Oh, man. Here's some crap fodder. Ted's new love interest can't just be sort of religious or sort of a good guy. He's got to be perfect and like a kitten. He's like a tiny kitten. If any guy fed me these lines I'd call him a liar to his face: "I was with the Peace Corps for a few years, but then I decided what I really wanted was to work with kids." "That's sweet!" Ted says, unable not to sound like a pedophile. New Fling says he loves being a teacher, and that it allows him time in the evenings to volunteer at the gay youth support line, to train for the AIDS Ride on the weekend, and to help out at the church. Oh, I forgot to mention: Ted and Gay Jesus are walking around the empty theater, picking up hymnals. I guess this guy's the only one who works there, because they're all alone. Ted says he's impressed. Gay Jesus chastises himself for talking too much about himself. He asks what Ted does for a living. I'm putting the TiVo into slow motion so I can tell you every silly second of the next blurb of images: two guys showering, one washing the other's back; shot of ass sex; shot of an ass, one hand near the left cheek; a hand pulling an ass in tighty-whities closer, the hard-on visible through the fabric; tongues touching; a rocket taking off; blue-gloved hands pulling sausage out of a machine, stroking it as it grows; a black-and-white hot dog getting pulled away from another mustard-soaked hot dog in a bun; a subway tunnel; a cartoon dog driving a red hot rod that's out of control; and a zeppelin. This is during jungle drums and animal noises. This show has become Adam Sandler's "That's Too Stupid For America" trash-can findings. Gay Jesus has to remind Ted that he was just having a conversation and suddenly stopped to have a cliché montage. Ted decides to say he works in computers. Only the first syllable of that word is correct. Gay Jesus persists, asking if Ted works in sales or programming. Ted says he runs his own dot-com company. Gay Jesus is impressed with Ted's entrepreneurial skills. Ted says he runs a company that deals with people's needs. "Relief work," he says, like a question. We are a sweat gland on Gay Jesus's cheek as he breathes, "Somehow, I knew you'd do something that involved helping others." We are the spit in the corner of Ted's mouth as he breathes a guilty laugh.
Liberty Diner. Brian feigns happiness for Ben's surprise party. Emmett asks Michael what they're going to do after the initial yelling of the word "surprise." Michael was thinking of cake, presents, and the song we sing poorly once a year. Emmett rolls his eyes. Brian asks about nudity and drugs. Michael drones that this isn't one of Brian's parties. No, but Ben does like a Brian party, don't forget. Michael reminds them that he's broke even if his boyfriend isn't, and he can't afford an elaborate party. Emmett says it doesn't take a million bucks to have a fab bash. He says they need a theme. He asks what Ben's into. "Yoga. Buddhism," Michael replies. Snoozeville. Brian says, "Oh, we can meditate! That sounds like fun." Emmett thinks; just as the cook rings the order-up bell, Emmett decides, "Why don't we do a Geisha/Sushi/Miss Saigon kind of thing? We can transform Ben's apartment into a Far Eastern phantasmagoria." Brian shakes his head and suggests a bottle of sake and a copy of the Kama Sutra. We all agree that it'd be a much better party that way. Emmett says he'll just plan the party instead. God forbid Michael do a day of real work in his life. Debbie butts in to find out what's going on that her son hasn't told her about so that she can start pouting, judging, and cursing. Brian tells her that it's Ben's birthday, and Michael's throwing a surprise party. I'm shocked she doesn't warn Michael against playing Pin the Tail on the Donkey because he might accidentally share a needle with Ben. Debbie just judges quietly and leaves. Michael bitches Brian out for telling her. Emmett suggests that Michael invite Debbie. Michael says he knows she wouldn't come anyway.