Original subtitles

? Whoa! ? ? Attention ?

? Yeah! ?

? I need attention ?

? Give me that ? ? Give me that ?

? Okay ?

? Give me your attention ?

There was a time where I was just like you.

I wasn't the main character. No offense.

You'll get there by the end of the show.

After high school, I thought I wanted to be earthy

and major in chocolate mushrooms at Brown University,

but the universe had other plans.

I was rejected and then redirected to go to Harvard...

the Harvard of the South...

...where I barely got my driver's license

and got cut from almost every single sorority.

The first few days at Duke were tough.

I mean, I was a nobody,

but being the Manhattan girly I was,

I knew exactly what I had to do

to make my first night at college epic.

I wiped off the sharpied 'X's from my underage wrists

and took down Fireball shots

like I'd done all my senior year at Lavo and 1Oak.

It was that night where I learned

three critical college lessons:

One, being an RA is social suicide.

Two, Duke lacrosse players

are as hot as they are misogynistic.

And three,

nobody wanted to fuck me.

? More than you know ? ? More than I say ?

? But now you're all up ? ? In my daydreams ?

? With just one look ? ? I wanna know what it means ?

? Be mine ?

? Be mine ?

? I'll be all yours ? ? So be mine ?

? Be mine ?

I wish, but I'm not gonna be in town.

Thank you so much for thinking of me though.

We'd love to work together in the future. Okay.

- Is everything okay? - Yeah. All good.

I think this coffin is trying to kill me.

You look like you just got hazed

by a group of drag queens.

How do I even get this off?

You don't. Glitter is forever.

It's like herpes, but sparkly.

Let's go get a drink. I'm thirsty!

Careful. It's hot. - Thank you.

Will you help me run some lines?

Yeah, sure. What do you need?

- Page four. Just right there. - Okay. Yep.

I learned three college-level lessons that night:

One, being an RA is social suicide.

Two, Duke lacrosse players

are as hot as they are misogynistic.

And three, nobody wanted to fuck me.

Did I miss a line?

I'm not sure I wanna hear about your past conquests.

It's just a line, Felix.

No, it's fine.

Everyone has a past.

Okay, move over a little bit, please.

It's not me, it's SFK.

So you got no dick?

Mm, no, I definitely got dicked down.

All right, relax.

Why you gotta say it like that?

Why are you smiling so wide?

You like taking a trip down memory lane?

It's all part of my plot.

Plot this, plot that.

Are you actually mad?

I just don't like thinking about

my missus with another man.

Even if it's just a character.

I get it.

I mean, look at me.

Covered in glitter, acting like an unpaid intern.

That's love.

More like best supporting actor.

But thank you for doing this.

Okay, let's start here.

Yep.

As I woke up cuddling a box of Cinnastix

and Cheesy Bread from Domino's,

scrolling through all the party pics

that were posted on Facebook,

it was kind of like Getty Images,

but ratchet.

I got this unshakable feeling

that if I wanted to rack up my body count,

something would have to change.

I mean, college was a chance for reinvention.

I could literally lie about anything

and no one would know.

So the following morning, I snorted a line of Adderall,

put on a fugly dress from Lilly Pulitzer,

and told the first person I knew

that I legally changed my middle name to fucking,

which would make me...

Serena fucking Kerrigan.

Exactly. And it worked.

SFK was a sickening version of myself.

I was obsessed with her,

so I kept putting her on everything,

including these $300

monogrammed pillowcases from Pottery Barn,

so that whoever woke up next to me

would know exactly who they got with.

A couple weeks later,

I was invited to my first off-campus party

and it was Dazed and Confused theme.

And I was confused. I was panicking.

But then for the first time, I asked myself,

"What would SFK do?"

She would buy some weed.

A couple hours later, I marched into that party

with what I can only describe as a Project Runway winning piece,

an elaborate necklace with joints hanging off of it.

I haven't gotten that much attention

since I gave a handjob like this in the seventh grade.

Everyone was asking to take pictures with me

as if I was some kind of celebrity.

That's who SFK was.

A celebrity.

Why haven't you been picking up my calls?

My phone died.

I will choose to believe that against my better judgment.

Serena, we have an issue.

What's up?

Meghan Markle just canceled.

Did you really think she was gonna show up?

What do you mean? We met in 2016

and our lives have not been the same since.

If Meghan doesn't attend, the press is gonna back out.

If the press backs out,

then it'll be significantly more difficult to sell shows,

which means your live touring career is in jeopardy.

- That feels dramatic. - Am I on speakerphone?

Can't we just find someone else?

Well, the most famous person that follows you is AOC,

and she's a little busy.

Let's just sit with this and connect later.

All right. Bye.

Who else am I gonna invite?

No one's gonna show up. This is so embarrassing.

Don't let it get to your head.

We still have time to find someone.

Not just someone. We need a celebrity.

SFK. A celebrity. A star in her own world.

She struts down the sidewalk like it's a red carpet.

Every word that comes out of her mouth

is just future practice for an Oscar speech.

And every outfit worn is meant to be photographed

by the paparazzi...

or her mom.

Eventually, I stopped suffering from

multiple personality disorder,

and SFK and Serena became one.

And I finally got my body count up to my GPA...

without the decimal.

So take it from me:

create a character,

and love that character fiercely.

Whenever you're feeling insecure,

I want you to turn that bitch on

with as much intensity as your Dyson air wrap,

get the fuck out there and start living your life.

But first, you have to accept that you're not playing a part.

This is still you.

This is the confident, fearless, unapologetic you.

And SFK is me.

I can't believe Meghan bailed.

Well, I can't believe she said yes to begin with.

Look, it's only Wednesday.

We still have time to find a replacement.

It's Wednesday?

Actually, Sere,

it�s What Would SFK Do? Wednesday.

Should we answer some questions?

Yeah. Any good ones?

Uh... Oh.

Someone asked, "What do I wear to see my ex?"

A trash bag if he's going inside of you.

Touch�.

Next question. Okay, this one's for you.

Okay.

"Who's the next guest on your podcast?"

I'm taking a brief hiatus. I got to make sure

that Gertrude here gets to L.A. safely,

but can't wait to get back to the show

once we're home in New York City.

By the way, Gertrude is the name of the coffin,

not his sneaky link.

Okay, um- Okay.

"I keep making eye contact with a hot guy

in a grocery store. What do I do?"

Stop with the eye contact.

Go up to him and introduce yourself.

Mm, no. I think you should smile.

Give him a signal. - I'm telling you,

it's hot when girls come up and talk to you.

Mm-mm, mm-mm. No. He should approach.

Just eye fuck him.

Eye fuck him?

Yeah, like this.

Told you, eye fucking works.

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