All language subtitles for Bobs.Burgers.S15E10.Advice.Things.Are.Ad-nice.1080p.DSNP.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H.264-NTb_track3_[eng]

Huh.

Tina, let's go.

It's called breakfast,
not break-slow.

Coming. Save me some
Chocolate Chippy Chomps.

Sorry I'm late.

I was dealing with
a little something on my butt

that I'm hoping is totally
normal for a teenage person.

It rhymes with "schmimple."

Dr. Richard Kimble?
Is The Fugitive on your butt?

No. Wait, what?

How is it empty?
Didn't we just get these?

Gene, how many bowls
did you have?

One. It was the most
amount of cereal

a person could fit in a bowl,
but it was just one.

Louise, how many bowls
did you have?

Uh, why are we counting?

Because I said, "Save me some."

"Save me some" means
you don't take a second bowl

before everyone's
had their first.

I couldn't stop myself.
They're just so chocolaty.

I don't understand how they're
legally allowed at breakfast.

Louise. Tina, do you want me
to make you an egg, honey?

Oh, yeah, I'd love a stupid egg.

- Tina.
- Sorry. Yes, please.

So, the Bounty of the Bay Parade
is coming up.

That'll be, um, well,
it'll be another parade.

This town loves a parade.

We're a real parade-y bunch.

Hey, doesn't your school
have a float this year?

Yup. Every year they pick
a different school,

and this year
it's Wagstaff's time to shine.

Oh, fun.

We're gonna vote on an
ambassador to ride on the float.

I'd only want to do it if
I could be the "ham-bassador."

- These hams.
- Mm.

Aah! How is your cereal
still so crunchy?!

What'd you say? It's hard
to hear you over the crunch.

Damn it.

Ugh.

You okay, Mr. Frond?

I heard you going "ugh."

- I'm fine.
- Okay, bye.

It's just this email
from Principal Spoors.

I guess he was bragging
to the superintendent

about our advice column
in the school newspaper,

Ask an Eighth Grader.

Our school newspaper
has an advice column?

Well, we did for a while,
but it wasn't very popular.

Maybe because, no offense,
kids don't know anything

- and give terrible advice.
- Okay.

And then, a few years ago, after
the student doing it graduated,

no one found a replacement and
the column just kind of fizzled.

Oh. Well, I should
get going, so--

But now Principal Spoors
wants to resurrect it

because the superintendent said
she was going to "check it out"

and Spoors doesn't want
to look like an idiot.

- All right. See you later.
- And Ms. Persky
is on maternity leave,

so somehow I got to handle
the paper while she's gone.

And that's on top
of having to get kids

to vote for
the parade ambassador.

Uh-huh. Take it easy.

Anyway, Tina, since you're here

and you're an eighth grader,
guess what.

You're the new
Ask an Eighth Grader.

Wait, what, me?

- Yeah, you're welcome.
- Okay.

Um, you really think
I'd be good at giving advice?

Tina, I really, really do...

not care either way. Congrats.

- Um, thanks?
- And you're supposed
to be anonymous,

so don't tell anyone.

Wow, this is, uh,
quite an honor, I--

All right, out you go.
Busy, busy.

- No time to talk.
- Uh, uh, okay, yeah.

- Hey, Teddy.
- Hi, Teddy.

Hi, Linda, Bob.
One Burger of the Day, please.

And, Bobby, can you not
take forever to make the burger,

like you sometimes do?

Uh, okay.

Ooh, he's in a mood.

I-I got to hurry over to help
the Order of the Pioneers

build their float
for the parade.

Ooh, the Order of the Pioneers.
Wait, who are they, again?

They're one of
the oldest fraternal societies

- in the country.
- Oh, did you join?

Join? No, no, no.

I mean, I'd love to be
a Pioneer, but...

you know those groups.
They're so hard to get into.

And they take up a lot of hours.

You spend a lot of hours here.

Yeah, exactly.

- Mm.
- What's the float gonna be?

The Pioneers
commissioned a sculpture

of a giant grouper fish made
out of trash found in the ocean.

Ooh, that's a fun thing
to do with trash.

We just throw ours away.

So, how are you helping them?

Well, I'm building their float
with some plywood,

and I'm gonna help them
mount the grouper onto it.

And I also said I could make the
grouper's eyes and mouth move

and make it blow bubbles.

Can you do all that?

I don't know!
I wanted to impress them.

It's gonna be fine.
Everything's online.

I'll just look up
"giant grouper statue,

make look alive for
fraternal order parade float."

- Perfect.
- Yep.

Attention, everyone.

Lunchtime announcements.
Quiet down.

- Peter, stop slurping.
- Huh?

Just another reminder:
many of you still need to vote

on which student will be
our parade ambassador.

All you got to do is write down
the name of a student

on one of these ballots.
Just write down a name.

It's that easy.

And everyone
better write my name.

Because I like
to stand on top of things

and look down at people.

And also the ambassador
gives a speech,

- and everyone loves
to hear me talk.
- What?

Another announcement:
Wagstaff is bringing back

the school paper's advice column
Ask an Eighth Grader.

Now you can anonymously ask
all of your burning questions

to a wise, old eighth grader

who themselves
will be anonymous.

And they are totally qualified
to answer them.

Not as qualified
as a guidance counselor

with years of experience,
but whatever.

Kind of cool about
Ask an Eighth Grader, huh?

- Is it?
- I wonder who it is.

- Are we this desperate
for small talk?
- I was talking to Gene.

I'm still mad at you,
Cereal Swiper.

Okay. Someone's still having
a lot of big feelings.

Hey, you mind closing that
Chippy Chomp hole for a second?

So, I'm gonna
tell you something,

but you can't tell anyone.

I'm Ask an Eighth Grader.

- What?!
- Shh.

- What?
- Yeah. I'm kind of excited.

These fingers
are gonna type the responses

that change people's lives.

I bet it'll be a welcome break
from chasing boogers all day.

I bet it will, Gene.
I bet it will.

♪ Ask an eighth grader,
ask an eighth grader ♪

♪ Won't you pretty, pretty
please ask an eighth grader? ♪

♪ Ask an eighth grader,
ask an eighth grader ♪

♪ Why won't anybody frickin'
ask an eighth grader? ♪

♪ Oh, won't you ask, ask, ask,
ask, ask, ask, ask, ask, ask ♪

♪ Ask, ask, ask
an eighth grader. ♪

Tina, come have dinner and stop
looking at your Ticky Toks.

It's been days, and
no one has submitted a question

to Ask an Eighth Grader.
Also, Mom, Dad,

remember, you can't tell anyone
my secret identity.

We know. We heard you the many,
many times you've said that.

- Anyone.
- We promise.

I just feel like
I could really help people

if I had the chance, you know?

Aw, Tina.
I'll ask you a question.

Should your dad
finally wash his shirt,

or should he
just keep wearing it

even though
it's covered in stains?

- What? Oh, my God.
- It's like a baby's bib.

An exploding baby.

You should wash it, Dad.

And that's advice
from a professional.

Good night, Louise.

What have you got under there?

Oh, just...
my little growing body.

Okay. Well, good night.

- Good night.
- Aha.

What are you doing
with the laptop?

And is that Tina's journal?

I was submitting a question

to Ask an Eighth Grader

so Tina would have at least
one measly letter to answer.

I was kinda hoping
it would make up

for the Chippy Chomps incident.

Oof, the Chippy Chomps incident.

But why Tina's journal?

I needed material.

I'm a youthful,
innocent nine-year-old.

I don't have any
weird puberty drama yet.

But this thing is full of it.

I mean, we should donate this to
the Smithsonian to be studied.

Well, let's see
what you got so far.

"Hi, I'm a teenaged person and
I'm pubing all over the place

"like the ding-dong
puberty bell.

"I've got butt zits, boob hairs,

"so much sweat
in my undercarriage area,

and maybe a little mustache
depending on what light I'm in."

Okay, wow, this needs
a little finesse.

What do you mean?
It seems great to me.

No, move over. I'm coming up.

Come on, scooch, scooch.

I'm trying. I didn't know
grown-ups could climb up here.

Yeah, grown-ups
can come up here.

I'm the one who changes
the sheets on this bed.

It's the hardest thing I do

every two to three
to four weeks.

So, you got to make this kid
seem like a real person.

Like this. "I'm feeling...

a little insecure...
about some stuff."

Oh. Wow, that's good.

Lot of typos, but that's okay,
we'll fix those later.

- Shh.
- Sorry.

Morning, everyone.
I'm just gonna check

the Ask an Eighth Grader inbox

- and see that it's still empty.
- That's the spirit.

Oh. Oh, my God, I got a letter.

- Oh, wow.
- Huh.

"Butt acne...
boob hairs... puberty..."

It's from someone named
Miss Am I Normal.

Is there a Mr. Am I Normal?

Wow, I feel like
I really get this person.

I mean, they wrote about stuff
that's kind of, uh,

right up my alley.

Ooh, what a great letter.

I-I mean, I didn't read it,
but I'm sure it's great.

Lin, you okay?

She's happy for Tina.
Show some support, Dad.

Yeah, Dad. Offer up a high five
for once in your life.

- Okay, okay.
- Damn straight.

Ow.

I think that should do it.
I'm gonna turn it on.

Ooh, bubbles.

- Look at 'em.
- Pretty.

This thing works great.

Uh, why do you need
to do that in here, again?

I have to test it.
For the float.

Bubbles are gonna come out
of the fish's mouth.

No, I know, but why do you
need to do it here?

Because I-I needed
a second opinion.

Can you picture these
coming out of a fish's mouth?

- Yes.
- Are you saying that because
you want me to turn it off?

- Yes.
- Now or--?

- Uh-huh. Yup.
- 'Cause we could also keep it on

and see how long it takes
before it runs out of bubbles.

- No.
- Sure.

- Great.
- Excuse me.

The bubbles are popping
on my food.

- Teddy.
- Fine.

Thank you.

Hey, hi, hello there.

Tammy for Parade Ambassador.

Cast your vote and put
this Tammy on a float.

She's so totally floaty.

Tammy definitely puts
the "ass" in ambassador.

Hey, J-Ju, did you see
Ask an Eighth Grader

in the school paper
this morning?

You read the school paper, Zeke?

Fart yeah. I like to keep up
with current events.

There was this letter
from somebody called

Miss Am I Normal,
and it was like, oh, my God,

this kid just
put it all out there.

So honest, so raw.

And, look,

Ask an Eighth Grader had
a spot-on reply, too.

- Check it out.
- You think?

I-I mean, what-what was it?

"I want you to know
that you're not alone,

and I'm 100% sure..."

...that someone out there
has the same problems

and the same questions.

And remember, your body
is like a free sample

at Fro-Yo-Momma.
You only get one,

so you might as well enjoy it.

I read it, like, four times.

I put it up in my locker.

Tina, your column's the belle
of the butt zit ball.

Shh. But yeah.

Nothing.
Don't worry about it, Peter.

- Just keep slurping your soup.
- Huh?

Not that I want Miss Am I Normal
to have a lot more problems,

but I hope she writes in again.

And I hope she has
a lot more problems.

How many more of these
do we have to write?

I don't know, but less talking,
more typing.

All right, all right,
pass me the journal.

Oof, look at this one.
God bless her.

♪ Whoo! ♪

♪ Anonymous advice,
anonymous advice ♪

- ♪ Butt zits ♪
- ♪ Anonymous ♪

- ♪ Boob hair ♪
- ♪ Anonymous ♪

- ♪ Undercarriage ♪
- ♪ Anonymous ♪

♪ Anonymous advice,
anonymous advice. ♪

Hey, Teddy.

Haven't seen you in a few days.

Yeah, I've been working
on the float nonstop.

I'm having a hard time getting

the grouper's eyes
to move around.

And the mouth to open and close.

And the bubbles to come out
of the mouth.

So, everything
you said you'd do.

Gah! This fish is making
a fool of me!

Aw. Hey, kids, how was school?

Great. Miss Am I Normal is kind
of all anyone can talk about.

- Wow.
- Yup.

Everyone wants to know
who she is.

- Oh, they do?
- And who she's wearing.

- Who's Miss Am I Normal?
- She's someone who submitted

to our school newspaper's
advice column,

and I can't tell you
who writes the advice

in the advice column because
it's a really big secret.

Okay. Is it you?

Yes. Please don't tell anyone.

- I won't. Can I tell Mort?
- Sure.

So, yeah, everyone
is trying to figure out

who Miss Am I Normal is.
Isn't that fun?

But, uh, it's anonymous, right?

There's no way they can ever
find out, right, Tina? Right?

I guess, but kids
are really determined.

They made betting pools
about it.

Someone made T-shirts.
One kid started a podcast.

Sponsored by Squarespace.

"Signed, Miss Am I Normal."

- Good?
- Good.

Good.

"Thank you for giving me
such wise advice.

"You solved all my problems.
So, goodbye forever.

"But please don't try
to figure out who I am

"because it's
not that interesting.

You'll find out and be like,
'Snoozeville, never mind.'"

Man, Miss Am I Normal's worried
she's gonna be a disappointment.

- I feel that.
- Now I want to know
who she is even more.

It's a delicious mystery.

- Damn it.
- How was the reply
from Ask an Eighth Grader?

- Just curious.
- It was great. They wrote,

"I don't know about Snoozeville,

"but I've enjoyed
my trip to Youzville.

"And I hope you enjoy
Youzville, as well.

"I won't try to figure out
who you are

"as long as you don't try
to figure out who I am.

Wink, wink.
We're anony-buddies."

Aw, man, I'm gonna miss
that correspondence.

- Me, too.
- Attention.

I have a very
important announcement.

Through sheer grit and nagging,
I got most of you to vote,

and all the ballots
have been counted

by the political science club...

who also gave me guff...

and we have a winner
for the parade ambassadorship.

And the winner is...

Miss Am I Normal. Really?

Oh, my God.

Hell yeah. I voted for her.

Mostly 'cause I wanted
to find out who she is.

- I admire her so much.
- She's got to come forward now.

I'm kinda excited to see
who I've been talking to.

Ugh. Tina, I have
to tell you something.

There is no Miss Am I Normal.

Not yet. She must be too nervous
to reveal herself.

No, I mean Mom and I
wrote those letters.

- Wait, what?
- My mom? Linda Belcher?

Hi, everyone. Um...

It's me. I am Miss Am I Normal.

- What?
- Yeah, what?

Tammy's Miss Am I Normal?

What the heck-a-do, what, huh?

You're telling me
that you and Mom

wrote the letters and that
there's no Miss Am I Normal?

- Yeah...
- So y-you just
made all that stuff up?

No, we... took stuff
from your journal.

- Oh.
- What?!

Well, no one was writing in.

- Ugh. So Tammy's lying?
- Yes.

I mean, is that surprising?

- This is unbelievable.
- I'm really sorry.

Ugh!

She'll get over it.

- Ah!
- See?

I can't believe it's you, girl.

Man, my brain's going
like doi-oi-oi-oi-oing.

Yeah, I never would've
guessed it was you, Tammy.

Not in a zillion years.

Yeah, I didn't want to say
anything, but then,

when I got voted ambassador,
I felt like I had to, you know?

Tammy, why didn't you tell me
you were Miss Am I Normal?

I thought we told each other
everything.

Jocelyn, this was, like,
so deeply personal.

Listen, you're still
my best friend,

even though now
all of these people

- also want to be my best friend.
- Okay.

Ow. Stop pushing me.

Bob's Burgers.

- Bob.
- Uh, hey, Teddy.

- It's Teddy.
- Yup.

I can't talk long.

Okay. Well, uh, that's fine.

I'm in the bathroom
at the Pioneers' Lodge.

- Oh... okay.
- The lodge is incredible, Bob.

It's everything you imagined
and more.

Well, I've never imagined
it at all, Teddy.

There's a bar and a pool table,
books and rugs.

I had a couple of beers.
They were so cold.

But, Teddy, I thought
you couldn't talk long.

It's just this grouper float.

I can't tell you
how much I want it to work.

The Pioneers
are excited about it, too.

That's why they invited me over.

I hate to say
I also can't talk long,

but I feel like one of us should

put more pressure
on this conversation.

I told them
the grouper's coming along,

but it's got issues, Bob.

I may have bit off
more than I can chew.

This grouper's a mess.

I'm sure it will be fine, Teddy.

Oh, God, I want to be
a Pioneer so bad.

The paneling in here, Bob.
Real wood.

- Okay, I'm gonna hang up now.
- All right.

I'll call you in ten minutes
from the--

- Tammy?
- Tina, no, I can't
talk right now.

I have to pick up my
ambassador sash from the office

and then I've got an interview
on some kid's podcast.

He wants me to wear the sash
for the podcast.

And you won't be able to see it,
but I can swish it around.

You're not Miss Am I Normal.

How do you know that?

I mean, how dare you?

Yes, I am Miss Am I Normal.

I know you're not, because
I'm Ask an Eighth Grader.

Miss Am I Normal's
my mom and my sister.

They wrote the letters
without telling me

because no one was writing
into Ask an Eighth Grader

- and they felt bad for me.
- Um...

Tina, you can't tell anyone

Miss Am I Normal
was your mom and sister.

- Why not? Yes, I can.
- No, you can't.

And not just because
it's so embarrassing for you.

But because if people find out

that Miss Am I Normal
isn't even real,

they're gonna be
super mad and duper sad.

- But--
- So don't tell anyone
that I'm not Miss Am I Normal,

and I won't tell anyone
about your sneaky mom

and your liar sister.
Got it? Good.

Good talk. Okay.

Oh, wow.
Aw, thank you so much for that.

Wow. So much support.
Thank you. Thank you.

This is your moment, pal.

Let there be life!

Ha-ha!

Wow.

No. No, no.

No, no, no, no, no, no!

Hello. Hi.
Beautiful day for a parade.

Everything's going
great with this guy.

Ooh, Tina, octopus.

Look at the suckers
on that sucker.

You're still not talking
to me, huh?

No. Not you or Louise.

Except to tell you
I'm not talking to you.

And I'm done.
Back to not talking.

Yup, yup.

Oh, God.
She's still so mad at us.

Us? I'm not part of this, Lin.

I was always against
everything you were doing.

And I'm really glad
to be exactly right.

Well, I'm still
going to enjoy the parade.

Right. If it ends soon.

Because we got to open
the restaurant

- and work there.
- Nerd.

Give it up for the Women 65
and Older Community Brass Band.

Also known
as the Brassy Biddies.

That's my mom on sousaphone.

Play that funky music, Mom.

And here comes
the Wagstaff School float,

which appears to be
a whaling ship.

So cute, so frowned upon
in modern times.

And riding on top is
Parade Ambassador Tammy Larson.

Tammy also goes by the name
of Miss Am I Normal.

Apparently, she wrote
into the school newspaper

with a whole bunch of intense,
puberty-related issues

- and now she's here.
- Ugh.

- Yay.
- Hi. Hello.

So, Tammy, people really
responded to your letters.

Your refreshing honesty about...

your acne and...
hairs everywhere.

Um, a lot of interesting stuff
is why you

are Wagstaff School
Parade Ambassador.

Well, yeah, yeah, yeah.

So, yes.

But just to set
the record straight,

I don't have acne.
Uh, definitely not on my butt.

Uh, that's gross.

I don't have
any of that gross stuff.

And it turns out
my mirror was weird.

And I got a new one.

Uh, so, yeah,
I am Miss Am I Normal,

but I'm, like,
Miss Totally Normal.

And... okay? Um, better.

Better than normal.
Better than normal.

- Huh?
- What the...?

- Did she say acne is gross?
- Yeah.

All that vulnerability
was nothing?

I guess I'm ashamed
of my body again.

No, Zeke, it's good.

Oh, no.

Anyway... [clears throat] Hello.

I am your parade ambassador.

Future entrepreneur/model/
producer Tammy Larson.

Who wants to see my
hands-in-pocket? Here it is.

Who wants to see my peace sign,
tongue out? Nyah.

And sassy hip pop.
Head tilt. Elegant hand.

Uh-huh, okay.

No, hold on,
ten more poses at least.

This is the
Whose Monkey Is This? Ooh.

- Mm? This is the... ooh!
- Oh, God. Everyone's sad.

I got to do something.

Uh, excuse me. Sorry. Excuse me.

So, in conclusion,
best parade ever.

Best ambassador ever.

- I don't have zits on my butt.
- Uh...

- Um, hi.
- Oh.

- I'm Tina. Belcher.
- Tina.

What are you doing?

Um, I'm about to breach
all sorts of security

by revealing
this confidential information,

but, um,
I'm Ask an Eighth Grader.

I had no idea.

Tina's Ask an Eighth Grader?

Dang. Layers and layers
to that girl.

What's going on?
Did I miss the Brassy Biddies?

Anyway, uh, I wanted to say
there is no Miss Am I Normal.

What? What?!

The letters were fake.

Oh, my God.

I know.
I mean, the letters were fake,

but the problems are real.
Like, very, very real.

I don't want to get graphic,
but trust me.

But hopefully they made us all
feel less alone and less gross?

- It was all fake?
- What?

- The letters were fake?
- That's crazy.
- The letters were fake?

I told everyone Ask an Eighth
Grader was a bad idea.

Uh, I didn't know.
I thought I...

- I-I thought that...
- Oh, God.

I just wanted to help.
I-I swear.

Hey, guys, don't blame Tina.

I'm Miss Am I Normal.

Me, too. I'm Miss Am I Normal.

I'm Miss Am I Normal.

- Wait, what?
- I'm Miss Am I Normal, too.

Okay.

- I'm Miss Am I Normal!
- I'm Miss Am I Normal.

- I'm Miss Am I Normal.
- I'm Miss Am I Normal.

I'm Miss Am I Normal.

I'm Miss Am I Normal.

Why is everybody saying that?

I'm Miss Am I Normal, too.

No, you're not.
You're definitely not.

And I'm Miss Let's Keep
This Parade Going.

Up next we've got the float

from the local chapter
of the Order of Pioneers.

Looks like...
some kind of wacky fish

made out of trash.

Oh, it's Teddy's float.
It looks great.

Is Teddy inside the fish?

Oh, my God, I think he is.

I don't think that
was his plan, was it?

Did it eat him?

Hey, Teddy. If you're all right,
give us a wink.

He's fine.

Tina, I'm so proud of you.

You made a lot of kids
feel better about themselves.

And I really am sorry.

- Mom isn't, but I am.
- Hey.

But also, maybe take some of
that teen stuff advice yourself

because it turns out you were
pretty good at giving it.

So you're welcome
for that big revelation.

I accept your apology
that turned into

- patting yourself on the back.
- Oh, good.

When's the next parade, right?

Oh, tomorrow.

Teddy's calling. Hi, Teddy.

Hey, uh, nice job
with the grouper.

Bob, I got a situation here.

Good news is, I'm a probationary
member of the Pioneers.

The bad news is,
there's some very unsettling

initiation stuff going on.

You know I'm not comfortable
with knives or heights,

and this is both.

- I might need you
to come get me.
- Oh, my God.

And I need you to bring me
a bathrobe and some gauze.

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