- Hi. - Hi.
- What you doing? - Oh, just writing in my journal.
Like in Star Trek?
Captain's log, stardate 1978.
God, I'm so hot.
My beautiful red hair and giant jugs...
seem to... drive all life-forms wild.
Oh, my God, Eric. That's exactly what I was writing.
I'm gonna go make some popcorn and get some sodas.
My beautifully sculpted hindquarters...
flounce downstairs to...
procure nourishment.
- Shut up. - Okay.
Eric.
Yes, Donna's journal?
I am the book of secrets, Eric.
Don't you wanna know what she really thinks about you?
Read me. Read me.
You know, I really shouldn't.
Suit yourself.
But beware...
what you learn here cannot be unlearned.
Okay, do you want me to read you or not?
Sorry.
Eric and I went to second base tonight.
He was hilarious.
The prom is gonna be magical. I think tonight I'm finally gonna sleep with Eric.
Which is like Woodstock, but for vans.
Anyway, I think I'm finally gonna sleep with Eric.
I love him so much.
Tonight I'm finally gonna sleep with Eric.
Okay, let's just skip to the last page.
I had the weirdest dream about Eric last night.
He was Eric, but he was also Steven Tyler from Aerosmith...
and he looked really wicked and dangerous.
Yeah! Wicked and dangerous.
Which is so not Eric.
Sometimes I wish he were like that.
Quick! Put me down! Someone's coming!
Hi! Hello.
How are you? I didn't do anything. You look pretty.
Hey! Glad you're back. I missed you so.
- Did you read my journal? - What journal?
You know, my captain's log.
No. Oh! No.
I was just, uh...
I was, uh, going through your underwear drawer.
Yeah. I know. That's why I look so guilty.
Because I was, like, you know...
taking out your underwear and rubbing it against my skin.
I can't stay away from your underwear. That's my curse.
So, anyway, see you tomorrow.
Gong him. Gong him! Gong him!
Yes!
This isn't gonna work, Jackie.
What, Michael?
This isn't gonna work, Jackie.
- What? What isn't gonna work? - I'm sorry, but you and I...
- They're here! They're here! - What? What?
- Oh, my God! Michael, what'd you say? - Huh? I said, "What?"
My X-ray specs are here.
According to the ad in the Richie Rich comic...
with these, you can see through a lady's clothes.
Okay, Jackie, prepare to be ogled.
Swindled again.
Kitty, where's the Band-Aids?
I cut my thumb with a hacksaw.
Oh, Red, you know those things are dangerous.
Well, I tried cutting the metal pipe with a flower...
but it was real slow going.
Well, seeing as how you're being all snarky anyway...
may as well tell you, Pastor Dave is coming to dinner tonight.
Not tonight! There's a Packer Report on tonight.
They're doing a tribute to Vince Lombardi.
Red, you know I'm trying to get more involved with the church, so he is coming.
Kitty, if Pastor Dave comes over, we'll never get rid of him.
He'll just go on and on about how great God is.
Well, he is.
He said, "This isn't going to work, Jackie."
What if Michael secretly wants to break up?
I need to get him to sleep again.
What if his unconscious mind knows something his conscious mind doesn't?
Well, let's hope so.
At least he's not as boring as Eric.
We're not talking about Eric. We're talking about Kelso.
Untrustworthy, two-timing, sneaks-around- behind-your-back-and-reads-your-journal Kelso.
Okay, Donna, I'm sensing we're not talking about me and Michael anymore...
so... bye!
Ow! Don't pinch me, you lumberjack!
Jackie, I think Eric read my private journal.
Oh. Is this about the dream where you wished Eric was Steven Tyler?
Hey, do you know who I really love?
- Jesus. - Well, yes.
But I was going to say Vince Lombardi.
- You're a Packer man? - Are you kidding? I bleed cheese.
Well, I'm not sure, but I think there may be a Packer Report on tonight.
Red, I think you might be right.
I think it could start in eight and a half minutes.
Then what do you say we choke our dinners down, get our asses on the couch?
Amen!
Red, can you help me in the kitchen, please?
Right now, please?
Red, this night is not about football.
This night is about company.
And our company wants to watch the Packer Report.
He spends his life doing the Lord's work...
and if you would deny this holy little man...
that simple pleasure...
well, God have mercy on your soul.
Just can it, Red. Bring him his food.
You got six minutes.
I'm eating!
- Where is your Band-Aid? - Oh, I don't know. I had it on a second ago.
Must have come off while I was serving the...
Done!
Hey, Leo, thanks for letting us hang out here.
I just... I didn't want to see Donna after what she wrote.
Forman, no one cares.
That's true, man.
Listen, you guys know I don't allow alcohol in my house...
so you're just gonna have to drink sake instead.
"Sake" it to me, Leo.
Don't start with the sake jokes, Fez.
Oh, put a "sake" in it.
Well, this would be fun if I wasn't so miserable.
Look, Forman, we're happy to sit here...
and drink these tiny allegedly alcoholic drinks...
but we don't wanna hear you bitch about Donna all night.
Oh. Don't worry, Hyde. I don't feel like talking about Donna.
You see, the thing about Donna is...
Here we go.
She acts like everything's all cool, okay?
And then, all of a sudden...
I'm no Steven Tyler.
Oh, Eric, give it up, for heaven's "sake."
You're still the king, man.
Man, I thought we were past the phase where we had to impress each other.
You are.
Now you're in the she-dumps-you- for-a-biker-with-a-wicked-tattoo phase.
The most entertaining of all phases.
Oh, my God.
Oh, my God, Hyde! That's it!
A tattoo's dangerous!
There's a place next to the liquor store. I could go get one right now.
No way, man.
We're not gonna let you go to some sleazy tattoo parlor...
and spend money for something you'll regret for the rest of your life.
I'll tattoo you for free, man.
I'm pretty sure I used to do this for a living.
How cool am I?
A tattoo of my girlfriend's name.
How's that for dangerous?
Yeah, I think Debbie's really gonna like this.
Wait. Debbie? No. Donna.
Right.
Okay. No problem.
- I can fix it. - Fix what?
Relax. Debbie will never notice it.
It's Donna.
See, now you moved, man!
It's okay. I can make that into a flower.
Oh, you know what you should get? Boobs.
Big boobs on your butt.
That's classy.
Hey, I can turn the B's into boobs.
Wait. What B's?
Like in Debbie, your girlfriend?
It's Donna!
Oh, right.
Oh, I can fix that.
Hey. Jackie.
Hey, Michael. I'm really glad you're here.
Okay! Time to go to sleep!
Oh, sleep? Whoa! I thought we were gonna do it.
Michael, I invited you over for a sleepover...
not a do-it over.
Okay? I told you. We're gonna wait until we're ready.
So, uh, go to sleep.
No, Jackie, I'm not tired.
But, you know...
I always get tired right after.
Yeah, you don't have to tell me, Michael.
I know! We'll read out loud. Yeah!
I'll be Nancy Drew, and you could be her pudgy friend Bess.
Oh, damn it! I'm always Bess.
And then Bart Starr fakes a handoff to Anderson...
and finds Dowler in the end zone for the winning touchdown!
Wow, on TV it seemed confusing...
but with peanuts, it's all so clear.
- Can I see you in the kitchen for a minute, please? - Yeah, just one second.
You go ahead and set 'em up again, and I'll show you how the Packers won the Ice Bowl.
All right!
Okay, Red, don't you think it's time your little friend went home?
Kitty, I'm just being sociable, like you asked.
- Just being a good host. - Oh, sure.
All good hosts feed their guests Band-Aids.
Band-Aid, Kitty. Don't exaggerate.
Oh, my God!
Hospital, please.
"And Nancy Drew and Bess left the police station..."
"and went to celebrate the solving of the crime with hot fudge sundaes."
The end.
Wow.
Nancy's so smart.
Read another one.
Fine.
Okay, Nancy Drew and the Mysterious Charming Clock.
"And they celebrated the solving of the mystery of the clock...
with hot fudge sundaes."
The end.
Guess we solved the mystery of why Bess was so pudgy.
This isn't going to work, Jackie.
What isn't going to work?
I can't sleep with you staring at me.
Eric, how did you get so hot?
I got a tattoo.
Eric's perfect.
Oh, yeah. Ow.
Ow.
Oh, yeah.
So, are you telling me that you fed me a Band-Aid?
Well, um, to be honest...
Red fed you the Band-Aid.
How did this happen?
Red, why don't you diagram it for him with peanuts?
Look, Dave, I'm real sorry.
I didn't realize how sick a Band-Aid would make you.
Well, thank you for your belated honesty...
but the doctor said I had food poisoning from an undercooked sausage.
Food poisoning? That's Kitty's department.
I have never undercooked a sausage in my life.
I have a system. It's foolproof.
Hey, Kitty, it's okay.
We all make mistakes.
I...
Vince Lombardi is overrated. That's right. He is overrated.
Ignore her. She's hysterical.
This isn't going to work, Jackie.
Us, Michael? Are we not gonna work?
No. The car.
Jackie, the carburetor's busted.
This was all because of a stupid car?
We're gonna have to take the bus to our wedding.
Our wedding?
Oh, Michael. That is so sweet.
I love you, Michael Kelso.
I love you too, Jackie Onassis.
Eric, what the hell?
Did you just kick my door?
No.
But I got a surprise.
I got a tattoo. Guess where. On my butt.
Why?
Because I'm dangerous, lady.
Eric, I want you to be honest with me, and I promise I won't get mad.
Did you read my journal?
Um, yeah.
You sneaky little dill-hole!
No! You know who's sneaky?
People who go around writing their feelings in their journals...
and not telling their boyfriends what they feel.
So, you know what? I'm not sorry.
I'm so sorry.
You want to know how I feel? Fine. I'll tell you how I feel.
"Today at lunch I was looking at Eric when he didn't know it...
and I just couldn't believe how much I love him and how lucky I am to be with him."
- Why couldn't you read that page? - Because you came back.
Look, Donna...
Look, I'm really sorry, but, you know, it's just sometimes I get...
worried, you know?
Well, you know what? Suck it up.
Eric, these are my private thoughts, and I'm allowed to have them.
You have to stop trying to be what you think I want you to be...
and just, like, be yourself.
- Okay. I think I'm gonna go. - Well, wait.
Take off your pants.
Really? All right.
No. To show me your tattoo.
- I knew that. Yeah. I knew that. - Right. Yeah.
I think you're really gonna like it.
Just don't be mad if it says "Debbie."
Woodstock.
It says "Woodstock"?
No, it's a picture of Snoopy's friend Woodstock.
You have a little yellow bird on your ass.
If properly executed...
the power sweep is unstoppable.
Oh, Red, this is silly. I don't wanna run this play again.
Well, we're gonna run it until we get it right...
because, if properly executed...
the power sweep is unstoppable!
- Hut-one, hut-two. - Who wants cookies?
- Oh, absolutely. - Yeah.