Original subtitles

*ROOM 104* Season 02 Episode 12

*ROOM 104* Episode Title: "Josie & Me"

Sync corrections by srjanapala

OK, I'm back.

I can tell you're not really working, bitch.

I know about iMessage for the computer.

That's how I failed to absorb the last month of my gov seminar.

Was that what you were wearing?

I just got out of my stats midterm.

- Was that relevant? - I don't know, bitch.

Was it relevant? This is the 500th time you've made me do this.

Maybe that's the detail that finally makes sense to you.

Oh, also, I broke my pencil lead in the exam,

and I had to get get a refill, so I had to click it

really loudly for like 30 seconds,

and that stress might have damaged my psyche.

Also, I had a chicken Caesar salad for dinner.

I couldn't quite make out the expiration date on the dressing,

so I may be battling the early stages of E. coli.

Is that relevant?

Oh my God! I forgot what an asshole I was.

No stone I'm just trying to make sure that

is left unturned for the great wise elder.

The sooner you get this done, the sooner you can get on with your life.

I'm really shitting my pants

in anticipation of getting here.

Well, you should, because you're a writer now.

A playwright. There. I'll tell you that much.

Sick! Does that mean I don't have to go to law school?

Well, you might, if you don't crack this story

and your agent drops you and you get blacklisted from the entire industry,

which is why I actually need you to work with me right now.

OK?

I'm sorry, um...

I'm just trying to figure this out,

and I'm missing something.

OK, well, for the record,

this is what I was wearing that day.

This is what I would call the "dress for success" model.

I read this article before I took the SATs,

and it said that if you dress professionally before an exam,

you'll subliminally make yourself more confident and do better.

I've been doing it ever since. I got a 2370, as you know,

and I'm pretty sure I just knocked my stats midterm out of the park.

Anyway, that's what I was wearing. Not that it matters.

It matters to me.

Can you please just go through it one more time?

Please? For me?

Just guide me through each step of the night.

Fine.

OK, get up.

Just take me through it from the beginning

like I've never heard it before.

You sound like a dirty cop.

- You ready? - Yeah.

- OK. - Let's go.

This is about to be the perfect Friday night.

Everybody just finished their first midterms,

so they're either super-stoked on themselves

for being the brilliant little prodigies they were always told they were,

or they're morbidly depressed and they need to drink their pain away.

Everyone spent the last two weeks in the library,

so they're gonna have all this repressed energy they need to release,

and that can only be done by getting into a cramped space

and touching each other.

Oh no! Did I not tell you that

the "dress for success" model can be modified

to fit a variety of applications?

You are not nearly as charming as you think you are.

And do you know that every time

you interrupt me it slows down the process?

Oh. Emily's coming.

I'm not going out tonight.

- Then why are you dressed like that? - It's comfortable.

You're wearing a strapless bra. Comfortable strapless bras don't exist.

You're coming out with me.

Hold, please.

Sorry, I just quickly want to address

a misconception about smart girls.

I think people think their precious daughters

recoil at the scent of alcohol, or if they come home drunk

it's because someone poured liquor down their throat.

But in reality, no other group of people

can get a girl drunk faster and with more efficacy than other girls.

Can we please just do shots?

I'm really close to hitting my calorie limit.

I'll set you up.

What do you want?

I'll just have some OJ.

- Getting soft in your old age? - OK. Just surprise me.

Hm. Some girls like vodka and cranberry juice,

and some girls like rum and orange juice,

but by far the most popular pregame mixer

has gotta be the crippling dietary restrictions and body image issues

that we are unable to shed until we're wasted

and we order and consume an entire cheese pizza in 15 minutes.

Cheers.

Thank you.

So you're not gonna hook up with Derek tonight.

Oh, my God. Why would you even ask that?

- It's not a question. - Of course not.

- I'm so done. - That's what you said last week.

His name is Derek. That's like the Kmart version of Eric.

You are so mean.

So is he! You can't be mean and ugly.

You know what? I heard that Sean-in-Beta thinks you're hot.

I thought Beta-Sean was gay.

Oh my God! Do you think that because he showers every day?

Just focus on Beta-Sean, and I assure you,

you will forget all about Derek.

Fine! Fine.

We're gonna go and see what it's like,

and if it's fun, it's fun,

and if it's not fun, we'll leave.

Totally. But finish your drink.

Got enough info for your little play?

Jesus Christ.

Sorry.

So, I know what you're thinking.

Why am I standing here freezing my ass off outside a fuckin' frat

waiting for some idiots to deign to let me in

so I can join in on the unmitigated swamp of booze and testosterone?

Why am I, a modern woman, a card-carrying feminist,

subjecting myself to this war zone?

Don't I know it's kind of hypocritical

to voluntarily subject myself

to the moral, physical,

and psychological degradation that comes with that?

Maybe.

But I do it anyway.

Why, you ask? Have I completely lost my mind?

Because I want to.

Yes!

Nobody here knows that I am a gender studies minor.

I spend all day being critical and discerning

and posting liberal Facebook rants,

but no one's dragging me here, ya know?

I come here of my own volition,

to let loose and dance badly and kiss boys.

It can be nice to forget who you're supposed to be.

Thank you, Santa.

One of the frats puts blood thinners in there to get you drunk faster.

Sorry, one of the frats allegedly puts blood

thinners in it to get you drunk faster.

One of the frats allegedly has their pledges pee in it before serving.

Oh, my God, unclench. OK?

And that's not this. This is just bad.

Besides, this is my third year here,

I know how to keep my shit together, right?

Unlike Becky here.

You're in my socy class!

You have such pretty hair.

Hey, where are your friends?

I don't know, but can you be my friend, maybe?

I thought I already was your friend.

Oh, my God!

Okay, Hi!

Are you hungry?

- Can we get a pizza? - Let's definitely do that.

- Can you help me out here? - Of course. Where do you live?

Bradford? Oh, my God,

it's so shitty. My roommate is such a fake.

Let's go.

Oh, my God, like, I'm not judging, but...

OK, I'm judging a little bit.

I'm just saying that this is not my first rodeo.

Hey, Josie.

Hey, fancy meeting you guys here.

You missed a great time last night.

Oh, yeah, well,

I did, actually, like, have to study.

That's kind of the thing about graduating in four years,

- you have to do that. - Can't relate.

Wanna play pong?

Obviously.

So there actually is something you can help me with.

And you're old, so you might see something that I don't.

Here's my dilemma.

Over here, that's Donovan, he is very stupid,

but he kinda has this douchey-hot thing going for him,

like a douchebag was surgically implanted into a ten-foot-tall child.

But his dad is super-loaded,

so he could kinda come in handy

for a non-disgusting sugar daddy

to support me while I'm becoming a writer.

So he's a great option, ya know?

And then over here we have Jon.

Jon will probably make zero dollars outta graduation

working for Greenpeace or some shit,

but he has this kind of self-flagellating brand

of questionably authentic male feminism

which indicates to me that he definitely eats pussy,

which is like finding a diamond in a pile of horseshit.

It's just a really rare commodity in this economy.

So, ya know, they're both great options.

You see my dilemma. What should I do?

Uh, uh, well, I think, um...

Um, sorry I shouldn't have asked. You're completely useless.

I'm just gonna go home with one of them, so I guess place your bets?

- Hey! - Ahh!

Right this way, my lady.

Donovan rushes ahead right out the gate.

Jon is the dark horse. Will he give up entirely?

Will he sulk and pick up an unsuspecting freshman

with a sob story about how, as a sensitive frat boy,

he's really disgusted with the behavior of his peers?

Only time will tell.

That kid is gay as fuck.

Oh, no. Are we still using that as an insult?

Don't you guys have a rainbow flag in your window?

Yeah, I mean, I support his right to be gay as fuck 100%.

Oh, God. He's managed to disappoint me before he even pulled out his dick.

Oh!

Oh...

I know whose Animal House poster

I'm getting fingered under tonight.

Wait. I actually have to worry more about appearances,

because it doesn't take much to get you labeled as a slut around here.

Qualifiers include but are not limited to

showing an interest in sex before midnight. Hmm.

Do you ever think about just leaving? You're wasted.

No. To leave would be to admit to everyone that I'm... what is the word?

Mature.

- Wait. - Oh, my God, what?

- Is that a karaoke machine? - Yeah,

I think the theme was supposed to be eighties. But...

Nobody here is dressed in a theme.

I guess if there was a theme, you could call it

"Battle of the girls who are skinny enough to wear crop-tops

versus the girls who can't, and are salty about it."

You could totally wear a crop-top.

No, I couldn't, and I don't want to anyway.

Yeah, you could.

You could wear a high-waisted legging with a control top

and then just show a sliver of your belly.

If you can drink six beers and still suck in your stomach,

like, go for it.

This is the time to do it.

Hell, yeah! Go topless, even!

- Free the nipple. - Tits out!

- It's called empowerment. - Yeah, man.

I'll show you empowerment.

Sorry.

♪ You are the fuel, I'm the light ♪

♪ You light a match and I watch it ignite ♪

♪ We gonna fly... ♪ You know the lyrics, shit!

♪ We gonna fly till we h-hit the ground ♪

♪ Can you feel it, in the night ♪

♪ Like the floor's on fire, like the floor's on fire ♪

♪ Can you feel it ♪

♪ Hotter than the sun ♪

♪ Like the floor's on fire ♪

♪ Like the floor's on fire ♪

Dance break!

♪ Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh ♪

♪ When you fly ♪

♪ Oh yeah ♪

Do you feel it, feel it?

Can you feel it?

Can you feel it?!

Can you feel it? Whoo!

Did you see when I died and then I came back to life?

Are you kidding me? What is wrong with this guy?

His attention span is so freaking short.

Maybe he does need all that Adderall.

- Yo. - Oh, hey.

Thought I lost you to Donovan back there.

Oh. No, I just... I did a lap.

God... I'm pretty wasted.

Doubtful. That's just an excuse

for whatever insane shit he's about to say.

Um, yeah, so am I.

Well, do you... wanna sober up a little?

Uh, yeah?

I actually do.

I feel like there's always a point in the night

where you get kinda tired of being hammered.

Like this one time, I was so stoned

and I Googled "How to be less high,"

and then I was so high, I couldn't read the Google result.

Um, but, yeah, I wish I could get sober quickly

when I'm tired of saying stupid shit and the room is spinning.

Oh.

This is some really good shit.

I know what I'm doing.

And you thought romance was dead.

Wouldn't it be, like, even more badass

if we just did it straight off the toilet seat?

We're already destroying our bodies,

we may as well snort up some invisible poop particles.

It's like adding insult to injury.

Didn't I tell ya that was some good stuff?

Yeah, that's great. I bet they call you El Chapo.

Oh, my God, that's crazy! How did you know?

Let's get outta here.

It's so cool to meet a girl who does coke.

I don't do coke. I party, I drink,

I occasionally abuse a stimulant

that was not prescribed to me by a medical professional,

but I don't I don't do coke.

OK.

I am cool, though.

Oh, shit.

You on the pill?

Uh-huh.

Hold, please.

Isn't he dreamy?

I would say that that is the height of romance,

but I have a friend who once had a guy buy Plan B for her.

So that kinda set the bar.

Ow. Ahh.

Ahh. Um...

Ow.

Ow!

Dude, what the fuck! Jesus!

Can we make out for two seconds?

Yeah.

You're so beautiful.

I've had a thing for you for so long.

Wait. Wait.

W... Wait.

Relax. So,

Is this your first time or something?

No...

Wait...

Wait.

Oh, that was... That was fuckin' great.

Where you going? Wanna stay the night?

Um, I'm... I got work tomorrow, so..

All right.

Actually, I'm not sure. I'm just gonna get a glass of water.

Hurry back.

You get what you needed?

Um, I-I don't...

- Fuck! - I'm sorry. I just...

Why do you keep making me redo this night?

I-I party all the time, you have a lot to choose from.

I know, I'm sorry.

And what are you even writing about?

Like, Binge drinking? Drugs?

I'm clearly not the poster child

for the next parental sob story.

Clearly I turn out fine, or at least OK.

Can you just listen for a second? Please?

First of all, I'm not that old.

But I do have enough distance from where you are

to know that, um...

most of the specifics about college

have faded away by now.

You are worried about so many things

that do not matter anymore.

You're worried about your GPA, finding a date to formal,

you think your arms are too fat.

Are you saying my arms aren't fat?

I'm saying it could be worse, and you waste too much time thinking about it.

This stage of our life is such a blur to me,

and I only remember a few things really, really vividly.

And this night is one of those things.

What is your play about?

It's about rape.

Then you need to find another topic,

because that is not what happened. Like, hey.

News flash: Frat guys are bad at sex.

You know, maybe it wasn't the most consensual thing, I...

There it is. That's it.

If you can hear one thing that I say,

please let it be that there is no such thing

as nonconsensual sex.

There is just consensual sex, and there is rape.

Those are the only options.

If it's that simple, then why am I still here?

I kissed him first.

You've seen it a million times. I kissed him first.

- I know. - But I never... there's no way that...

Ooohhh! Like, aughhh!

I was drunk, I kissed him first,

there's nothing that I can do with that.

I'm not telling you what you should or shouldn't do,

I just... want you to know that it's OK to feel bad about what happened.

I'm fine.

OK.

You're the one who's still hung up on it.

I know.

I just... I... need to forget.

I wish that a butterfly would clap its wings

somewhere between you and I

and then I would forget about it

before I got to your age.

You don't forget.

Can I go?

Uh, yeah. Yeah.

Um, you... you should get some sleep.

Your friends are gonna randomly decide to go on a hike tomorrow,

and it's gonna be really fun, so you should,

you should make sure you're awake on time for that.

Okay!

Sorry, wait. Just really quickly.

Um, I just want to know, what do I end up doing?

Um, you're a writer. You know that.

No, I mean about this.

Well, I-I can't really tell you what to do.

You'll get here eventually, but the choices have to be yours.

I should have known you would say

something stupid and fake-deep like that.

Does it get any easier?

What?

I don't know, like, um... adulthood?

No. Just gets different.

OK.

I'll let you finish your play now.

Um. Sucks that I don't ever get any better at deadlines.

Hey, do I get an "A" in stats?

Oh, my God, get the fuck outta here.

Sync corrections by srjanapala