Original subtitles

Welcome back to "Swords and Knives for Wives"

on the Langley Home Shopping Network.

Next up, we've got these kitchen scissors.

What? "That's not a knife," you say?

Correct again, my home beauties.

Two knives.

- Whoa! - Whoa!

- Ohhhh-aaaaaaah... - Ohhhh-aaaaaaah...

Now for a visit from an old friend of the show.

Let's give a warm welcome to Mr. Lincoln!

Penny for your thoughts, Mr. President?

You say you want a shave?

That makes cents.

While I show you how sharp these scissors are, a joke.

A llama and a raccoon walk into a barbershop and...

Oh, we're done.

He never gets to the punch line.

His scissors are too sharp.

I got to have those sharp-ass scissors!

My producer says we're sold out.

♪ Good morning, U.S.A. ♪

♪ I got a feelin' that it's gonna be a wonderful day ♪

♪ The sun in the sky has a smile on his face ♪

♪ And he's shinin' a salute to the American race ♪

♪ Oh, boy, it's swell to say ♪

- ♪ Good... ♪ - ♪ Good morning, U.S.A. ♪

Aah!

♪ Good morning, U.S.A. ♪

_

Roger, what are you doing here?

Just, uh, trying to return these gently used sausages.

Okay, but I'm meeting my dear friend

"Gina Lavetti" here,

so you going to go change into her, or what?

That's weird.

I heard you and Gina were in a fight.

What? Why? Did she say something?

Oh, uh, no.

What? Y-you know what? It's not my place.

Please don't tell Gina I said anything.

Don't tell Gina what?

Oh, shit.

Don't look at him for help.

This is between you and me.

I'm still pissed at you.

For what? What did I do?

You're the one who's an hour late.

At least I showed up,

unlike you to make candle store opening.

Hey, uh, I think I'm going to bounce.

I'm sorry I didn't make the opening,

but I can come by the candle shop tomorrow.

Can't. Failed.

Turns out taco smell is not something people

are looking for in a candle.

Gina, can we try to move past this?

I forgot my sausages.

Why would I want to move past this?

It's not like it's the first thing you've done.

What do you mean?

Well, for starters, you kept liking Dan's

Instagram after he dumped me.

You didn't reach out when my turtle died.

You didn't even congratulate me when I got my Prius,

which I know you know I have.

You're a bad friend. You're not supportive.

You're a toxic person. Goodbye.

Gina, stop! You're right.

I've been a bad friend,

but I promise I'll be more supportive.

Can you give me another chance?

Well, I don't know.

But if you want to tag along,

I'm about to go get some jeans at the sexy jean store.

Really? But that place is for hotties with b...

Let's get Gina some jeans!

There's nothing even close, Francine.

Uh, ma'am, you can't bring your goat into this store.

What? No. This is my friend, Gina.

It is eating the jeans.

I eat when I'm nervous!

Oh, I'm sure they look great.

Give us a show.

Ta-da.

I am going to kill myself.

Why does nobody make jeans

for regular women like me?

Ding dong. Light-bulb moment.

Maybe I'll make my own jeans.

Are you in support of that idea?

Oh. Oh, yeah. Yeah. You should totally do that.

They won't only be for me.

They'll also be for women just like me,

complicated women with complicated bodies,

but I don't know a lot

or even a single thing about making jeans.

You'll learn!

And this time, I'll be there every step of the way.

Even when I go to the bathroom?

Even then.

What if I got a rotten tummy

from eating too many asparagus stalks?

Sure! It happens.

Okay.

I'm starting to trust you.

And now for the final step.

Figuring out how to make jeans and making them.

Hmm, jeans.

Jeans.

_

Ugh, these renegade eyebrows of mine, so bushy.

I feel like all I ever do is pluck, pluck, pluck.

I would kill for your eyebrows.

Look at my little nothings.

I wouldn't wish these thin-y minis on my worst enemy.

Oh, please. I'd trade you in a heartbeat.

- I wish I had Dad's eyebrows. - I wish I had Steve's eyebrows.

Now that you know everything about making jeans,

I guess it's time to dig in.

Nope. I'm going to wait for a sign.

Oh, maybe it will come in the form of a dream.

Oh? Did I hear a little tippy-toe?

- Sorry? - Am I just supposed to

drift off to sleep totally unsupported?

- Do you want me to stay? - Yes.

Gina.

Jeans?

- It's time to make me, Gina. - Okay, bye.

Jeans!

You need this, but you got to call right now.

I had the dream.

I made the jeans!

I'm so proud of you!

I already know where I'm going to sell them,

on an all-the-way unzipped He-Man sleeping bag

in front of the bus depot.

What?! These jeans are great!

You should sell them on TV like Tuttle.

My friend has a product to sell.

My name? Francine.

Sagittarius.

Red.

Uh... bi-curious.

I got us a meeting!

- You have my eyebrows! - You have my eyebrows!

Someone is coming. Quick, hide!

Oh, my God. Wh... what are we going to do?

I can't go to school like this.

And I can't go to work like this.

We'll have to switch places.

This is already working.

These are very good jeans.

And they got a good flap to them.

It's my special proprietary blend.

- What's your revenue? - Zero.

How about your customer acquisition costs?

- What's that? - Your ROI?

- Pass. - Look. You have a great product,

but jeans are a hearty outdoor pant,

and our viewers are gentle indoor women.

I see. Well, thank you for your time.

Listen, gentlemen.

I am one of your viewers,

and I am not some gentle indoor woman.

I walked to the grocery store once.

Did I fall in the gutter?

Yes, and I wish I was wearing jeans

because the mud splashed all the way up to my underwear.

So in conclusion, my underwear is brown from a puddle,

and my friend deserves a chance to sell her jeans on TV!

Who are you?

She's my rock.

Ladies, I'm convinced.

You've got yourselves a show.

Now, let me tell you why my underwear is brown.

Ladies, are you tired, stressed out?

Do you have swollen ankles, sad eyes, bitch face?

Well, gross!

Wow. That guy knows how to sell pancake mix.

Francine! Oh, and you must be Gina Lavetti!

Welcome to the network. Are you excited?

More like nervous.

Don't worry about it, kid. You're gonna do great.

Ms. Lavetti, you're on next.

- This is too much pressure. - Listen to me.

I'll be right here in your ear the whole time.

You're on in three, two...

Talk about the jeans.

- Jeans. - Good!

Now show them who you are.

I'm Gina Lavetti, and this is me.

I've got the body of a rabbit and the soul of a lion.

I'm a 58-year-old woman who's loved, lost, and lived,

and I'm not done yet.

I am embarking on a new journey, a jean journey.

So if you don't have toothpick legs like the women

in magazines, pick up the phone.

My jeans are built for women who are built like me...

normal.

This space-age fabric is stretchy and tight.

You'll look so sexy,

you'll never want to take these jeans off.

Gina, you have a customer.

We're going to put her on the air.

Oh, I didn't really expect

to be on the air, but I do need some jeans.

You do? You love my jeans?

Oh, they're going to change your life

like you've changed mine.

Who else wants jeans?

That's a wrap!

Can you believe it, Franny?

We sold a pair of jeans to every woman who called in...

Two!

I'm on top of the world!

You would sell way more if they didn't give you

the 5:00 a.m. time slot.

- Why? - It's too late.

With the sunrise, people's hopes come back.

They stop trying to buy away their sadness, but don't worry.

I'm going to work day and night to get your jeans

in front of as many eyeballs are possible.

Cool, cool, Francine. Well, I'm going to head on over to Arby's

and do my kegels.

Como se dice!

Wake up in Spanish?

Como se dice jeans?

Como se dice normal women?

We need her to glow.

You're making her look gray!

She is gray.

Aah!

I'm so sorry. I just meant to fake it!

But let's fix the lighting, okay?

I don't know what's come over you, Langley,

but we sold out again! And to reiterate,

earlier I referred to that prank caller as a maggot.

That's maggot with an "M."

Big presentations today?

I hope that was yesterday.

- Steve. - Uh, yeah?

You look like you've gained 100 pounds overnight

and dyed your hair.

If it weren't for those big bushy eyebrows,

I wouldn't have recognized you.

And you know the rules.

Bushiest eyebrows go first.

So you're right after Ross.

Aaah!

So you jump out of this helicopter

and kill the terrorists!

Then we'll tell each other detailed stories

to prove that we're not virgins!

Now, Stan, you know the rules.

Wispiest eyebrows jump first!

Just kidding. Thickest pubes go first!

Hey, boss, wanted to talk to you about getting

Gina Lavetti a better time slot.

We want 3:00 a.m.

Tuttle's at 3:00 a.m.

Tuttle is old potatoes.

Gina is hot potato.

Tuttle's our boy. I'm not moving him.

Your boy, huh?

I look around, and I see me and Gina

are the only women here.

- So? - So...

I'm starting to think this is nothing but a boy's club.

Tss-cha-cha...

- Ch-ch-ch... - Bam!

What's happening?

♪ Boy's club ♪

♪ It's a boy's club ♪

♪ We're the boys ♪

- Pssh. - Aah.

♪ We're the boys, yeah! ♪

♪ It's a boy's club ♪

Pow!

I was right.

♪ Yeah ♪

The president is back!

And he wants to be corkscrewed again.

Move Tuttle?

He's a star!

This... this is embarrassing.

This, uh, this... this never happens.

Damn it!

Ow! These damn scissors suck!

They fired him. They fired Tuttle.

You're welcome.

Oh, my God. You were the one

who dulled his scissors.

Damn it. That would have been

way cheaper than buying a diamond penny.

Tuttle was a dear friend, a mentor.

Why would you do this?

What are you talking about?

I got you 3:00 a.m.

I never wanted 3:00 a.m.

I didn't even want to be on TV.

All I wanted was a supportive friend,

but you're poison, so get out of my face

and take your friendship bracelet back.

I didn't give you that.

And why doesn't that surprise me?

Welcome to "Gina's Jeans."

I'm Gina, and this is my co-host, Tuttle.

She hired Tuttle back?!

How could she do this to you?

She's gone absolutely insane!

I can't believe how stretchy they are

and yet so tight.

It's my proprietary blend.

You can walk in these jeans.

You can shop in them, and you can be an older woman

who is taking part in this world in them.

Let's take a call.

Love the jeans, love you.

There's just one thing.

I took the jeans off last night, and when I woke up,

I was wearing them.

Sweet dream jeans are made of these. Next caller.

She put her jeans on in her sleep?

- That seems weird. - Yeah.

That Gina is a real bitch.

Hey, Gina, love the jeans.

My ass has never looked better.

One thing, though, the jeans occupy my every thought

and also, uh...

control them.

Wait, the jeans are controlling her thoughts?

- Something's up. - Oh, I'll say something is up.

You got her the best time slot on the most successful

local home shopping network... all she ever wanted.

Well, actually, she just wanted to sell her jeans

off a sleeping bag at the bus depot.

We should be the ones banging Tuttle, not her.

Woman #3: Anyway, I met my friend for brunch,

and our jeans compelled us to steal a car

and drive to the coordinates.

- The coordinates? - Yep.

Uh-huh. What's at the coordinates?

Oh, just... our destiny.

Okay. Next caller.

Tell me you're having a nice, normal time with my jeans.

Oh, I am.

I wore them to a summer party, and it was a smash!

Also, my jeans would be so mad at me if I didn't say...

10, 21, 16, 47.

Okay, those are definitely coordinates.

Keep selling.

I'm going to the studio.

Yeah. Hit it with your car.

I ain't gonna tell nobody.

Klaus, you moron, Gina is my friend.

I got to go help her.

Now she's your friend?

Francine, I am working my ass off to be on your side,

but you've got me spinning in circles!

Okay, cards on the table. I will do anything to be liked.

I will say any words. I am loyal to no person or idea.

I just need the slightest shred of human connection.

Can you help me?

Gina is in trouble.

Gina is Roger!

Gina, I love the jeans.

She's gonna mention the coordinates.

I can wear them with a T-shirt.

I can wear them with a blazer.

That is true.

I get a lot of compliments on them.

That's wonderful! I thought you were gonna say...

10, 21, 16, 47.

We got to stop this!

Where you going?

I don't know. Probably...

10, 21, 16, 47.

- Hayley! - Mom, help me!

- Get in. - I can't.

These jeans are taking me somewhere.

I see.

Well, I'm going to 10, 21, 16, 47

if that's anywhere near where you're going.

Wow, this is crazy.

That would be great.

- How was work? - I had no idea what it was like

to have your eyebrows.

And I had no idea what it was like

to have your eyebrows.

So I was too light for your parachute

and drifted 17 miles from the mission drop zone.

Well, that's probably safer.

For me, yeah, but I was supposed

to be covering Johnson, so he's dead.

Then we're even because I kind of messed up

- your school presentation. - Oh, that's okay.

They barely count towards your grade.

Oh, good. That's great.

I panicked and showed them my dick.

Gina, I'm so sorry. You were right.

I was being a bad friend.

That's great, Francine, but we're a little past

that now being in the middle of what I can only assume

is a jeans death march.

What the hell is going on?

Well, my proprietary blend was cotton,

and a little piece of my spaceship's seat belt,

which is sentient and self-replicating,

which I initially thought might be a problem,

but then the fabric told me it wasn't

and to stop asking questions.

Everybody, get out of those jeans!

But the jeans make us beautiful!

You don't need jeans to be beautiful.

Easy for you to say, you skinny bitch!

You have to do something.

They won't listen to me.

What? The only reason they're in those jeans

is because you inspired them.

Now you've got to get them to take them off.

The jeans have all the power.

Because you gave it to them!

Now take it back.

Women of Langley, I used to think jeans

were the most important thing in the world,

that they made me worthy, beautiful, lovable.

Am I still now all these things even without the jeans?

Sure, but you're still wearing them a little bit.

I should have taken my shoes off first.

I didn't realize it, but I gave my power away

to the jeans, something that we are women should never do,

because when we give jeans too much power,

they end up controlling us.

Really go for it, Francine. You can't hurt me.

Aaaah, it hurts so much!

You're breaking my feet!

Find a supportive friend,

and get out of those damn jeans.

They're doing it!

They're free of the jeans!

It's just like the dream, how it all started.

Jeans, do you have a message for us?

Confidence is sexy.

That giant talking pair of jeans is worth millions!

Get it, boys!

Sorry, jeans.

You belong to the boy's club now.

Jesus Christ!

Have a great night!

- synced and corrected by sot26 - www.addic7ed.com