and we don't want you in it.
You already cost us
five points in the standings.
We can't have that.
Set the man up with his beanie.
Now you're representing, fool.
And this toothpaste...
this will make up
for the pepper spray, asshole.
Oh, shit.
I'll get the paint thinner
from maintenance.
Animals.
Matt, you were sent here...
to make a change.
And, so far, you've only had
your sinuses sanitized. So...
I think it's time to try a new approach.
Make some friends.
Earn their trust.
Why would I want to earn their trust?
Good.
Welcome to Stifler-vision.
I think there's
a cymbal class at 1:00.
I hate that. 
Yeah, but it's better than
the bass drum relay. 
Yeah, that's true. 
Yours look totally fantastic. 
Two for the price of one. 
My left one's bigger, see?
Yeah, mine, too, baby.
They can totally fix that. 
No!
Want to see?
I used to be... 
Lens fog. No!
What is that thing, butt weasel?
Yeah, it's the KR3, baby.
The Kaplowitz Remote Robotic Rover.
And you are so busted.
- Hey, Oscar, somebody call the Macro.
- Dude, please, shut up.
Pull your panties out of your ass.
I can help you with that chick.
What chick?
Dude, the one with all the tattoos.
The Tubanator.
Her name is Chloe.
Come on, man. I can help.
I'm the Stiffmeister.
- Master of love and romance.
- Bullshit.
I nailed three cheerleaders in one week
on spring break. College cheerleaders.
And I know why your camera spritzed out.
Dude, this thing is awesome.
- You ever use this to look up chicks' skirts?
- No.
But I did use it to win
the State Science Fair last year.
And I'm hoping it gets me into MIT next fall.
I really want to work for NASA.
National Anal Sex Association?
No it's Space...
- There's an Anal Sex Association?
- Oh, yeah, but you've got to be a pro.
Wait, there's a Space Association?
You were supposed to use this.
- See, it's got an anti-fog lens. Duh.
- Yeah, good.
- Can the robot record?
- All right, so, what are your intentions?
With the video, I mean. What are you doing?
Oh, it's just for fun.
I mean, who doesn't like to look
at hot naked chicks, right?
Keep it between us, and I'll let you watch.
Plus, I'll have you giving Chloe
the pelvic noogie inside a week.
Hey, Stifler. Phone.
We're in Detroit!
Locked into sweet Brazilian rum.
I'm fucking fubar, man!
I sent you rum today.
Could come in handy in Dorksville.
This place blows.
Hey, my roommate, Dr. Robot...
busted me taping some college chicks
in the shower. 
So now I have to be all nice to him and shit.
And I'm not getting any good footage
'cause these fucking bandees hate me.
Think of it
like trying to hook up with a virgin.
Act like you give a shit about them
until they bring you into the good stuff. 
Earn their trust?
Dude, that could work.
I'll be an undercover bandee fucker.
Hello, everyone.
Isn't it a peachy day here at Band Camp?
Band buds. How's it going? Yo.
Hey, I just want to say thanks
for the little wakeup call. You kidders.
Hey, I can finally hear
the music calling me, okay?
There. Hear it? Yeah. Me, too.
So I'm a totally new man, and... By the way,
you both look great in pantyhose.
- What are you doing?
- Awaiting my marching lesson, ma'am.
Look, Matt, I really don't have time for this
right now.
No, look, I figure I'm here,
I might as well make the best of it.
Matt, marching's hard, okay?
It's not like throwing some football.
- Oh, you ever thrown into double coverage?
- You ever high-stepped in double time?
Yes, ma'am, the time the cops chased us
across Koreno's Creek.
And you got so scared, you cried.
- I had allergies.
- It was winter, Mattie.
Well, if you don't teach me to march,
I might just cry again.
Fine.
Left foot on one and three,
right foot on two and four.
You have to do math?
One, two, three, middle.
One, two, three, line.
Right foot