Original subtitles

The strappy ones are cute, but I don't think they're my size.

Yeah, it's fucked up that you can't try them on.

Yeah, you only get one shot to steal some asshole's

fancy shoes at the hipster bowling alley.

Ugh, these rich kids' lives are like theme parks,

and this stupid, ironic bowling alley

is like Poorland: The Ride.

As an actual poor person, I resent that.

Well, I'm doing my part

sticking it to the nouveau riche

by stealing a pair of their designer shoes.

Not that anybody at this premiere will even notice them.

Who would have thought that when you were shooting

a student film that one day you'd be wearing

designer shoes on the red carpet to promote it.

It will be excited to see myself on the big screen.

Plus, I shot it in 2012,

so I could either be 5 pounds thinner or 40 pounds heavier.

Are you almost done? Oh, relax.

You'll be able to pick up your horrifying saddle shoes

with glitter laces in a minute.

Let me guess, did you get those pins on Etsy?

Were they like, what, 15 bucks apiece?

18 bucks, and I think they're "adorkable."

Etsy is a cult.

Except with arts and crafts instead of group sex.

So basically camp. The worst cult.

Hello, these are my bowling shoes I'm returning.

I sure had a gay old time bowling in them.

Those are mine, I think. The Louboutins.

I lost my ticket. 9 1/2, right?

Yep, these are definitely mine.

[coughing]

Oh, grow up, Millennial Velma.

[rock music]

♪ ♪

This place? You kidding me?

Some premiere.

Looks like the only red carpet I'll be seeing

is the one I paid somebody to wax off this afternoon.

Well, Cinnamon Challenge,

I still think it's very exciting.

Yeah, well, you work for PBS.

You called Charlie Rose's new hair part exciting.

Ah, that was the biggest day in PBS history.

Left to right, we lost two viewers.

I don't want to think about my job,

especially now that my responsibilities have expanded.

Now I'm listening to viewer voicemails on the comment line.

I have to transcribe each message and then write a report.

I'm over it, brass brad.

Well, maybe this movie will be a hit,

and it'll be my big break,

and then I can be the breadwinner for a while.

I'd love it. Bread.

Mmm, bread. Mmm, bread.

All right, I'll see what I can do.

The movie's starting. Okay.

I still want bread, but the movie's starting.

[dramatic music]

♪ ♪

It was awful.

I was awful.

The movie and I were equal in our awfulness.

Every time I think I'm getting a break,

it winds up sucking worse than the last.

We're going to 7J. You know I don't like that.

What is the point of having a drug dealer for a neighbor

if you don't take advantage now and then?

So now I have to go to this audition not high.

I think it's so rude your drug dealer went to prison

without leaving any weed behind.

But he did leave 1,500 tiny baggies behind,

which I'm going to make into dream baggies.

What are dream baggies? They're my new business.

'Cause obviously this show business thing

is not a good idea.

I've got to bring in money somehow,

so I'm starting an Etsy store. Listen to this description.

"Whisper your desires into these dream baggies

and watch them become fully realized."

And then I hashtagged it "bridesmaids."

I think those Etsy dopes will eat that bullshit up.

I've already sold 30.

Now I have to actually make them.

Bye. Hey, Billy, Matthew.

Can one of you two glory holes finish brewing the sweet tea?

I gotta go.

Oh, Mama Goldilocks got her dancing shoes on.

You got a date tonight? How dare you think

I only dress for the approval of men.

We're not all out here trying to trick Dave Chappelle

into fucking us. Oh, still single then, huh?

Actually I have better after‐work plans

than jerking off into an empty box of Papa Johns cheesy bread.

Oh, okay, fine, I'll bite. What are you doing?

Plaster casting my hole. My sorority is in town.

The three girls I had gender confirmation with,

we got pussies together.

Oh, well, that sounds more fun than plaster casting my hole.

Could I come? No.

We have reservations at Sugarfish. No jokes.

And then tomorrow we're doing ayahuasca

and having a sound bath.

All right, well, plaster casting my hole it is.

Do I have an original thought in my head?

My perfectly shaped head?

I miss gauchos.

My slender ankles are wasted under these slacks.

Oh, stop it, Marilyn! You've got to focus.

Ready...set...

I should get a lemon wedge. I worked out this morning.

No, I should put something on the page,

then reward myself with a lemon wedge.

You can do this. It's easy.

Ready, set...

Am I caller 106?

Of course I'll repeat the phrase that pays.

I just won four tickets to see Barbra Streisand

and her dog perform in concert tomorrow night.

[hyperventilating] Yes!

MAN: Sherlock this, Sherlock that.

I didn't pledge $3 to watch Benedict Cumberbatch

and Martin Freeman not kiss!

Ugh.

I don't know how much longer I can last at PBS

if I have to keep this up.

Well, my Etsy store is taking off.

[knocking at door] A couple of women in Ohio

asked me to make them some fertility amulets

and a menstruation charm.

Mom, what's wrong?

Why would you assume something's wrong?

Because you just showed up at my door,

and you never do that. Only because your neighborhood

is awful and your apartment has fleas,

but I had to see your face when I tell you

that we are going to Barbra Streisand

duet with her dog tomorrow night.

Mom, you love Barbra Streisand!

And you love her dog.

I won tickets from Peri 106.9.

Light sounds and cherry‐picked news stories

for the perimenopausal woman with style and grace.

Anyway, I won four. You can invite Billy and a date.

Hello, Marilyn. I'd love to go.

Oh, what's all this?

Oh, I'm crafting. She's crafting.

You're avoiding writing a book, too.

Not that I'm avoiding writing a book.

How dare you suggest such a thing.

No, it just makes me happy.

I don't know, I get to spend all day away from people

and around things that don't talk or annoy me.

I feel as reclusive as Richard Simmons.

Although if anybody ever knocked on my door

hoping to make a podcast about where I was,

I beat him within an inch of his life.

Why so hostile.

♪ ♪

Man ain't got no breasts! Man got a penis!

The perverted homosexual spirit

is a cancer on society!

Michael Jackson died 'cause he's gay!

You, sir, are full of hate.

Prepare to be drowned out.

♪ June is busting out all over ♪

Oh, Lord, please save this man.

[vocalizing]

My God, it's like his singing is harmonizing

with that homophobe's point of view.

♪ Hey ♪

Hey, that song belongs to Leslie Uggams.

Stop racially appropriating it.

You are ruining our world! Hey, hey, ho, ho!

You are a sinner! Appropriation has got to go!

[overlapping shouting and singing]

Ladies and gentlemen!

I am a performance artist.

I will now be unleashing this box of crickets

to videotape your reaction.

[all screaming]

Oh, my God! Jesus fucking Christ!

[screaming]

I am so fucking over New York!

And then after the crickets,

someone pulled the emergency brake.

Why are you smiling? Did you find pot?

I think this is just what I look like when I'm happy.

So I take it the audition went well?

Oh, I blew it off.

But you were so excited about it.

You were gonna be the Progressive customer

who makes Flo cry.

I know, but then I got really into embroidering these amulets.

Julie, what the fuck is happening?

That student film made me realize something

that the world's been trying to tell me.

I'm not very good.

And we don't need another C‐plus actress.

We have Lea Thompson.

So you're gonna give up your chance

to snap Flo's headband in order to become who?

Etsy Ross?

Etsy Ross Matthews. Is that something?

Nope. I spent this whole year trying to be happy and famous,

and now I realize, it's a choice.

Since I've given up on being famous,

I've never felt happier.

Well, as long as we are pondering the imponderable,

I am officially over New York.

Every New Yorker is.

That's what we say when we have to talk to each other.

No, I mean it. I am over it, over it.

On my way here, I had to walk around two rats

who were fucking and eating a pigeon at the same time.

You gotta love The Big Apple and our multitasking vermin.

Julie.

It's 78 degrees in L. A. today.

But it's L. A.

Bottle episode, I did it.

I was listening to another voicemail

about how Tavis Smiley should change his name

to Tavis Frowney, when I left Gaby a voicemail of my own.

I quit PBS! You did what?

Well, careful, Blythe, don't eat too much

before the ayahuasca ceremony, just enough to throw up

the contents of your stomach.

At this point, I'd make a joke

about a skinny celebrity,

but I'm not allowed to do that anymore.

I just think we women should support each other.

Yeah, but tell that to the trans‐exclusionary radical

feminists no‐better‐than‐ Christian‐right motherfuckers.

I say with love. I'll go get the ayahuasca.

You girls all good on sweet tea?

Mm‐hmm. Yeah.

Hello. Well, who's ready to see the greatest

Yeshiva Flatbush graduate since the guy who sold

those junk bonds to my sister Bonnie

and then he retired in Cabo with all her money?

Hi, Marilyn. Thank you for the tickets, by the way.

Arthur, how are you? Oh, I've never felt more free.

I should have quit that job a long time ago.

You mean the job they fired you from

because of your drinking?

Either way, you're unemployed.

Julie, I'm setting your Jdate profile to public.

Yes, I made you a Jdate profile.

I got our supplies for lift‐off.

There's buckets for vomiting, yoga mats for lounging,

palm fronds for waving.

And, Wendy, I got you a ThunderShirt

in case you freak out again.

Ooh, sweet tea.

Mm.

Does this sweet tea taste funny?

Is something wrong with that sweet tea?

That's the weirdest tea I ever tasted.

What is that taste? Yeah.

I want to say lemon?

BOTH: Hmm.

Uh‐uh. It's definitely not lemon.

It's like persimmon, but the finish is smoky.

Okay, you are all so dumb. Let me see.

Chamomile.

Chamomile? Yes.

I don't think that's chamomile.

It's too tart for chamomile. Oh, no, she's right.

It's chamomile. Thank you.

Really? It's chamomile.

I guess that's chamomile. That might be chamomile.

Yeah, for sure. It's chamomile.

Now I can taste it. It's chamomile.

I know my chamomile.

You are correct. It is chamomile, Marilyn.

Of course I am, Arthur. Chamomile.

Chamomile. Okay, I can taste it now.

I know because I love chamomile.

Has anyone seen my pitcher?

Oh, the chamomile tea. We just drank it.

Could we make you another pitcher?

No! No, you can't, you fuckos!

That was ayahuasca.

Wait a minute. What is ayahuasca?

It's expensive, is what it is.

You dicklicks owe us $1,100.

Come on, girls, let's go.

Somebody call 911. They gotta pump our stomachs.

No, no, no, do not call the cops.

I have jerked off to enough episodes of "Locked Up Abroad"

to know that if you call the cops to report an overdose,

they're just gonna come and arrest us

for having illegal drugs.

Yes, officer, there are five of us.

We've all taken ayahuasca.

I'll describe my daughter first.

Did you ever see the nosy neighbor in "Small Wonder"?

Well, picture her today 40 years old

with a spotty sexual past.

Hi, I'm sorry. I'm a crazy old woman.

I dialed the wrong number. Mayor Bloomberg, Trump Tower.

Good‐bye. Okay, okay.

I found a step‐by‐step guide to ayahuasca

on Miley Cyrus' fan page.

Step one, small waves of euphoria.

All right, well, that's exactly how I feel

every time I see the ending of "Prince of Tides"

or when I look in a mirror.

Step two, violent constant vomiting.

Okay. BOTH: "Smash" season two.

Step three, anxiety,

but that only lasts about 15 minutes.

Like the pre‐show jitters.

Okay, I'll just do the breathing exercises

that Michael Feinstein taught me to do

for when my mouth is full but someone's plugging my nostrils.

And finally, eight to ten hours

of emotional, revelatory hallucinations

that confront you with your deepest inner truth.

ALL: Oh, shit!

So now we get to go see "Chicago."

I am not downgrading from ayahuasca to watching

some washed‐up TV actress sing "All That Jazz."

Sisters, I don't feel right leaving them alone

to trip without a guide.

It doesn't seem very Sigma Delta Burka.

I will not play shaman to those fucking assholes.

They stole our drugs. Ritual medicine.

We can start them on their journey.

Once we know they'll be fine, we'll go.

Never forget the Sigma Delta Burka pledge.

ALL: Always help others and never go on CNN

to discuss Caitlyn Jenner.

Fine, okay. Let's go back.

[rock music]

Breathe in and breathe out.

[groans]

This is now a sacred space.

[retches]

Begging pardons.

[retches]

Just let it go.

[chanting]

[all chanting]

[phone rings]

MAN: You have 10,704 new messages.

MAN: Why did you stop making "Mr. Selfridge"?

We need closure.

WOMAN: And come on, Arthur. Jupiter, Florida?

MAN: What happened to your hopes and dreams?

WOMAN: Why do you bother, Arthur?

MAN: Why do you Arthur bother?

[Kenny Rogers "Just Dropped in" begins]

♪ ♪

ROGERS: ♪ Yeah, yeah, oh yeah ♪

♪ What condition my condition was in ♪

♪ I woke up this morning ♪

♪ With the sundown shining in ♪

♪ I found my mind in a brown paper bag within ♪

♪ I tripped on a cloud and fell‐a eight miles high ♪

♪ I tore my mind on a jagged sky ♪

♪ I just dropped in to see what condition... ♪

Noodles, we're in that movie you made me watch.

Shh. You're ruining it.

Like so many other dudes have done

over the years by quoting it.

ROGERS: ♪ Was in ♪

♪ ♪

♪ I pushed my soul in a deep dark hole ♪

♪ And then I followed it in ♪

♪ I watched myself crawling out as I was... ♪

Are you taking control of my trip?

I'm the destination.

ROGERS: ♪ I got up so tight I couldn't unwind... ♪

My job doesn't matter.

I do it to take care of you.

[retching]

Enough about "Chicago" all right?

It's never gonna close. You can see it anytime.

That's easy for you to say. You live here.

I suggested "Chicago" months ago.

Do you guys even read my emails?

Wendy, nobody reads your emails.

They're too long. Way too long.

I don't need your cat recipes.

[sobbing]

This lady's burning up.

[sobbing]

[tribal music]

♪ ♪

[classical music plays]

Marilyn, Marilyn, Marilyn,

you are you.

♪ ♪

Anything catch your eye, Marilyn?

There's nothing here. I don't know what to do.

But you're Marilyn.

Just bring Marilyn to everything you Marilyn.

♪ ♪

Marilyn.

♪ ♪

Thank Marilyn you wrote this Marilyn.

♪ ♪

Marilyn had writer's block

till Marilyn remembered she's Marilyn.

Thank you, Marilyn.

[playing discordant notes]

♪ ♪

♪ Marilyn ♪

♪ Marilyn is Marilyn ♪

♪ Marilyn is Marilyn ♪

♪ Marilyn is Marilyn ♪

♪ Marilyn is Marilyn ♪

♪ Hey‐ay ♪

♪ Marilyn ♪

[laughing]

[sobbing]

[laughing]

I'm just saying, there are edgier shows

on Broadway than "Chicago."

Don't be a snob.

Oh, Matthew's going in deep.

Hi. Really deep.

Oh, hi.

[orchestral music]

♪ ♪

[all retching]

I spend all year around these people I hate.

This is the one weekend I actually look forward to,

'cause you bitches mean something to me.

Aww, Lo.

So if seeing "Chicago" means that much to you,

let's go see it. I don't wanna fight.

[all cheering]

I love you, girls.

ALL: Awww.

The following was filmed

in front of a live studio audience.

MALE ANNOUNCER: On May 18th,

Billy Epstein was asked to remove himself

from his place of residence.

That request came from Northwestern University.

With nowhere else to go,

he appeared at the home of New York City.

Whoa‐oh‐oh! What's up, roomie?

Put it there, buddy.

ANNOUNCER: Can one gay man live with New York City

without driving each other crazy?

[audience applauds]

[women moaning on TV]

Mm, that's good. That's good and that's good.

[audience chuckles] New York, get off my bed.

Where else am I gonna whack it to cream pie videos

and eat mozzarella sticks, huh?

These cost, like, 78 bucks.

No really, I just worked a double shift.

I need to take a nap.

Um, Billy, maybe you didn't get the memo.

I'm the city that never sleeps.

Well, could you also be the city that takes a shower?

What is that smell? Rat cum.

Look, we've had some good times,

and I will always love you, but I need some space.

Space? Okay, let's go to Central Park.

Come on, there will be like 87,000 tourists there.

Someone will throw a football at your head.

It's a given.

Oh, how 'bout we go to the movie theater?

You know, the one with the bedbugs?

Oh wait, they all have bedbugs. Open.

Open. There you go.

[muffled screaming]

[laughs] [muffled screaming]

Would this be the wrong time to tell you

that our rent just went up?

Ugh!

Julie! Oh, thank God.

I was stuck in a re‐reboot of "The Odd Couple."

It was a nightmare.

I mean, not as bad as the Matthew Perry thing,

but, wait, why are you in my trip?

I actually think you're in mine,

because I definitely don't own this dress.

Cool! We're tripping together.

[drum roll]

♪ Julie ♪

♪ Isn't it nice making mice out of velvet and wire ♪

♪ Just throw all my dreams in the fire ♪

♪ Julie, for once I'm not stressed ♪

♪ See it's just me and Etsy, don't spoil it ♪

♪ Flush my career down the toilet ♪

♪ Think of the Whos down in Whoville ♪

♪ All happy and singing ♪

♪ I'm thinking of grasping and clinging ♪

BOTH: ♪ Maybe it's just who I am ♪

♪ What's a life ♪

♪ Without pushing and clawing and striving ♪

♪ Come on Julie, you're barely surviving ♪

♪ On your way but you're never arriving ♪

♪ What a waste ♪

♪ All those improv and open mic hours ♪

♪ You mean crying and screaming and showers ♪

♪ Well it's better than macramé hammocks ♪

♪ And pipe cleaner flowers ♪

♪ Julie ♪

♪ God never sends us a challenge ♪

♪ He thinks we can't handle ♪

♪ Oh go fuck a nice scented candle ♪

♪ Julie ♪

[screaming]

Die! Die, you dumb, happy bitch!

I am so glad we unintentionally did ayahuasca.

Yeah, I learned so much about myself.

Me too. BOTH: Shut up, Matthew.

Are you still thinking about moving to L. A.?

Why? Do you think I should?

I can't answer that. That has to be your choice.

Are you still thinking about giving up show business

to keep crafting?

Does that sound dumb?

I can't answer that.

It has to be your choice.

Okay, let's both answer at the same time.

Am I going to craft and be happy

or stay miserable pursuing a comedy career?

And I actually gonna go to L. A. and leave New York?

One, two, three.

I'm gonna leave. I'm gonna stay.

I'm just scared to find out what would happen to me

if I actually became happy. And I'm scared to find out

what would happen to me if I didn't leave New York.

Okay, let's get you an apartment in L. A.

Let's go get you that audition back.

[upbeat rock music]

Am I the only one who's so horny?

♪ ♪

BOTH: I think it's worn off.

I need to erase that voicemail so I can un‐quit.

Who cares?

I need to write the greatest book ever written.

And forget to drink plenty of fluids

and take folic acid, and go see "Chicago."

Turns out it's still running for a reason.

You know, we learned more about ourselves

watching Patrick Warburton sing "All I Care About is Love"

than we ever would have tripping our tits off

some Peruvian herb.

[cheerful music]

♪ ♪

Thank you for letting me come back.

I missed this audition yesterday because, well,

I've been trying for a long time to get happy,

and I've tried everything:

medication, meditation, facial filler.

But the one thing that worked was giving up

on the only thing I've always known I've wanted to do.

Look, I may not be a great performer,

and because I do comedy,

I will always be on the misery spectrum,

but this is what I do, and this is who I am.

I am an unhappy person,

but the alternative is being somebody I don't know,

and that is terrifying.

So I made a decision.

I am happy to be unhappy. Thank you.

This isn't a casting office, is it?

You're back, Marilyn. You are back.

All right, stay in the flow.

♪ Marilyn, Marilyn, Marilyn, Marilyn ♪

Maybe I should have a treat.

I deserve an ice cube.

Then I'll get this done.

WOMAN: Friday, 3:55 P. M.

MAN: I hate Charlie Rose's new hair part.

It's too rock and roll. Change it back!

WOMAN: Next message. Friday, 3:56 P. M.

ARTHUR: Gaby, it's Arthur. You want voicemail?

Here's a fucking voicemail. I quit, you goddamn‐‐

ROGERS: ♪ Yeah, yeah ♪

♪ Oh yeah ♪

Arrivederci, crafty Julie.

Rinsed off too many garbage can chocolate bars

to know what I can't keep in my house.

Well, let's hurry this up.

This block is bringing back too many sweet New York Memories

of all the anonymous sex I've had behind this dumpster.

How's your L. A. apartment search going?

Ugh, I can't search until I get approval

from one of these L. A. apartment listing websites.

I had to send them a link to my IMDB page,

plus seven references, including two from Scientologists.

Well, I could fake Juliette Lewis's signature.

I just need three muscle relaxers and a crayon.

MAN: Oh!

♪ Thought it'd be easy ♪

♪ Thought they didn't know ♪

♪ You thought it was the only way to go ♪

♪ ♪

♪ Another way out ♪

♪ Found on the way home ♪

♪ Thought you were living fast ♪

♪ But you were living slow ♪

♪ ♪

WOMAN: La la la. Oh, my God.