In Dr. Jerome's office, Mike is running the ideas past Jerome. Sombrero...no. Dancers....no. Singers...no. Filet mignon....sure. A party clown dressed as a doctor...no, NO, NO!! Jerome loudly explains that he's a doctor and doesn't want sombreros, clowns, or singing donkeys at this event. He didn't become a doctor just to attend these asinine shindigs. He became a doctor to see half-naked middle-aged women in his office. That's what he's there for, dammit! Mike looks dejected, but then again, he always does when he's around the doctor.
Molly and Carol are walking down the street, and Carol's telling Molly that she thinks Ed asked her out on a date. She then babbles on about the intricacies of how Ed asked her...they were walking, and he stopped and asked her very formally if she would like to come. Carol changes her mind in mid-thought, which is a woman's prerogative, and says that he DIDN'T ask her out on a date, and she's insane to even think he did. Molly brings up the point that normally he would have invited all of his friends, but he's ONLY invited Carol...so maybe this is a date after all. Gotta love that Molls. She can point somebody in the direction of "Make-An-Ass-Of-Yourself-Ville" better than anyone else in town. Molly asks Carol if she wanted it to be a date, and Carol says she just wants to be sure on the clarification of whether it's a date or not.
Warren is in his house, doing his video journal. As he stares at himself in the video monitor, he goes over his most recent dilemma. With Donna on the left, and Jessica on the right, he's got one sweet girl and one hot, hot, hot girl to choose from for a prom date. He says there's no way that Jessica will go, but Ed says to ask her, and how can you argue with Ed when he's schlepping the schlong at Carol on a nightly basis. He knows he should probably ask Donna, being the safe bet and all...but Jessica is just so damned awesome. Plus Jessica wants him. Is he just supposed to let this go? Y'know...looking back...I used to have almost the same dilemma as Warren when I was in high school. Except my dilemma was which one to buy...the Playboy with the sweet girls or the Hustler with the horny slut-devils. So I kinda know how Warren feels except my penis might have been a bit more chafed than his.
Out in the court's hallways, Jerry Foley asks Ed how much longer they're going to have to wait for a verdict. Ed says he doesn't know, but it doesn't look good for Jerry's case. Veccio walks out and tosses a balled-up napkin into a wastebasket like he was Michael Jordan for Jerry's approval. Jerry tells him that he's met a lot of jerks in his life but Veccio takes the Nobel Jerk Prize, which your dear Uncle Bob has won three years in a row, thank you very much. Veccio wants to tell Jerry a story about a jerk he once knew, which sounds intriguing. It seems that about five years ago, Veccio was a caddy in a golf tournament and he was caddying for a guy who everyone says was going pro. Veccio does a bang-up job as a caddy the entire time and at the end of the 18 holes, the golfer stiffed Veccio on a tip. Now THAT guy was a jerk. Jerry stands there for a second, letting all the memories flow back to him. Veccio says, "You know...that jerk...he probably doesn't even remember me." Then as he walks away, he says smugly, "You da man." And Jerry realizes that all this was brought on by the fact that he didn't tip Veccio five years earlier at a tournament. Which just goes to show you...tip everybody that you come into contact with in daily life if you ever want to win a golf tournament. It's one of life's hard-earned lessons, kids.