Michael: So, what's going on with the fundraiser?
George Sr.: Well, I don't think the Home Builders Organization is gonna be supporting us.
Michael: Yeah, the HBO's not gonna want us. What do we do now?
George Sr.: Well, I think it's "Show Time." I think we have to have a show during dinner.
Narrator: So the speech was disturbing, the food was inedible, the service lousy especially after GOB found out he wasn't going to get any tips, and that old racist woman choked on Buster's thumb. All in all, it was one of the Bluth's better parties.
Tobias Fünke: So fill each one of these bags with some glitter, my photo resume, some candy, and a note.
Mae 'Maebe' Funke: [reading one of the notes] "I know where you live, ha ha!" Casting directors hate this!
Narrator: They really do.
Casting Director: [cut to casting director's office] The glitter queen struck again. Never hire Tobias Funke.
Tobias Fünke: Michael if I may take off my pants and pull my analrapist stocking over my head, I think George Michael may be suffering from what we in the soft-sciences call "Obsessive Compulsive Disorder", or the "The O.C. Disorder".
Michael: Don't call it that.
Michael: Well, um, I was going to say that you don't know who my father really is and that what has happened to us is a great injustice, that we were never really given a fair chance. But that's not the truth. We've been given plenty of chances. And maybe the Bluths just aren't worth saving, maybe we're not that likable, you know. We're very self-centered. And my father may be the worst of us. Me, too. You know, I seem to... I threaten people who I don't feel support me. He poisons them. Anyway, here's my advice to you. Go ahead and take yourself a goody bag and get out of here while you can.
Narrator: The speech was disturbing. The food inedible. And the gift bags, well, pretty frightening. And when GOB found out he wasn't going to get tipped...
Gob: Wait! No, no, where's everyone going!
Narrator: The service got worse.
Gob: Where's my money? I'll follow you to your cars!
Byron "Buster" Bluth: My thumb!
Narrator: Oh and that old racist woman choked on Buster's thumb. All in all, it was one of the Bluth's better parties.
Donnie Richter: We dont have grades here. A student either learns and gets an "L" or they fluctuate.
George Michael Bluth: What do we get for that?
Donnie Richter: An "F".
[Mr. F music plays]
Michael: You guys are identical twins?
Donnie Richter: Identical quintuplets.
Narrator: There was Andy, the show off, Jared the flirt, Donny the sensitive one, Rocky, Andy's stunt double, and then there was Emmitt, who asked that we not show his face, although composite photography tells us that he might look something like this.
Tobias Fünke: [about George Michael] He's a regular Freddie Wilson, that one.
Michael: I dont get that reference.
Lindsay Bluth Fünke: I dont either.
Tobias Fünke: I dont either.
Narrator: [shows a photo of a Village People group with the photo circled around the police officer] It's this guy.
Michael: Are you Andy?
Donnie Richter: No, I'm Emmitt.
Narrator: Michael was concerned. I mean think about it, we can't show Emmitt's face without blurring it.
Narrator: GOB had never made eye contact with his customer, that is, until this happened.
Lucille Bluth: I'll have the lobster tail.
George "Gob" Bluth II: And then maybe you could save a little tail for me.
[GOB realizes it's Lucille]
George "Gob" Bluth II: Oh COME ON!
Lucille Bluth: Ahhhhhhh!
Narrator: [after an old woman makes a racist comment] OK, we'll just tell you right now - she's the one who dies.
Narrator: Michael had asked Lindsay to do the housework, and to his surprise, she was sort of doing it.
Lindsay Funke: Hey, I found that canned ham that we've had forever, and I put it in a pot of boiling hot water, and guess what we're having?
Lindsay Funke: Hot ham water.
Narrator: George Michael did not have O.C.D., but in fact, he was afraid his Aunt Lindsay was going to burn the house down.
Michael: It's hard to believe that it's really come down to begging.
Narrator: Please tell your friends about this show.
Lucille Bluth: Hello? The caterers didn't show up. I used the club. They said we owe them too much money. I guess all those lunches... I've got 50 people coming in three hours and nothing to feed them. No one to serve it. We have to make a good impression or we're finished.
Narrator: Now that's a clear-cut situation with the promise of comedy. Tell your friends.