And now the kung pao chicken.
Smooth.
And finally,
my moo shu pork.
Our entire dinner unpacked by robot.
And it only took 28 minutes...
Impressive, but we must be cautious.
Why?
Today, it's a Chinese food retrieval robot.
Tomorrow, it travels back in time and tries to kill Sarah Connor.
I don't think so.
No one ever does. That's why it happens.
Is the food here? What's that?
That, dear lady, is the Wolowitz Programmable Hand,
designed for extravehicular repairs on the International Space Station.
Cool.
Ask me to pass the soy sauce.
Does that come up much on the space station?
Mostly with Asian and Jewish astronauts.
All right. Pass the soy sauce.
Coming up.
So how's work?
It's not bad.
Kind of hungry.
We all are.
Just wait.
You realize that the technology that went into this arm
will one day make unskilled food servers such as yourself obsolete.
They're going to make a robot that spits on your hamburger?
I thought you broke up. Why is she here?
Here we go. Passing the soy sauce.
Put out your hand.
Amazing.
I wouldn't say amazing.
At best, it's a modest leap forward
from the basic technology that gave us Country Bear Jamboree.
Peace?
No, not peace. Hang on.
The TBBTeam presents
Episode 4x01: The Robotic Manipulation
Benji1000, Blek, kiima
MisterCaribou, Strex, Titou
Does NASA know you're using that thing as a napkin holder?
You kidding? They still think it's in a secure locker at JPL.
You stole it?
Borrowed.
The trick is to carry it out like you own it.
Excuse me.
Amy's at the dry cleaners,
and she's made a very amusing pun.
"I don't care for perchloroethylene,
"and I don't like glycol ether."
Get it? She doesn't like glycol ether.
Sounds like "either."
"LOL."
- Who's Amy? - His girlfriend.
- Sheldon has a girlfriend? - She's not.
- For how long? - Four months.
She's not my girlfriend.
For the past four months I have been asking you, "What's new?"
and you never told "Sheldon has a girlfriend"?
She's not my girlfriend.
How did they meet?
Raj and I entered Sheldon's information on a dating site,
and it spit out Amy Farrah Fowler.
Sheldon and Amy.
Or, as we call them, "Shamy."
Shamy. I am so digging the Shamy.
All right, everyone pay attention.
Yes, I have a friend named Amy Farrah Fowler.
Yes, she is female.
Yes, we communicate on a daily basis,
but no, she is not my girlfriend.
What do you communicate about?
My work in physics,
her work in neurobiology,
and most recently, the possibility of having a child together.
Wait a minute, a child?
You never see this girl. You just e-mail and text and Twitter.
Now think about having a baby?
Amy pointed out that between the two of us,
our genetic material has the potential
of producing the first in a line of intellectually superior,
benign overlords to guide humanity to a brighter tomorrow.
I'm guessing that future historians will condemn us
for not taking this opportunity to kill Sheldon.
I have a question.
You don't even like people touching you.
How are you going to have sex?
Why on Earth would we have sex?
Honey, did your mom not have the talk with you?
You know, when your private parts started growing?
I'm quite aware of the way humans usually reproduce,
which is messy, unsanitary,
and based on living next to you for three years,
involves loud and unnecessary appeals to a deity.
Yes, exactly.
Consequently, if Amy and I choose to bring new life in this world,
it will be accomplished clinically,
with fertility experts in a lab with petri dishes.
Which reminds me, you have broad hips and a certain corn-fed vigor.
Is your womb available for rental?
Still digging the Shamy?
Look, before you race off to the fertility clinic,
you might want to think about... Gee, I don't know...
maybe actually spending some time with her.
Dating?
I can't.
- Why not? - She's not my girlfriend.
Don't think of it as dating a girlfriend.
Think of it as getting to know the future mother of your child.
I hadn't considered that.
I suppose she will have to have access to our progeny.
And you don't think I can achieve
the required intimacy via text messaging?
Probably not.
It'd appear as if the phone companies have been lying to me.
You do realize I stand on the other side of the door
waiting for you to finish knocking three times.
I know. I can see the shadow of your feet under the door.
My point is it's a waste of time.
If you're looking for an example of a waste of time,
I would refer you to the conversation we're having right now.
What do you want?
I've decided to take your advice
and have arranged to go on a date with Amy Farrah Fowler.
That's great. Have fun.
Wait. You have to drive me.
What?
You know I don't drive.
- Go ask Leonard. - I did.
He said, and I quote: "Ask Penny, it was her cockamamy idea."
He said "cockamamy"?
Actually, I'm paraphrasing.
I've been raised in a Christian household,
I'm uncomfortable with the language he used.
And to be honest, I'm not comfortable with "cockamamy."
- Fine. When's the date? - Now.
Now?
Hurry. We're going to be late.
Sheldon, did it ever occur to you that I might have other plans?
I'm sorry. Do you have other plans?
Well, no, not per se, but...
So this conversation is as pointless as your door-knocking soliloquy?
Let me get my cockamamy keys.
That feels so good.
That's the spot.
Dinner's ready!
I'll eat later.
I'm busy!
Just like a real hand.
Thank you for driving me.
You're welcome.
I wish you weren't wearing flip-flops.
It's dangerous to drive in flip-flops.
I just don't want to be yet another flip-flop fatality.
Can I ask you a question?
Given your community college education,
I encourage you to ask me as many as possible.
Well, my question is, and I'm pretty sure I know the answer,
is this your first date?
That depends.
Does square-dancing with my sister
at a Teens for Jesus Fourth of July Hoedown count as a date?
Then, this is my first date.
Well, then, there's a couple of things you should probably know.
I have a master's degree and two doctorates.
The things I should know, I do know.
My point is, I know more about dating than you,
and if you were as smart as this, you would listen to me.
If you know so much, how come I have a date tonight
and you have nothing better to do than drive me to it?
Fair point.
There's something I've always wondered about Aquaman.
Where does he poop?
What?
What would a toilet look like in Atlantis?
How would you flush it? And when you did flush it,
where would the poop go?
Hold that thought.
What's up?
What...
Hold on. Howard, slow down.
The robot hand is stuck on your what?
You're not gonna believe this.
So Amy, Sheldon tells me you're a neuro...
something-or-other.
Neurobiologist.
Your "check engine" light is on.
It's okay.
- But the light indicates... - Don't bother.
I've wasted many an hour tilting at that particular windmill.
What is that scent you're wearing? It smells great.
Dandruff shampoo.
I have dry scalp.
Your hair looks very nice.
Are you a homosexual?
I'm just giving you a compliment.
Would have been more flattered if you were a homosexual.
How about some music?
I wouldn't care for that.
Uncomfortable silence it is.
Have you told Amy what it was like growing up in Texas?
Why don't you tell her?
All right.
It was hell.
Any follow up?
I grew up in Nebraska.
Small town outside of Omaha.
A nice place, mostly family farms, a few meth labs.
I'm sorry, how is this better than uncomfortable silence?
I don't know. I was just trying something.
Muggles.
You slipped and fell into a robot hand?
Penis first?
Now, help me!
I'd suggest a lubricant, but I guess you fell on some of that as well.
Not funny.
Really?
A robot hand's got a death grip on your junk.
That's funny, ask anyone.
Before my mother walks in, get this off me!
Let's see.
Don't touch, the program is paused.
Let's un-pause it.
I loaded the wrong program it thinks it's holding a screwdriver.
If you continue, it's gonna start...
twisting.
All right.
How about this?
When Winnie the Pooh got his head stuck in the honey tree,
his friends all grabbed onto him and pulled and pulled.
You do what you want, I wont touch another man's honey tree.
All right, forget pulling.
How about we get an electric saw and cut it off?
What? No saws!
One circumcision was enough.
How about an acetylene torch?
I can't believe this needs to be said.
No pulling, no saws, no torches.
What do we do?
Howard, I made cookies for you and your little friends!
That's great, Mom, thanks!
I'll bring them up with some Hawaiian Punch!
Don't come up here!
Why not? Are you ashamed of your mother?
Yes, but that's not the point!
Get me out.
You have any ideas, Raj?
All I can think about is cookies and Hawaiian Punch.
Here's another possible topic of conversation.
This is a big night for Sheldon.
Right?
Big night?
The winter solstice is a big night.
It's over 14 hours in Southern California.
That's an amusing factoid.
My point is, tonight's Sheldon's first official date.
Discuss.
It's true?
A semi-incestuous Teens for Jesus Fourth of July Hoedown didn't count.
So, Amy, what about you? Do you date much?
Once a year.
A deal I made with my mother for her silence on the matter,
as well as the use of her George Foreman Grill
that seals in the flavor without the fat.
How about you? Do you go on many dates?
I wouldn't say many. A few.
What's...
Your characterization of approximately 171 different men as "a few."
What...
Where did you get 171 men?
Simple extrapolation.
In the three years that I've known you, you were single for two.
During that time, I saw 17 different suitors.
If we work backwards, correcting for observation bias
and postulate an initial dating age of 15...
Wait. I did not start dating at 15.
- I'm sorry. Sixteen? - Fourteen.
My mistake.
Assuming the left side of a bell curve peaking around the present,
that would bring the total up to 193 men.
Plus or minus 8 men.
Remarkable.
Did you have sexual intercourse with all of these men?
Although that number would be fairly easy to calculate.
Based on the number of encounters with strange men leaving her apartment
at the morning, plus the number of times
she's returned home wearing the same clothes.
I think you've made your point.
So we multiply 193 minus 21 men before the loss of virginity
so 172 times 0.18 gives us...
30.96 sexual partners.
Let's round that up to 31.
You are so wrong. It's not even close to the real number.
I'm gonna need a drink over here.
This is very interesting. Cultural perceptions are subjective.
Penny, to your mind, are you a slut?
Let's just all finish our dinners.
This is an interesting topic.
How many sexual encounters have you had?
Does volunteering for a experiment in which orgasm was achieved
by electronically stimulating the pleasure centers of the brain count?
I should think so.
Then 128.
Come on.
Almost there.
Don't tug. No tugging.
Next time, take your own advice.
Excuse me, could you help us out?
What do we have here?
- I slipped and fell. - We get that a lot.
What is this?
It's a robot arm.
Where's the rest of the robot?
I only built the arm.
'Cause that's all you needed, right?
Can you please just help me?!
All right. Hang on, stay calm.
I need an orderly with a wheelchair. Robot hand grasping a man's penis here.
You could be a little more discreet?
I'm sorry, we don't have a code for "robot hand grasping a man's penis."
- Why is it hooked up to a computer? - It's what controls the arm.
It's frozen.
Did you try turning it off and back on again?
You see, it's more complicated than that.
No, wait!
Winnie the Pooh is out of the honey tree.
Now can we have cookies and Hawaiian Punch?
You were right.
This was a very productive evening.
I saw a whole new side of Amy Farrah Fowler tonight.
I did not have sex with 31 guys.
I'll be happy to check the math, but numbers don't lie, Penny.
In any event. Now that Amy and I have spent quality time together,
I feel much more confident proceeding to the next stage.
And that is?
Using in vitro fertilization
and a surrogate uterus to gift humanity with our progeny.
You're still on that?
In these uncertain times, doesn't humanity deserve a gift?
You know what? I'm gonna come at this in a new way.
If you try to make a baby with Amy in a petri dish,
I'm gonna tell your mother on you.
That's no threat.
- Mother's always wanted a grandchild. - Really?
Your deeply religious born-again Christian mother
wants a test-tube grandbaby born out of wedlock?
Curses.
If I'd thought of that in the 1st place, I could've saved this whole night.
Well, it's not that late. You could still look for number 32.
Good night.
Howard, what's up?
I've decided not to procreate.
Great.
Howard, slow down. What do you mean it happened again?