How I Met Your Mother

So, this chick and I are going at it

behind the Central Park Zoo.

The Bonobo chimps start giving us a standing O,

and just when I'm about to give her the same thing...

What up?... I...

I can't.

I just... I can't.

Guys, I know you count the minutes until you can escape

from your humdrum lives by hearing how awesome mine is,

and I love doing that for you, but I just can't tonight.

- What's wrong? - I don't want to talk about it.

Okay. Hey, you guys see Deadliest Catch last night?

Did I ever!

Deadliest Catch ever!

All right, I'll tell you!

My mother is selling the house I grew up in.

All of my childhood memories gone, just like that!

That sucks.

I've been there, buddy.

What are you talking about?

Your mother still lives in the house you grew up in.

With her new hippie husband, Clint.

The comfort of home is a little ruined

when someone turns your old room

into what I'm pretty sure is a Tantric sex temple.

With all the bamboo, pot smoke and '60s music,

it's like my old G.I. Joes are frozen in

some weird Vietnam flashback.

Anyway, I need you guys to come out

to Staten Island on Saturday and help box everything up.

You expect us to spend a whole day

packing up your mom's house?

Of course not.

It's a two-day job.

Pass.

Same.

Unsubscribe.

You guys are adorable.

You seriously believe that I, Barney Stinson,

can't talk you into this?

I got the Queen to give me a fist bump.

No one believes that story.

You may be able to talk the brain surgeons

you pick up into doingwhatever you want,

but it's not gonna work on us.

How did he do that?

So there we were helping Barney pack up his childhood home.

Whoa, Ted, that thing you're packing is

way too big to fit in that box.

Yeah, that's what your mom said.

How dare you!

No, she actually said that.

Oh, dear, I thought I told you,

that's just not going to fit in there.

Someone order something tall, dark and awesome?

- James! - Bro!

- How you doing? - Hey!

- Oh, my goodness! - Mama.

Look at my two sons.

So big and strong and handsome.

Mom.

Stop.

And how is my delicious little grandson?

Oh, did he get the clothes I sent him?

Check it. Huh?

How cute is that, right?

When was the last time you saw a diaper poking out

of a Dolce and Gabana suit?

Tuesday at work.

Some of the senior partners are really getting up there.

So, Ted,

yesterday at work, I totally talked you up

to that super-hot makeup girl, Liz.

- Oh yeah? - Mm-hmm. - What did you say?

Oh, you know, how funny you are...

- Guilty. - Handsome.

Who, me?

Incredible lover.

- Really? - Oh, yeah.

Oh, yeah. I was all like,

"he knows a woman's body better than she knows her own,

endless waves of pleasure just cresting and breaking

for hours and hours..." Blah, blah, blah.

"Orgasms so intense that you just black out."

All that stuff.

Robin, how can I possibly live up to that review?

What? You know what you're doing down there.

Oh, Teddy Westside can bring it. We know this.

But that is not the point.

I mean, you broke the first rule

of setting people up: undersell.

It's like, if someone's never seen The Karate Kid,

you don't say, "it's the greatest movie ever."

You say, "uh, it's pretty good""

and then they see it, it blows their freakin' mind.

Because Cobra Kai sensei's all like, "sweep the leg!"

And Daniel-San's all like...

Maybe I did oversell you a bit.

Thank you guys so much for helping us out with this stuff.

Oh, it gives us

a rare insight into the makings of Barney Stinson.

Like, look at this.

Who was a cute little basketball player

before he became the biggest pervert in the world?

I loved Pee Wee basketball.

Well, until they kicked me off the team...

I was so awesome,

the coach asked me to quit

because it wasn't fair to the other kids.

That sounds plausible.

Hey. It's true.

Tell him, James.

Oh, yeah, he had, like, a four-foot vertical leap.

He would hit it from the outside,

hit it from the inside...

He sucked.

Coach cut him from the team,

and mom fed him that story so he'd feel better.

Oh, my God! Look at this.

My letter from the Postmaster General.

I still can't believe he took the time

to write this...

"Dear Barney..."

I sincerely apologize about losing all the invitations

you sent out to your eighth birthday party.

That's why none of your classmates showed up.

Not because you threw up

when they turned the lights off at the Planetarium.

No one even noticed that.

Also, Janey Masterson's mother is a whore,

and with gin on her breath at 10:00 in the morning,

she's got some nerve kicking us out of the carpool.

Love, Postmaster General.

Thank you.

Does your mom make stuff like that up a lot?

Constantly. I mean, she put more effort

into some lies than others.

Mom? Who's my dad?

All the other kids at school know who their dad is.

Who's mine?

Oh, I don't know...

That guy.

Did she tell you that Bob Barker was your dad, too?

No. No, no. I heard Flip Wilson,

Bill Cosby, James Earl Jones,

Meadowlark Lemon...

The list goes on.

I still can't get a straight answer about who my real dad is.

And Barney's no help.

He still believes every lie that my mom told us growing up.

Not me. I caught on early.

Careful!

Michael Jackson sent me this glove for my tenth...

Damn.

Loretta really lied a lot to her kids.

Well, she's not alone.

Whenever Marshall was acting too hyper,

his mom would suddenly decide he was "sick"

and give him cough medicine until he passed out.

I'm pretty sure

that's what stunted my growth.

I hit 6'4" in the fifth grade, and then I just stopped.

And then there's the most popular

parental lie in history.

Santa.

Yeah, but that's a good lie.

Like when we tell Ted he'll meet the right girl and settle down.

I always find that reassuring.

You will meet her, buddy.

- You think so? - Yeah!

Santa's still a lie, and I'm not lying to our kids.

Baby, it's Santa.

Don't you want our kids going to sleep

on Christmas Eve with their hearts full of hope,

their heads full of crazy cough syrup nightmares,

knowing that downstairs

Kris Kringle is stuffing their stockings full of joy

and stuffing his belly full of milk

and lutefisk that they left him?

Milk and lutefisk?

Santa doesn't get cookies in Minnesota?

Yeah, that's just what Santa needs at 3:00 A.M.

When he's battling a snowstorm over the Rockies:

A sugar crash. No. Santa needs protein.

I'm not lying to our kids.

Ah...

Valentines.

The second base of third grade.

I always got a Valentine from every single girl in my class.

Funny how all these girls have the exact same handwriting

as the Postmaster General, mom, and...

Home run king, Frank Aaron.

Yeah, school girls...

The more they ignore you, pretend to hate your guts,

lock you in the coatroom over winter break,

the more they secretly like you.

This isn't...

Who's Sam Gibbs?

No idea. Why?

Mom addressed this and never sent it.