no. -Ex-squeeze me?

I won't embrace that loser mindset

because you didn't teach us to be losers. We're winners.

And winners find workarounds.

"If players on a team have been disqualified,

there is an option to..." [gasps]

Judy, that's it! There is a workaround.

My God, I almost feel inspired.

And if any of you ever tell anyone I said that,

I will strangle you with my bolo tie.

Are you kidding me? The Wordle is "Daddy"?

That's too many D's. This stupid game!

[groans] God!

[sighs] Let's begin.

Congratulations to all the participants. In first place-

-[door opens] -[Gibbons] Wait!

We're back in! We're back in!

"In the event a player is disqualified,

"teams are permitted a one-time substitution

by any other student from the school."

Uh, nice try, but the student must be freshman year or higher.

Your mouse boy isn't old enough.

You know damn well I'm a bear.

And I'm not the substitute.

-She is. -Buckle up, Buttsworth.

He can't enroll a stray adult as a new student.

Can he, Daddy?

She's not a new student. She's an old student.

She never graduated, which means she's still enrolled,

and therefore eligible to compete.

-Mm-hmm. -They're right.

Substitution is approved.

-This is ridiculous. -Oh, no.

The final topic is privatization of national parks.

Juneau Horse Prep, you will argue against.

Lone Moose, in favor of.

Debate begins in one minute.

Dirt, please tell me you know something about this subject.

What subject? Once she said the word "privates,"

I started thinking about Gloria.

-Oh, boy, we're dead. -No, we're not.

We just need to find a final workaround.

I could punch him in the throat,

but I think that's against the rules.

Right, you can't break the rules,

but the audience...

Juneau will go first.

You have one minute, starting now.

Thank you, Judge. Since the dawn of time,

-people have gathered- -Louder.

-People have gathered together- -What did he say?

People have gathered the weather? How?

"Gathered together."

Since the dawn of time, people have gathered together-

You don't need to shout! Inside voice, please!

Gibbons, control your team.

The Lone Moose team is onstage.

We're just audience members.

Since the dawn of time-

Excuse me. Coming through.

Hey. Hey, he can't be up here.

I am permitted to deliver water

when required, without restriction.

[grunting]

[coughing]

-Father! -[exclaims]

Attention!

I have lost a contact lens!

Please stop looking at the stage and check the floor around you!

Since the dawn of time...

-Since the dawn of time! -[buzzer sounds]

And that's your time.

What? No. But-but that's not fair.

You can't let them do that.

There are actually no rules about audience behavior.

We have never needed them before.

Lone Moose, your time starts now.

[clears throat] If a team

with all the resources of Juneau Horse Prep

had a good argument, they would have made it.

So, I'd like to use their lack of argument

as their endorsement of my argument

and whatever side I was supposed to be on.

The end.

You have 40 more seconds.

No, thanks, I'm good.

Okay. Juneau Horse Prep, your rebuttal.

Our rebuttal for what?!

I can't rebut something that doesn't exist!

Oh, I'm sorry.

You think your opponent doesn't exist

because she's old? And female?

[gasps] And gay? Boo.

-Boo! -[crowd booing]

Shame on you!

Well, how would I know she was gay?

-How would you know she was old? -By looking at her.

Stop objectifying our women and stick to the facts.

You haven't said any facts!

Boo! He thinks women don't know facts.

[crowd booing]

[buzzer sounds]

Lone Moose, rebuttal?

Oh, uh, same as last time, Your Highness.

Huh. Okay. Well, I guess the debate has ended.

First, let me say this has been

an incredibly disappointing final round.

But since Juneau Horse Prep made no argument,

and really seems to have an issue with mature women,

I find myself compelled to award the title to Lone Moose.

[cheering]

[sighs] That old gay woman is amazing.

-Piece of cake. -Congrats, everybody.

Please accept this trophy,

and my promise that we will be doing

a thorough overhaul of the rules for next year.

We'll be back,

and we'll be back with a vengeance, Gibby.

It's Principal Gibbons, you bowtied bitch.

[groans]

[chuckling] Oh, my God.

I can't believe I said that.

You know, Dirt, you really had a big impact on us.

We actually got better.

And that was better than being worse.

Beautifully said, Ham.

Dirt, I can't thank you enough.

Would you like to say anything to the squad?

Lunch lady lounge key, please.

Wh... where are you going?

I got to go see a girl about a closet.

-How was it? Did you win? -Oh, we did.

But the real victory was

the lessons we learned along the way.

Like that it's okay to sort of cheat

if your opponent is snooty enough.

Fantastic. What's in the box?

Oh, I brought my celebration fireworks

for when we won- my best ones with just a touch of TNT in 'em

so you can strike 'em anywhere.

Oh, here, Moon, let me take those.

[stammering] Oh, no. Ice!

[fireworks whistling]

Whoa.

[gasps] I did it. I did it.

I got my "whoa."

[grunts]

[dance music playing]

Oh. Hello, Gloria.

Well, look what the cat dragged in.

Ha, I knew it.

? Guys and gals and all those in between ?

? Time to lock those lips ?

? Between rows of canned beans ?

? Friday night, gonna hit the club ?

? Called Lunch Lady Lounge ?

? Dress code is aprons off ?

? Baby, let that hairnet down ?

? Try not to fall in love ?

? Try not to break a hip ?

? 'Cause we only came to dance ?

? And eat tiny bags of chips ?

? It's lunch ladies only ?

? No teachers and no parents ?

? And the night is younger than a bag of baby carrots ?

? Lunch lady party ?

? It's the hottest club in town ?

? Come take your aprons off and let that hairnet down. ?

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