Soda water.
- Lime wedge? - Nah.
Who am I trying to fool?
Hey there.
Hi.
- Are you staying at the hotel? - I am.
Yeah, me, too, you know.
I'm, I'm Curtis.
Gretchen.
Wow. I don't think I've ever actually met a Gretchen.
Well, Curtis, now you have.
Yes, I have.
So, are you... are you here alone,
or...?
Yes, I... I am alone.
I-I guess what I'm asking in a larger sense is...
single?
Are you... are you single?
Single like a fox.
Although, I did almost get married once.
Almost.
Well, I mean, would you want to tell me the story over a drink?
Aw, fuck it.
Whiskey, rocks.
You live exactly once, right, Curtis?
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Okay, the final options for Gretchen's.
Walk Down the Aisle music.
"Tubthumping" by Chumbawamba, "Juicy," Biggie,
"Poison" by Bell Biv DeVoe.
As Shakespeare said, "Never trust a big butt and a smile."
"Freak on a Leash" by Korn,
- "Marry Me" by Train. - Nix that one.
I don't want to ruin my mascara crying too hard.
"Sweet Child of Mine," GNR,
"Relax" by Frankie Goes To Hollywood.
- You do know that's about butt sex? - I do.
Madonna, "Like A Virgin,"
"2 Become 1," Spice Girls. Aw.
"Sabotage," Beastie Boys, "Waterfalls," TLC.
Too sad. AIDS. Change it to "No Scrubs."
"Pop That Pussy" by 2 Live Crew,
"Girls Just Want to Have Lunch" by Weird Al,
"Maneater" by Hall and Oates
and "Cherry Pie" by Warrant.
- Great list. - Greatest list.
So, shall we winnow it down?
Gonna have to winnow lata, playa.
I have to head into the office
before the shitstorm du jour starts.
Aw, damn it!
Calgon, right?
Anyway, office drahms.
Debbie's inner-ear problem is flaring up,
so she's always weaving when she walks.
And Mike's cat's butt is jacked
after she had all those baby cats.
Blah, blah, blah. Work shit.
Yeah, yeah, mi-might I remind you that your first wedding
is but five days away,
and we still need to choose the font for the name cards
and pick a punny name for our signature cocktail.
And we're totally gonna do all that bullshit,
but again, supes swamped at wiz-erk.
Yeah, no, that's actually fine, 'cause Edgar and I
have our notes "phoner" with the studio today.
Because we finished the script. Which I told you about already.
At which time your reaction was similarly,
dishearteningly muted.
Cool, bud. See ya.
What?
Nothing.
It just doesn't seem like
- Gretchen's very excited about the wedding. - Edgar.
As clearly evidenced by not even having time
to close the front door, Gretchen is incredibly busy
with important work things.
- Hi. - Hey, everybody.
Hey, guys. Sheila here.
Hi, Sheila.
We just... Are we just waiting for everyone else, or...?
We just wanted to say
you two did a great job.
Hey, Sheila, it's Edgar.
We're just a little confused.
Isn't this a notes call?
Yeah, it sounds like our wires got crossed.
No, we're all set. Again, amazing work.
So, then, th-the next step would be...?
Absolutely. Take care, guys.
No notes? Boom!
I don't know, Jimmy.
No notes isn't really a thing, remember?
I'm gonna call my agent.
No, Jimmy.
Check Deadline.
Hi, Grace.
The studio's hired Diablo Cody
to adapt my book?!
But we already wrote it.
They probably just kicked you a draft
to keep the relationship good while you finish
the other two Peach books.
Sort of how Tom gets "story by" credit
on all the Reachers.
Guess I haven't seen you in a while, huh?
My dad sobered up and found religion for us.
Now I get to wear this cool sailor's costume,
and I live in a room above a GameStop on Sunset
with four other children.
I left word.
Hey, you know what I just caught on cable?
Jack Reacher.
It's really good.
You should tell people it's good.
Can I count on you to tell people it's good, Jimmy?
Another great living novelist felled by the studio system,
Like F. Scott Fitzgerald or Chuck Palahniuk.
How utterly cliché.
Well, at least my better half is still gainfully employed.
You got the shit?
Why can't I meet you somewhere normal?
Hit me with the hot work goss.
It turns out, Mike's cat actually has hemorrhoids.
Debbie took a header coming out of the bathroom.
Yvette's still a giant bitch for firing you.
- How's Toilet? - How would I know?
He's great. Okay?
Gretch, I can't keep doing this. I think these papers
you're making me steal may be important.
If they were so important, why are they in the trash?
Jimmy's never once looked at your work stuff.
Why do you need Caliber papers
to make him believe you weren't canned?
I can't let him know I am losing it
right before the wedding.
I'll tell him after.
Divorce is so much paperwork.
He'll never get around to that shit.
Stupid Yvette.
I mean, who fires someone right before their wedding?
You know what?
I am going to march in there and chew her ass out for you.
Plus, it's only four episodes,
so we can probably watch it all tonight.
Let's order Thai.
Okay. Hey.
You know what else we should do?
- Rehire Gretchen. - What?
Hey, where'd your butt go?
I understand that Gretchen is your friend,
but she royally screwed up.
Did she, though?
She set off a fire alarm to avoid
disappointing one of her clients.
That is insane.
I feel like you're upset.
So what color curry should we get tonight?
Yellow? Red? Blue?
Something came up.
Just now?
Okay.
My own creation, ripped from my heaving bosom.
No!
Edgar, be a dear and answer this, will you?
Whoever it is won't stop calling,
and I'm far too distressed
to synthesize any sort of cogent thought.
Jimmy's phone. This is Edgar.
Hold on.
The caterer wants to know if you want
red or white quinoa in the farro salad.
We'll get back to you.
I'm gonna ask Gretchen.
Caliber PR.
Hi. Gretchen Cutler's office, please?
You are hearing this prepared statement
because you called for Gretchen Cutler,
whose employment was terminated immediately
upon the incident on the 12th.
If Ms. Cutler has personally injured or assaul...
I left word.
Good girl.
Time for sleepies.
You get some sleep, okay? Good night.
Hey, you want to help me find a new apartment?
Bec and I talked Paul into springing for a sweet Airbnb.
"For the baby." Oops.
I'm supposed to do the quotes in my head.
- I have a secret. - Hell, yeah.
Love secrets. Lay it on me.
I'm a lesbian now.
That's...
That's amazing.
I am so honored that you would trust me with this. Come here.
You outed yourself to the right hombre.
I'm sort of a lezbo expert.
Not 'cause I'm cranked up by the idea of two ladies
smushing their titties and boxes together and whatnots,
- but on account of my two moms. - Your what, now?
Me being born dead was mad stressful on my folks.
I survived, but their marriage didn't.
But it was a stealth blessing
'cause it turns out my mom is super gay.
And you turned out like this?
Right. That's why I'm so mad fucking sensitive.
I like Yvette so much.
I've never felt this way about anyone, not even Dave Navarro.
Plus, I've never dated a woman,
so I don't know if I'm doing any of this right.
Okay. Let's run through your relaish right quick.
- When was your last hike? - Never.
Which Costco do you guys belong to together?
- None. - Have you seen Fun Home?
How many flannels do you own?
Which Subaru have you test-driven?
- Zero. - How much did you donate to NPR last year?
What's NPR?
What's your favorite Tegan and Sara album?
- Who? - Has she made you a chili?
- What? - A chili... beans, meat, a tomato base.
- A chili, goddamn it. - We haven't made a chili.
That's it!
You need to do something to let her know
that you're serious about being a lesbian.
Three, two...
Wheel of Fortune!
Home just in time for Wheel.
Pretty impressive how I have my commute
timed so perfectly, Jimbo?
Another crazy one at work today.
You know, Debbie, from accounting?
She ate shit coming out of the bathroom.
Really fucked herself up. Super funny.
Also, Mike's cat's butt exploded.
Don't you want to know what's wrong?
Of course.
I was essentially fired off my own movie,
only to be rewritten by Diablo Cody. Diablo Cody.
- Juno. - I do know.
Ever since, I've been in a depressive spiral.
I hope that you can still love me through this.
There, there, bud.
It'll be okay.
You know, I really underestimated
the amount of psychic pain that depression can inflict.
This really puts your past flare-ups into context.
It really does.
Hey, Gretchen.
Hello there.
How are you?
So good.
Work is B-A-N-A-N-A-S.
Debbie from accounting died, so there's a cake for that later.
And my assistant Mike's cat has a robot butt.
You know, cool work stuff.
All right.
See ya.
? The bells are ringing ?
? For me and my gal ?
? The birds are singing ?
? For me and my gal ?
? Everybody been knowing ?
? To a wedding we're goin'. ?
I've done it. I bested my depression.
Gretchen, I gazed into the eye of the great void
and I said, "Nay",
you shan't take me today, void."
Sorry for being such a bummer yesterday.
It was really quite selfish of me
to burden you with my sadness like that.
- No worries. - And now I wholly
empathize with your experience of depression.
I'm just glad those dark days are behind us.
- Anyways, I really got to get to... - I am gonna seize
this glorious day to take care of manifold wedding tasks.
I can't believe we're getting married in four days.
- Same. - I'm also gonna take my tux to get pressed.
Would you like me to take your dress, as well?
Don't worry, I won't peek at it.
- Actually, I don't have one. - What's that?
No dress, homeboy. I've been busy.
Work. Got to go, so busy.
Debbie go boom, cat butt turn for worse.
Bye.
Work it.
Remind the DA that while Lil' Reba claims in every interview
to be "moving bricks," she's nine years old.
Then leak to the source that Reba is quote:
"Hard as shit and has been flipping packs
since she was six."
Okay? Yes, and...
Let me call you back.
Lindsay, please. I really don't have
- time for your... - Ta-da.
Dear God.
I really like you, Yvette.
I want to go hiking to Costco
with you and buy chili stuff.
Let's make a chili.
Did you seriously think that putting on
some lesbian minstrel show would convince me to... what?
I don't even know what you want.
- I want you. - You're not gay.
Not to mention the fact that you had an agenda
to get Gretchen hired back.
That's not true! We squished boxes before you fired Gretchen.
Don't hire her back; I don't care.
I'm sorry, Lindsay.
Okay, you're right, maybe I am trying hard
but that's because I love you so quit the bullshit
and tell me you love me back or I'll stab you, you fucking cunt.
You know what?
You're fired.
You can't fire me.
There are literal hours of security footage
of you stealing confidential documents from the shred bin.
You mean the locked trash?
You also just threatened to stab me.
- I'm gonna... - Yeah.
So what am I looking at, severance package-wise?
Just around?
Ballpark it for me is fine.
- Yo, you got the papers? - No, Gretchen.
I don't have your papers.
- I quit. - What? Why?
For you, in solidarity. I thought you'd be happy.
Four days, Lindsay.
You couldn't hold on for four Goddamn more days?
No! This has gone too far.
Just tell Jimmy the truth.
If someone really loves you, they don't get mad,
no matter what you tell them.
Here, watch.
I've been sleeping with Yvette.
And also, I didn't quit; she fired me.
See?
And I ate her butt. See? No one cares.
Yvette? You were literally sleeping with the enemy!
You're not gay.
Well, I thought maybe I was for a second because I'm lost.
Jesus.
Changed my mind, maybe you shouldn't tell Jimmy.
Also, she wasn't the enemy.
You actually did screw up pretty bad.
You caused, like, a hundred grand worth of water damage
- to that club. - You sound like a narc.
You're a giant narc bitch and I have somewhere to be.
- Narc. - Well, you're a tiny bitch.
And I have nowhere to be.
And you didn't even say anything about my hair.
It's Paul hair.
What are you doing later?
I don't know! Call me!
Hi. My friend's a klepto and I think she just stole a dog.
What? No.
These doggos are all up for adoption
or walking. We're here every week.
You know, most people do this for the dogs,
but something tells me that chick needs
these walks more than the dogs do.
Some of the dogs actually get bummed when she shows up.
Like they can smell the desperation.
Just give me a dog, man.
Make it a real badass one.
You following me, narc?
I'm worried about you, Gretchen.
Why? I'm doing great.
Look how good I am at fetch.
What were you looking for in the garbage this morning?
- Mind your own business, Edgar. - You made it my business
when you started stealing my meds.
- Meds you don't use. - I don't use them
because they were messing me up and they're prescribed to me.
Who knows what they're doing to you.
I do.
They're making life bearable.
Are you insane, monitoring me?
My parents did that and they were my parents.
And I rejected them forever for it.
You're just... you.
Like, who the fuck are you even?
Maybe the best thing for everyone
would be for you
to get the hell out of our lives for good!
I know you got fired.
Please don't tell Jimmy.
Jimmy doesn't care about your job.
Edgar, I am begging you.
Don't tell Jimmy.
He will leave me again and this time, he won't be
- wrong to do it. - Gretchen, Jesus.
I was really trying at work.
And I still blew it.
Even when I try, I fail.
I always fail.
And I can't fail with Jimmy.
I just... can't.
I won't tell him.
But don't you think you should be able to?
I'm sorry.
Goddamn, homey, work was straight cray again today.
But I am so stoked I made it home in time for...
What's up, Jimmy?
Jimmy.
What?
I got you a wedding dress.
What the...
Jimmy, that's exactly the dress I didn't know I needed.
How did you...?
Beat it.
- Can you unzip me, mister? - Yes, just go.
Obviously we'll have it taken in significantly.
Thank you.
I got fired.
Well, that's okay.
Really?
Yeah, we'll figure it out.
And if not, Edgar can give us homeless advice.
Actually, I got fired, like, two weeks ago.
I've just been pretending to go to work
like some prideful Japanese businessman.
Also I stopped talking to my therapist
and I've been taking a bunch of random pills.
And even though I have literally nothing to do,
I just can't bear to bring myself
to do a single thing for this wedding.
Our wedding is gonna be amazing.
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