Jeff: As we stand once again upon the deadline To drop or add classes, I hereby present this semester’s jeff winger pick For ultimate blow-off class: Beginner pottery.
Annie: I don’t know. Your last “blow-off” class ended up teaching me to live in the moment which I will always regret and never do again.
Jeff: This one’s different, I researched. You don’t even have to make a good pot. You get an art credit for participation. This class is like a redhead that drinks scotch and loves Die Hard. I suggest you all get her number.
Pierce: *Wearing a boating uniform* Ahoy! Guess which class I signed up for?
Jeff: Singing with Tenniel?
Pierce: Ho ho hey, sailing.
Abed: But the nearest body of water is two and a half hours away.
Pierce: Leagues, Abed. We don’t measure water by hours. It’s a one-week intensive that gives you hands on experience on a real boat, right here in the parking lot.
Britta: I’d rather win boats than pots.
Shirley: I was going to take a class on how to put together an online dating profile, but I think sailing in the parking is less pathetic.
Troy: A black person on a sailboat? I gotta see this, I’m in.
Pierce: How about you Abed, wanna sail with us? There’s black people.
Jeff: Let’s participate this thing.
Prof. Holly: Hello my precious blueberries! Hello. All right let’s spin those wheels and play, with some clay. *slams the clay* Now there’s one and only one rule in this class. I will tolerate no reenacting, whether it’s ironic or sincere, of the Patrick Swayze/Demi Moore pottery scene in Ghost. Ever since that movie was released in 1990, I have seen every conceivable variation of what I call “Ghosting.” This could be guy-on-girl, girl-on-guy, the hilarious guy-on-guy…*pretends to shoot himself in the head* So since it never stopped, I had to adopt a zero ghost tolerance policy. If you so much as hum three notes from that Righteous Brothers song, with God as my witness I will come at you! With everything I’ve got. OK? Let’s have a great time!
Abed: Jeff’s competitive side had come out before, he had even displayed envy, but on that first day of pottery class he discovered-
Jeff: What did we discuss?
Abed: No voice over I’m sorry. It is kind of a crutch.
Shirley: I’ve never been a captain before.
Pierce: I have, I commanded a jet ski through an electrical storm and only had one casualty.
Troy: Jet skis only hold two people.
Pierce: Exactly, I saved half the crew.
Annie: You’re not willing to admit he’s talented?
Jeff: No, because he’s not. I mean, if I were ever to make an effort in that class, You’d think I was the cat’s pajamas too.
Pierce: Cat’s pajamas? Okay, Pierce.
Britta: Wow, somebody’s mommy gave them way too much praise.
Jeff: Man, so did someone’s psych teacher.
Admiral Slaughter: Eyes on me for a moment, I don’t see students here, I see seamen. And I didn’t create them, from the moment you climbed aboard, I saw seamen inside of you. More importantly you’ve stopped giggling at the word “seamen.” And that’s the mark of a real seaman.
Troy: Damn, he’s ghost riding the jib.
Admiral Slaughter: That hat’s gone, lost at sea.
Troy: I might be able to reach it! It landed on that Hyundai. I mean, mermaid’s car.
Jeff: Oh, thank God, but I’ll have to get a second opinion from a guy in my basket weaving class.
Rich: Doc Potterywood, I like it!
Jeff: Have you taken many pottery classes?
Rich: No, this is my first.
Jeff: Of the year?
Jeff: No pottery at doctor’s school?
Rich: Medical school?
Jeff: Pottery school.
Rich: Pottery school?
Jeff: Oh, pottery school, how long?
Rich: You know, jeff, it’s kind of weird. I feel like I’m being interrogated, but by someone who doesn’t really want to know anything important.
Jeff: Guess where Rich is from?
Britta: Couldn’t have been crazy town, you’d have gone to high school together.
Jeff: Santa Fe, New Mexico. Nobody gets out of Santa Fe Without learning how to make a pot. Fifth highest native American population. They eat and breathe clay there.
Annie: I think some of this research May have been done on Wikipedia.
Jeff: You’re mocking me? You? No, no. Fine, fine, fine. Go ahead–mock me.
Abed: Oh, Jeff You’re Goldbluming.
Jeff: I’m Goldbluming? Heh, I, uh I-I-I don’t know what that means. Look, I have work to do, before class, Because I want to catch rich when he slips up.
Britta: Who even cares if he’s pretending to be a beginner?
Jeff: Pottery cares. Integrity cares. Look, I don’t care. I just care that he cares. It’s lame that he cares.
Shirley: That’s your excuse? Britta weighs five pounds, Troy can’t swim, And I’ve never even seen the ocean.
Troy: Uh, I can swim, racist.
Troy: I hope I get multiple personalities. I get lonely in long showers.
Troy: I’m trying as hard as I can, I have skinny arms for a quarterback.
Troy: What in God’s name have we done?
Jeff: I mean, take an intermediate class, if you’re intermediate. Don’t come in here making your fear of failure our problem. I mean, it’s crazy. It’s crazy. I mean, he’s a crazy person.
Annie: *whispering* I’m scared.
Abed: It’s okay, this is good for him. He’s confronting his own limitations.
Jeff: Busted! Fatal mistake, Richy boy. You. Are. Busted.
Jeff: You just used the “throwing off the hump” method. That’s an advanced pottery technique. Which I know, because last night I read the entire encyclopedia of pottery.
Prof. Holly: One rule I asked you to follow. One.
*He points to a poster of Patrick Swayze with a red “X” over it and Annie gasps*
Professor Holly: I had it made before he died. It’s not in bad taste.
Prof. Holly: Congratulations, you just failed a class so easy people passing in the hall get a contact credit!
Jeff: Pierce, do you still have the number Of that private investigator you used When you thought Ross Perot was sleeping with your mom?
Pierce: Jeffrey, when I was born, I got my umbilical cord wrapped around my neck, both arms, and one of my ankles. Mom said that there came a point When the doctors stopped delivering me And just started laughing. I mean, if I ever let being bad at something stop me, I wouldn’t even be here. That thing some men call failure, I call living. Breakfast. And I’m not leaving till I’ve cleaned out the buffet. Now, how ’bout a shove?
Jeff: Good luck, Pierce.
Pierce: Don’t need it. Never had it.
Britta: I mean, I feel bad for him, But things have been running smoother Since he drowned.
Troy: I bet he gets that all the time.
Troy: Oh my god, Pierce is going to be the only person ever to drown in a parking lot…Twice.
Pierce: Dear God! Dear God!
Rich’s Mom *voice over*: A clay ashtray. You’re an idiot. Why do you have time to make pottery? Couldn’t you use a little more practice being a doctor? Not that it’ll ever bring your brother back to life. It was supposed to be you on that roller coaster, Richard. It was supposed to be you!