Original subtitles

- So anyway, of course now the guy's on top of me

going at it, you know.

T-shirt's still on 'cause his breasts

are bigger than mine...

And I told him... what?

I was jealous.

So anyway, the dummy starts asking me questions.

"Are you close? Are you close?"

I'm like, "Yeah. Yeah.

"I'm close. I'm close.

"I'm close to getting a buzzcut, a flannel shirt,

and finally accepting Melissa Etheridge's dinner invite!"

I'm still Deborah Vance.

Goodnight, Las Vegas!

- Great show. - Thank you.

Love these new heels.

Yeah, let's use them this Friday night,

but let's put a little tread on the bottom.

- Copy. - I almost slipped.

I knew these earrings were gonna be too heavy.

Great show.

- I was right.

- Towel? - No thanks, sweetie.

So Bill, how'd they do?

- Didn't cover the fuckin' spread.

I'm out two grand.

- Hoo-hoo. Good luck with Beverly.

You sleep on the couch more than my dogs do.

- Hey, Deb. - Lookin' good, ladies.

- They want us wheels up in 25. - I'll be quick.

- And after the taping tomorrow,

I got QVC to give us a studio space

to shoot the Christmas album cover.

- Ooh, love it.

- Also, Damien has some historic news.

- EBay is my bitch. - No.

- The Verdure tapestry is yours.

Yes!

That's what I like to hear.

- Great show, Deb. - Thanks, baby.

- Car's out front. - Okay.

Let's party.

Aww, did you like the show? I'm so sorry.

We're running late to the airport.

Thank you so much.

Love you guys.

Love you guys. Mwah.

- Look at the veining.

Wow, this rose marble.

- Look at the detail in that crystal work.

It's like a million little winks.

- I've never found glass handles like this

on any bath caddy that I have ever used.

- Very intentional.

I am hearing that we have sold out once again.

My goodness!

We are a team. That's incredible.

Someone's been a bad boy.

Have you been a bad boy? - Ho, ho, ho.

He called me a ho.

- Have you been naughty or nice?

- Goodnight, Ronnie.

Dinner's ready!

There you are, my darlings.

There you go.

- You know how I'm redoing the casino's east tower?

Yeah.

- So the contractor double orders everything.

- Ooh.

- And what the hell am I supposed to do

with two tons of fertilizer?

- Dump it on Steve Wynn's doorstep.

Ha! Bingo.

- Come on. You set me up.

- Deb, 2,500 shows.

Now, I think it's a Vegas record.

- It is.

- Well, then cheers. - Cheers.

- And they're naming a street after you.

- I know. Deborah Vance Drive.

It'll probably be a dead end

with an abortion clinic on it.

Now that the big show's all planned,

maybe it's a good time to talk about the future.

You know you'll always be a part

of the Palmetto's history,

but maybe it'd be good

if you did a few less shows a year.

- Good for who?

Yeah.

I need some marquee dates

for new acts,

like Pentatonix.

- What the hell is that?

- They're a beatbox-forward a cappella group.

They do medleys.

They won "The Sing-Off."

- Who gives a shit?

- Look, I have two buckets to fill:

families and idiots in their 20s.

The families want to see singing and dancing,

and the college kids want to spend a grand

to watch a guy in a helmet hit play on an iPod.

- You're forgetting about your third bucket,

people from Florida.

They love me, and my numbers are strong.

- You'll still be doing shows,

just not Friday and Saturday.

Just the most important nights.

Un-fucking-believable.

- Deb, why do you even want

to do a hundred-plus shows a year?

It's not like you're having fun.

I mean, you're on cruise control up there.

- I fucking wish! - All right.

- I wish I was on cruise control.

I've been playing defense my entire career

thanks to assholes like you!

- Deborah, calm down please. - What do you care?

You own the place, and the service sucks.

- Great.

- Where's my fucking doggy bag?

- Okay, all right.

- I'll take his too. - Okay.

- And the fork!

There was a cockroach in my salad!

- Shit.

Comp everybody. - Okay.

- I guess I should just jump out the window.

- Well, you'd probably just break your legs

because there's that 12th floor terrace,

but... if you're seriously thinking of hurting yourself...

- I'm not.

Plus, I've told you how I would kill myself

a million times. - Yeah.

- I'd wear a suicide vest on...

"Watch What Happens Live."

- Very funny. - Y... you can't get me

a meeting to write on anything.

I... I'm just done because of one mistake?

- Well, it was one mistake and then a series of replies

where you doubled downed, Ava.

- I didn't do anything wrong.

- Here, you're dripping on the leather.

I just got those chairs. It was a whole thing.

I had to get approvals.

Look, you know I love your strong female POV. Obsessed.

But maybe in the future,

you don't need to say exactly how you're feeling

about everything at all times.

My God.

I'm sorry if I was unfiltered

and honest or whatever,

but that's literally what

people like about my writing.

Now... now all of a sudden, it's a problem?

I mean, where's the line?

- I don't know, okay?

All I do know is you need to lay low for a while.

- Yeah, I can't lay low. I need to work.

You know I send money to my parents,

and I just bought a house.

- I thought it was a townhouse.

- Yeah, well, it cost as much as a house house.

- I hate to say this, but maybe you should consider selling it.

- I have. I can't immediately re-list it.

I'm gonna lose a shit ton of money.

My realtor accidentally CCd me on an email

where she said she got me a bad deal.

- Oof. Email's tricky.

This is probably

just residual Catholic guilt bullshit,

but I... I can't help feeling

that this is all punishment for getting fingered

at my Uncle Rocco's wake.

- Okay, great example of what I'm talking about, Ava.

I never need to know where you've been fingered.

- You don't know where a woman gets fingered?

- Ava.

Please, I'm really trying here, okay?

I've called everybody,

but I'm sorry.

Nobody seems interested in helping you right now.

Also, don't vape in here.

- It's not... - It's all glass.

Just vape outside. Wait one minute.

- This is so unfair.

- Would a hug make you feel better?

I can't technically touch you without someone else present.

We had a meeting about it, but...

Hi, dude.

- Hi.

- Um, you told me to, like, interrupt you

when more important clients call,

and Deborah Vance is on the line

and, like, she's not, like, as important.

So I'm just, like, kinda giving you a heads up.

- Kayla, can you set her up somewhere comfortable, please?

- Absolutely. Follow me, chica.

- We're right in the middle of something.

- Deborah, perfect timing.

How are you, my favorite client?

- Fucking Pentatonix!

Did you know about this, Jimmy?

- Do I know the Pentatonix? Y... yes, love 'em.

I voted for 'em on "The Sing-Off."

- Marty wants to cut my dates.

He blindsided me at lunch, the dick-less snake.

He says he needs to appeal to a younger crowd.

You gotta do something about this, Jimmy.

- Okay, I will call Morty.

- Marty!

- Marty, yes. But um, I have a pitch.

What if you hire a writer?

I actually represent a very in-demand young woman.

She wrote for a hit show,

nominated for an Emmy almost,

everybody is talking about her.

- I write my own material.

I do not need a writer.

I need a manager.

- Your father would've handled this.

He promised me you'd take care of me.

Don't make your dead father a liar, Jimmy.

So that was Deborah Vance,

and I have incredible news.

She is intrigued

by the idea of you writing jokes for her.

The QVC muumuu lady?

- They're caftans.

- Didn't she, like,

burn her husband's house down?

- Yes.

- Yeah, no fucking way. - She's a legend.

She's one of the biggest earners at this company,

and you just said you need to work, so...

- I do, but come on.

I'm not gonna go write knock-knock jokes

about how men don't put the toilet seat down.

I'm not that desperate.

- Respectfully, as your manager,

right now, you are that desperate.

- I know you think you've called everyone,

but I actually have a lot of friends who will help me,

so I guess I'll just handle this on my own.

- Ava, come on.

- Girly, do you need validation?

- Yeah. - God.

Crap, girl. That's gonna take me a minute.

- That's fine. Don't worry about it.

- Bill, can you get Kelly to help me?

- What the hell?

- Damien!

I need you to go to the computer store!

Shit.

- Yeah, he's an actor.

He says he's shooting some Richard Linklater movie,

but I guess we won't know if that's true

- for, like, 20 years. - My God.

Hey, Taylor.

- Ava, hey.

- How are you? It's been forever.

How's, the husband?

- Mark? - Yeah.

- He's my ex-husband now.

Fuck... him then.

His loss, obviously.

- Thank you.

- Hi.

- Okay. Ava, this is my mom.

We're actually just having lunch

before she heads back to the airport.

- My God. - Your mom?

No, impossible.

Your sister. Look at that skin.

Get this bitch on Raya!

My God.

So congrats on season two.

So cool. Are... are you guys hiring?

Not even thinking about that yet.

- Really?

'Cause I heard you're taking meetings,

and I would love to work with you.

I mean, you know, obviously I've been going through a lot,

and I could really use a job.

- Ma'am, you're blocking the driveway

to Tommy Hilfiger.

- No, that's... - That's not mine.

I don't drive. I don't have a car.

- I saw you do it.

You're holding the keys.

- Ava, why don't we just talk next week, kay?

- You know, I would love to,

but you haven't really responded

to any of my texts or emails,

so I would just love to talk right now.

Okay, fine.

Ava, I can't hire you. Okay?

I'm sorry, but I have to protect the show.

- I'm just gonna get that.

- No, I got it. I'm going.

So I make one stupid joke, and everyone just turns on me?

This is so fucked up.

I thought we were friends. - Did you?

Because you barely talked to me

until I got a show so...

- I don't remember it that way.

- Yeah, I'm sure you don't.

Listen, I know this seems like the worst thing in the world,

but it's really not.

- Hey!

Move your shit-box car, bitch,

or I'll fucking kill you!

- I'm sorry.

You really do have amazing skin.

Deborah?

- Yes?

I'm sorry to bother you...

Your sister's on the phone.

- How the hell did she get my number?

No.

- Beloved entertainer and producer, Frank Vance,

died today at the age of 74 in his Monterey home.

Vance's career began in 1973

with the CBS sitcom "Who's Making Dinner?"

which he starred in with his then-wife, Deborah Vance.

The couple made headlines when they divorced

after Deborah Vance set fire...

- I can't believe they used that photo.

- Do you wanna maybe take tonight off?

- Why would I do that?

Ladies, have you ever noticed

that men seem to feel entitled

to sex on their birthday?

No, thanks. You know, a word of advice.

Next time, marry a guy born on leap day.

You know what I mean?

You know, a leap day,

leap year every four years.

Yeah, never mind.

- Hey. - Hey.

- Have a good night.

- Hey.

- What?

- Wait, do you have a condom?

- Um, I think so.

- You look so hot. - I have one somewhere.

Shit.

- Why would they put the kitchen shit up here?

- Shit. - Is that a Vitamix?

- Hello? - Hey.

I tried you a few times last night.

- Sorry. - I was fucking my Postmate.

- Okay, I'm going to choose to ignore that.

So Deborah wants to meet.

I know you don't think she's cool,

but I really think you should reconsider.

- Hey, mama. - You know, it's a job.

Work begets work. I know you really need

something right now, so I don't know.

I think it could be worth it if you just give it a try.

- I'll do it.

- Really? That's great.

Okay, um, could you meet today?

- All right, fine.

Do I have to go all the way to Beverly Hills or something?

- Um...

No.

- Welcome to Las Vegas, Nevada.

The current temperature is 111 degrees.

- Jimmy. - Hey, hey, Marcus.

How's my favorite CEO?

COO, yes.

Chief Operating Officer. You go off, king.

Um, listen. I need a favor.

- How scared should I be?

- Look, I'm sending a writer to Las Vegas,

but Deborah is unaware.

You know if she wants to keep her dates,

she's gotta do something.

It could be good.

It could be good.

It could be bad, but it could be good.

- Holy shit.

- We need a wealth tax.

Hi.

- You can wait in here.

Would you like something to drink while you wait?

We have coffee, tea, iced tea, lemonade, Diet Coke,

regular Coke, Coke Zero, Tab...

- Um, I'll just... I'll just take a water.

- Okay.

We have Pellegrino, Perrier,

Acqua Panna, Voss...

- I'll just take tap.

- The Acqua Panna is the best.

- Okay, I'll have that.

- Okay.

Deborah, a girl is here

from Jimmy, a redhead.

- What?

- Okay, Jimmy did send that writer.

- That little shit. - I know, but listen,

we may be able to use this to stall Marty on the dates.

It's just for optics.

Just sit down with her.

- Hi, I'm Ava. It's so nice to meet...

- Sit, sit.

- You know, I've actually never been to Vegas.

Do you ever get used to this heat?

- Yes.

So Jimmy tells me that you're a very talented...

- No, let go of it! Mom!

Mom, they're being insane. They're not letting me leave.

- Sorry, apparently, she won't let Josefina see.

- My God. - There's nothing in here.

- Give.

- Fine.

You see the shit I gotta put up with?

Unbelievable.

They're antibiotics.

I've got a fuckin' UTI, okay, everybody?

I'm so sorry I didn't feel like broadcasting

to the whole world, but you got me.

You got me, detectives.

I need relief

from my horrific urethra pain, okay?

Everybody happy now?

- Not happy, no.

- Just glad to see you're

getting your fluids, sweetheart.

You'll have to excuse her.

She has a UTI.

- That's fine.

And her father just died.

- My God. - I'm so sorry.

Are... are you okay?

- Me? Thrilled.

So why are you here?

Um, well, obviously

it would be a huge honor

to work with someone like you

who's been working so...

successfully for so long.

I mean, you're a legend.

- Wow, a legend. - Yeah.

- So you're a fan?

- I mean, of course. Would I be here if I wasn't?

- What's your favorite joke of mine?

Man, you know...

That's so hard.

- Well, it shouldn't be.

I've written over 30,000. Just pick one.

You know what?

I would have to say that your TV show

is my personal favorite thing that you've ever done.

- You mean my sitcom from 1973?

You've seen it?

Yeah.

I mean I've... yeah, I've seen...

Um, clips.

- Clips?

Wonderful.

Yeah, well, um, you know,

a lot of the actors on the show

that I most recently worked on were stand-ups...

- You know, I'm gonna stop you right there.

I don't work with writers.

- You don't? - No.

Jimmy sent you against my wishes.

- I'm gonna kill him.

- No, I'm gonna kill him.

- Great, well, this sucks.

- Yeah, this sucks.

Well, but at least you didn't waste too much time

researching me.

- I'm sorry.

Did I do something to offend you?

- Other than walk those chimney sweep boots on my silk rug?

Um, no.

- Sorry, I...

I didn't realize it was a shoes-off situation.

- Well, it's shoe-dependent.

Thank you for your time.

Good luck with your career, honey.

- Fucking bitch.

- Excuse me.

Did you have something else to say?

- Yeah.

You've just been pretty rude,

and I dropped everything to come here.

Christ.

You wanted a gold star just for showing up.

- Kinda, yeah.

Because you're right.

I'm not a fan of yours.

You caught me.

This is all just a little fucking annoying

because I flew all the way here

on Spirit fucking Airlines

even though I didn't want this job in the first place.

I mean, the last thing on Earth

I want to do is move to the desert

to write some lame jokes for an old hack.

- I think you better leave. - Yeah.

- Can I show you to the door,

or would you like to go back up the chimney?

- No. - I know my way out.

By the way, so cool

they let you move into a Cheesecake Factory.

Is that where you wait tables?

- That seems like a better fit. - Yeah.

I agree, you classist monster.

I'd rather sling Bang Bang Chicken and Shrimp

all day than work here.

I mean, fuck. What is this?

50 tassels on one couch?

Even Liberace would think it's a bit much.

- No, you're incorrect. - He actually loved it.

He did poppers on that couch in '85.

Cool.

I'm glad Liberace's butthole

was nice and loose in your house.

Maybe you should've joined him

since yours is obviously tight as fuck.

Hey, before I leave,

did you want to inspect my bag?

Maybe I should just piss in a cup.

You know what? I'm gonna go ahead.

I'm just gonna leave a stool sample on your lawn.

Okay.

Why are you really here?

If you're so "in demand,"

why are you meeting with me?

- Because I can't get any other job, okay?

I tweeted a joke about that closeted senator

who's sending his son to conversion therapy camp

or whatever, and everybody freaked out.

And then some other asshole dug up some stupid shit I said

when I was, like, 20 years old, and I lost my deal.

And now no one will hire me, including you apparently.

So yeah, my life is pretty much ruined.

Your life is ruined.

Please, it sounds like a Tuesday for me.

Besides, you're just a writer. No one cares.

- Well, actually, people really do care.

It's been a huge fucking problem for me.

So what was it?

This joke that supposedly ruined your life.

I gotta hear it.

Senator Rogers is upset

because he found out his kid is gay.

Apparently, he heard it from one of the guys

he was sucking off in the Senate cloak room.

Yeah, I... I don't even do jokes like that.

I was just trying to call him out for being a hypocrite

because he was caught with a male escort.

It didn't help that it was a slow news day,

but I... I guess I crossed a line or whatever.

- Honey, no. - There is no line.

It's just not funny.

I mean, you should be blacklisted

for how bad that joke is.

- Cool, thank you so much for having me.

I'm glad we did this.

I am starting to see why your husband left you

for your own sister now.

Buh-bye.

My God.

Holy shit.

What is she doing?

What the fuck?

My God.

- Sending your son to the woods

with a bunch of other horny, gay teens.

The only thing you're gonna convert him to

is from a top to a bottom.

- Okay?

- Now, that's a better joke.

My God. That's why you almost just killed me?

- Wait, wait, wait. No, no, no. We keep it on the dad.

Senator Rogers has been in the closet so long,

his wife keeps trying to donate him to Goodwill.

- Okay, to be clear, these are all problematic,

but what if it's something like Senator Rogers

has been in the closet so long, all his friends are mothballs?

- Mothballs.

Senator Rogers has been in the closet so long,

he shits mothballs.

- Yeah, that's pretty good. - Yeah, that's it. That's it.

- Okay, um, can I go now?

- No. No, you're hired.

- Wait, what?

I said I didn't want the job.

- Yeah, well, you need it.

Write me 20 jokes before tomorrow morning.

And nothing about pantyhose or the Challenger explosion.

I've done 'em all.

- What the fuck just happened?