Lily says there's a train that can have them back to MacLaren's before 11:00. Barney says they should be there by 10, but Lily insists she must change first because she is not walking in there smelling like New Jersey. Okay, so I guess she'd much rather smell like the stereotypically rude New Yorker she's being in this episode. Stella hears this, and they totally deserve the wounded, offended look on her pretty face, because they're acting like a bunch of spoiled pre-schoolers. And she's way too good of a sport, because when Marshall tries to fake like they like it in Jersey, she does not put her feet up and let him pretend for the next three hours like I'd do. She gets that they'd rather hang out at a bar so she takes him to the coolest bar in Jersey -- her basement. Ted tries too hard to make it exciting, but the brat brigade doesn't even try to have fun. How old are these people? He points out the dart board, the half a Ping Pong table (which half -- Ping or Pong?) and the fish bowl. He suggests they drop in some Bac-Os and make the fish fight. "No thanks. I don't mess with fish bowls unless they contain my two favorite fish: the sucker fish and the blow fish." He turns to Ted for a fist bump, "What up!" but he's denied and good thing, because even the fish are looking for a place to wash off after that one. Marshall shoots him down too, saying, "You're better than that." Lily says it's not good enough and Barney's arm is still outstretched so he pleads with Stella. She dithers, because she's still new girlfriend, trying to fit in with old friends, but Ted shakes her off. Barney must be jealous of Robin's uneaten hamburger bit from last week, because he makes a desperate play to win this week's award for lamest ongoing joke. "I am not lowering this until someone gives me the respect of another person's knuckles tapping against mine in a light but decisive manner." He makes "Pretty pretty," noises at everyone, but still no dice. "Then know this, until it gets what it wants -- nay -- deserves, this fist will not yield," and he repeats that last bit more than I'm willing to type. I hope they appreciate Neil Patrick Harris, because the writers would not get away with half the things they throw at us if not for him.