Original subtitles

I Iove this!

I Iove you!

Pippa, you're supposed to say--

I can't hear you, Diego.

Pippa, you missed it. Slow down.

Thank you for everything.

- But I want you to stay. - That is so sweet.

- Yeah, but, I could come with you. - I'll call you!

- If I miss it. - Pippa!

Am I having a heart attack?

Can you tell me where this is?

Thank you.

Plane late, traffic. I'm sorry. It's great to see you.

Go, go.

Oh, shit, I only have euros.

Go, please!

Sweetie? Honey? Mascara. Priorities.

- I hate her! - I know, sweetheart, but you--

I'm sorry.

I'm here, I'm sorry.

I hate you!

Well, that's 'cause you're about to be forever faithful.

I mean, you must hate everyone. That's why I brought you something blue.

Jeannie! You look gorgeous!

Even from here.

It's called a Brazilian.

Shit!

Oh, my God. OK, let's go.

Let's go.

Welcome back, shithead.

- Nice to see you, assface. - Liar.

Martini?

Keep it handy.

- Well done. - Thank you.

Nothing like a bridesmaid's dress...

to add a subtle sheen of desperation to any party.

Works for you.

Oh, totally works. Here.

I can't take it. It's like Noah's ark in there.

Two by two by shoot me now.

OK, you know what? Cry me a river.

I'm the one stuck here burning Cliff and Jane party compilation CDs.

I mean, what did you do today?

I ran with the bulls.

- Is that like a metaphor? - Then I jumped out of a plane.

- Alone? - I had a guide.

Condoms?

You're the one doing the bushwhacking over there with Wedding Sex Luke.

Jealous?

Totally.

I've slept with everyone here. I'm radically out of options.

I wish you were staying longer than the weekend.

I'm a travel writer.

You've been "traveling" for 8 years.

What size bra did you guys buy me?

Same as always.

I guess you've matured.

Hey!

Now, most of you know that Jane and Clifford met on the trading floor.

Now, we've all been stimulated by the stock market recently...

not quite as stimulated as these two financial lovebirds here.

A bear Stern's match made in bull market heaven.

Oh, my God, it's not a wedding. It's a merger.

So please raise your glasses in a toast to the bride and groom.

To marriage, the happy tomb of love.

I'm cutting her off.

Oh, come on, she's celebrating with you, not at you.

She told my father that he was humpable!

And I'm sure it made his night. She's wedding phobic.

My boobs are killing me! I gotta go find my bra.

I love you guys, man!

It's over there.

What?

Your bra, it's caught in the edge of that--

No, to your left.

Your other left.

Thank you. I must have dropped it.

Beautiful night.

Kind of makes you feel like swimming.

Not really.

Girlfriend? Gay?

What? Because I don't want to go swimming?

Did your girlfriend pick that tie?

What's wrong with it?

Did I say there's something wrong with it?

Well, if you got something to say about my tie, feel free to say it.

It's flowery.

It's Boss.

Boss? Sorry.

Don't be. It's always good to hear what a girl thinks of your tie.

Especially a girl in wet pink taffeta.

I didn't pick this dress.

I didn't pick the tie.

Good, then.

Hey, you're soaking wet.

Come on. Let's get you in a cab.

Forget it. It's not even midnight.

In some cultures, the closing of the bar signals the end of the evening.

Well, in some cultures, men don't follow women around...

when they're not wanted.

I think that's a measuring cup.

That is so refreshingly literal.

And you are refreshingly drunk.

I am refreshingly refreshed. Thank you.

Maybe you should go home.

I just need to find some socks or something.

My feet are freezing.

Socks, often found in hotel kitchens.

Really?

No.

So, you're literal, and you're a pessimist.

If I was a cook, I would definitely have a pair of socks on hand...

for like, an unfortunate kitchen accident, or kitchen spillage.

Sit.

You're not the boss of me.

Enough. OK?

What's wrong with one little kiss?

I don't think you'll remember it.

So?

Yeah, that's kind of my point.

Why don't you just stay and have a drink?

We can talk all about your very important point.

I think I better go.

Most of the time...

I don't feel alone.

I travel. I have my life.

But sometimes, you know, you come home...

and it's like everybody's got somebody to dance with.

We could dance.

The only thing is, Joey, if we start dancing...

we might as well throw in the towel.

Start wearing relaxed fit Dockers and head off to lkea...

to eat meatballs with our in-vitro twins.

Right, Joey?

Will you make sure she gets home OK?

I got my own money.

Excuse me, do you take euros?

What the hell do you think you're doing?

I'm home.

Yeah, I can see that.

I didn't want to wake you up.

Well, then don't climb up my house at 2:00 in the morning.

Oh, Philippa.

The key was under the mat.

Dad?

I'm sorry.

Well, I wish you'd told me that you were coming home.

You would have baked a cake?

I should've. I meant to.

I worry about you.

Running around, doing God knows what.

I'm freelance, you know that.

I want you to get a real job, something that you can commit to...

and start making a life for yourself.

I have a life.

Dad? Made you some breakfast.

Sorry about last night.

I was a little jet-lagged.

Dad?

Daddy?

What happened?

Daddy. Oh, my God, I should go get the doctor.

Heart attack? A stroke?

I'm so sorry about last night.

- Both? - No, no, just a heart attack.

Oh. Well, what a relief.

I need my day book.

You didn't bring it with you?

In the ambulance?

I need to call lan. Fill him in.

I'm in trouble here.

Dad, you're in lntensive Care. I think you should consider relaxing.

Well, that's the difference between us.

Well, I'm here, all right?

So just let me help you. Tell me what you need.

I need a toothbrush.

I need an editor, and I need my day book.

Lucy Ward quit. One of my editors.

No notice. No, the idiot gets an offer from the Globe she can't refuse.

I can do it.

Fine, good. It's on my desk.

No, I can edit one of your magazines.

I'm a journalist, I've worked at a dozen magazines.

I can handle it.

Oh, that's terrific.

Which magazine?

You never edited a magazine.

I've been watching you for years, I'm in the business.

Just let me help you, please, for once.

You never think I can do anything.

Just tell me which magazine.

Lawns and Blooms?

Tennis Quarterly?

I mean, it's just until he's back on his feet...

and then he's gonna hire someone real.

- His words. - Oh, nice.

Loft Living?

I mean, I guess he's right. I never edited a magazine.

Well, as long as it's not Trucks Weekly.

Oh, my God.

It's not Trucks Weekly.

Wedding Bells?

Lulu, I offered to edit a bridal magazine.

It's a shrine to commitment, and I'm a slut.

I'm a fuck-slut half-orphan, and I start work on Monday.

Oh, sweetie.

You're not an orphan.

Oh! Shit!

Ms. McGee, I presume.

It's Pippa, please. And you are?

Frank. No last name.

- Like Cher? - Who?

You know, Cher? She's famous?

I'm kidding.

- Funny. - Well, that's good.

Funny's good in an assistant, 'cause I'm gonna be yours.

Unless, of course, you fire me. Please don't fire me.

I'm an utter delight in the boardroom, I can assure you.

"Board" being the operative term.

Now, everyone's wildly excited to meet you...

never having heard of you, of course.

Well, let's put a pin in the touchy-feely stuff...

for the masses await.

Good pants, by the way. Very shock and awe.

So that's the story.

My dad asked me to fill in.

It's just temporary until he's back on his feet.

That being said, I am committed to making the best of this.

But I gotta be honest.

I mean, I see marriage as a kind of a prison.

It's a place where freedom and choice and sensuality go to die.

I mean, I'm still trying to figure out why...

in a world of choice and feminism and serial monogamy...

in a chaotic universe of infidelity and couple's counseling...

in a fragmented topography of divorce and nihilism...

why the modern woman would want to get married.

I mean, to me, these are very interesting questions.

Anyway, I guess what I'm trying to say is...

Iet's push the status quo, but not be pushed by it.

Let's keep things in perspective. Let's have fun!

I'll call them.

Brook Clinic, hello?

Lulu? Can you hear me?

Vaguely.

Oh, my God, it works! I'm Janet Jackson.

Oh, first day, lady. How's it going over there?

It's a total nightmare, but I'm faking my way through it.

The walls are pink, and I can't smoke.

- It sucks. - Well, you sound very positive.

Bad time?

How did you find me?

Excuse me?

Do you want your money back from the other night?

What? Hello?

I'm actually surprised you remember.

I guess that's fair. I was a little jet-lagged.

- You were loaded. - Tomato, tomahto.

Right. Let's call the whole thing off.

So who the hell is Philippa McGee?

- You're lan? - I am.

Ian Gray? My dad's vice president?

I talked to him this morning.

He asked me to come down and supervise the first few weeks...

make sure you were set up.

Well, he said he trusted me with this.

I thought he trusted me.

Guys? I'm gonna be in that office right there.

Frank? Is this decaf?

- Yes, sir. - Decaf?

Look, I'm sure he trusts you.

You're his daughter.

You're a grown-up. I'm simply here to--

Meeting's in an hour.

Ms. Nightly? Ms. I.P. Night--

Not funny. This is a place of work.

I was wondering about the sponge. Do you think it's too drippy?

For you, perhaps I'd suggest something a little more permanent, like Norplant.

Follow me.

Do you want to go to lunch? I'm craving sushi.

It's 10:30.

Your point?

You're going back to the office.

There's a problem. It's a little complicated.

Oh, OK, you know what? It is always complicated...

but, honey, you are the boss, you're in charge.

Just trust your instincts.

- I have instincts? - Oh, yeah, you are all instinct.

Now go. I am watching. Walk, please, walk.

Hey, guys. I just wanted to liaison this whole management shuffle situation.

Look, we all know this magazine's in trouble, all right?

We need to, one, strategize. Two, compromise. Three--

Jazzercise.

Theorize.

Roxanne, could you tell us a little bit more about our readers?

I mean, assuming that you're all right.

Secondhand smoke, lan, but thank you for asking.

Our readers are between the ages of 24 and 31...

engaged, primarily Caucasian--

Engaged middle class white chicks buy this magazine, that's a shocker.

Is this, like, amusing to you?

I think Pippa's a little jet-lagged.

No, I'm just curious. I mean, has anyone here ever thought about...

doing something relevant for a change, something investigative.

OK, divorce statistics, death of sex in modern marriage...

the religious right, wife beating--

That's not our magazine.

Why not?

We're not re-inventing the wheel here.

I disagree. The wheel is squeaky.

It's rattling, and it's not a friggin' buggy!

I mean, "Giddy up, Old Yeller, let's mosey on over to the monogrammed napkins."

- Old Yeller is a dog. - Come on!

Look, you want to discuss a new direction...

fine, we'll do it, but not in front of the staff.

Wow, you really learned at the knee of my father, didn't you?

You don't listen, do you?

I want a chance to do this by myself.

OK.

Anyway, lan has agreed to leave me alone.

At least for the first issue.

I take it your dad likes him.

Totally. He's everything my dad would love.

He jogs for fun.

He talks about multitasking and "liaising."

Hello, that's not a verb.

Anyway, he has no imagination.

I mean, what is wrong with a cover shoot at the Sky Deck?

Insurance. Access. Weather--

OK, that doesn't count, you're a consultant.

You could find a problem in Paradise if God paid you enough.

OK, I'm seeing something like landmark kitsch.

Kind of Post-Structuralist. Bridal Baudrillard.

Oh, yeah, your dad will love it.

He's out of it.

Certainly makes conversation easier.

Oh, my God, what is that?

This is a lesson.

Never impulse buy on peyote.

No, no, no. I love it. I love it. Give it.

Sold.

Thank you.

Futons are still kind of Zen, right?

Sure. If you're twelve.

When did you guys get so bourgeois?

Oh, sweetie. You're an adult. You're allowed to buy a bed.

This is good. I'm fine.

Good.

Power to the people.

OK, snappy, groovy, one word.

What's wrong with Wedding Bells?

Two words. OK, ring, rock.

I do.

Oh, you know what? That's two words. Sorry.

Hi.

Hi. I thought we had an appointment for noon...

but if this is a bad time--

No, no. This is a really good time. Please come in.

Hemingway Jones, freelance photographer?

Oh, right. Of course. Frank, can you get me a coffee?

Great name.

Thanks. My mom wanted me to be a writer.

Hemingway's a big favorite of mine.

Me, too. Hard to live up to, though.

Running with the bulls and a bottle of scotch.

The fantasy dies hard.

Really? I wouldn't know.

Oh, you wouldn't?

Do you want to get out of here?

I got some kittens...

some fields of flowers in here somewhere. Hang on.

Can I ask you something?

Honestly...

why do you want to work at Wedding Bells?

Honestly, I just need the money.

Why do you do this?

Why do I do it? It's just temporary.

I'm a travel writer.

So, you're not a bridal fanatic?

I'm not a bridal anything.

What about love? Together forever?

Two hearts beat as one?

You Light Up My Life.

You Don't Send Me Flowers Anymore.

Quit Playing Games With My Heart.

Oops, I Did It Again.

You're right. It's total cheese.

I mean, forget the ring. I'd take a multiple orgasm any day.

Amen.

Good afternoon, Wedding Bells.

Miss McGee! Can we get one thing straight?

I run ad sales. Ad sales sell ads.

No ads, no magazine.

We manufacture anxiety in our readers, and, in response, they purchase.

- Roxanne-- - Suffice it to say...

I find your rather whimsical editorial decisions to be problematic.

For example, the upcoming cover shoot.

While I'm sure you find satin and steel...

to be a sassy comment on post-millennial nuptials...

Betty Crocker will not.

Well, I'm not writing for Betty.

That's correct. You're not writing.

You're editing. And here's a thought.

Your blushing readers want that, too.

Frank!

Bauhaus Bride?

Too weird?

- All right. Do it. Hoist her up. - Right.

We want her floating, very ethereal.

I think we've got a bit of a nipple problem.

Hang on.

Are you all on crack?

No nipples!

What are you doing here?

Protecting my interests.

Birks, Ashley, Tupperware, Tiffany's--

Roxanne, it's not exactly a beaver shot.

Oh, for Christ's sake, people, I work on commission.

Hello? Amateur hour.

Come here, honey. Come on d--

- Whoa! Whoa! - Easy, easy.

OK, OK. Bring her down now.

Come here. I have some Band-Aids.

What's wrong with her?

What? Besides the heroin?

Guys, I can see the Band-Aids.

Wake up, you track-marked fish stick.

Daddy?

OK, Al. Crank her up.

Frank, call an ambulance.

The Bauhaus Bride? What about the Dead Bride?

Is that edgy enough for you?

I need an ambulance to the roof-- Where are we?

Are you sure about this?

Yes.

OK. That's all I need to hear.

"Wedding Bells has been taken over by aliens.

"Aliens from a loveless planet. A planet where half-naked anorexics...

"dangle like drowned witches from beams of steel.

"Perhaps Miss McGee believes her cynicism...

"will stand out from the crowd, but frankly--"

I've read it, all right?

"...she's just another rock and roll groupie who's crashed the wrong damn party."

Any ads pulled yet?

- Eleven. - Philippa?

Pippa, please.

I don't care. Good-bye.

Don't care what your name is.

Don't care how many time zones you skipped through...

in your illustrious freelance travel career.

Roxanne.

All I care about is making this magazine a success.

Look, the cover's not what I imagined. I was thinking angel. A floating angel.

"Getting What You're Worth: A Guide to Bulletproof Prenups"?

It's important to be informed.

"Temptation Honeymoon: The Tale of a 3-Day Marriage."

That's a true story.

You might as well give it to the man. Seriously.

Bob Jackman is just sitting there, waiting for the right moment...

which you just gave to him on a platter.

Do you not care that your father's about to lose his company?

All his magazines?

- Bob Jackman's a newspaper guy. - Well, he's looking to expand.

The guy's collected 51% of your dad's stock.

Are you serious?

I don't get it. I mean, you're running this thing.

You won't talk to your dad. You won't talk to me. It's...

Whatever. You know what?

Just call me when it's over, 'cause this is horseshit.

Dad, you should have told me.

I told you I was in trouble.

Well, you didn't tell me that it was everything.

I mean, I just thought it was the one magazine.

So, what? You could screw around?

Have fun? Be cool at a stupid wedding magazine?

It was your mother's.

I thought maybe that would be enough.

You know, the worst part, the most embarrassing part...

is that I actually thought it was gonna be good.

And I just end up disappointing him.

All right, Pippa, come on.

You can do this. You just need help.

You surround yourself with the most boring people you know...

and you just join the status quo for a few months.

Just like that, huh?

I need a partner in crime and it's you, so don't make me beg.

The most boring person I know.

Can I help you?

Coffee? Wheat grass?

I need your help.

Look, I screwed up. I'm sorry.

Ian, please, I need to make this work.

"Marriage is a terrible gamble...

"yet we persist out of sheer lack of imagination."

I mean, what kind of editor writes that?

It's a wedding magazine.

Look, there's not a lot of irony in these magazines.

I'm down with that.

Look, lan, I'm sorry. Please.

All right. I tell you what. If you can get your staff back on board...

if you can get them to trust you, respect you maybe, let me know.

OK, then. Tomorrow. Same time, same place?

My boobs hurt.

OK, thanks.

Pita. Go. Pee.

Go.

Pippa, it's 8:00 in the morning.

It's barely an offense...

compared to the butt-ugly thing on the end of that leash.

- I hate this dog. - Ex-girlfriend's?

OK, I'm the boss.

Ergo, I am fair, thoughtful, decisive, and generous.

Look, you want to be able to ask for the moon.

So, you create an environment that people actually enjoy.

The staff works later, harder, smarter.

Wow, you sound like the man.

I am the man.

Come on.

Yeah, that's a great idea. I'm writing that down.

OK, Roxanne, what do you want?

I was thinking of a shirtless groom, popping out of a wedding cake.

Shirtless groom.

Here you go. Careful, it's hot.

Right there.

You've gotta know more about your subject matter than anyone else.

I should get married and charge it to the magazine.

Oh, storage solution. That's sexy.

You don't have to buy it. You just have to sell it.

Hold up.

I can't. I've got a thing.

I'm coming in.

OK. Cover shot. What do you think?

Boring.

Boring. I don't know.

I guess...

You know, I'm not really sure what you're trying to say here.

It's big, it's puffy, it's white. Oh, my God, it's a fantasy.

Nuptial bliss. A day to remember.

Love at first sight. Memories that last a lifetime.

I'm in a Town Car with a Magic 8-Ball.

OK, look, just pick a theme and commit.

You ever thought about a focus group?

Just get some people together, people you trust...

ask them what they want to see, and just interpret it.

OK, you know what? Get out.

So... is that the ex-girlfriend?

Ex-wife. It's...complicated.

I like her.

Rock star, model, V.J., spy?

Surgeon.

Break a leg.

Martinique was fabulous, but we were so exhausted...

we could barely make it to the beach.

- Opening presents? Very tiring. - Throwing the heavy bouquet.

Ha ha. You're hilarious.

Commitment takes work, Pippa.

You're still mad at me.

I'm married. Serene. I'm over it.

You want to start without Rachel?

Oh, fuck me!

The fucking artichoke dip is on fucking fire again!

Tying the knot hasn't turned Jane into a cook.

Guess you can't register for that yet.

Yeah, we can save it.

- I'm not eating it. - Neither am l.

No, it must have only been around 300 thread count.

I mean, they didn't even have Egyptian cotton.

- Oh, my God. That's terrible. - No, you can't. You just can't.

OK. Now that we all know that Martinique kicks Fiji's ass...

welcome to the meaning of wife.

I take it you guys all saw my first issue?

Armageddon with sniff inserts.

OK, well, I prepared some questions.

I got one.

I'm 31, right? So, here's my question.

If I see one more perky-breasted, loft-living, size 2, yummy mummy...

pushing a pram with her skateboarding husband...

am I allowed to kill myself?

Honey, you're a very young 31.

Oh, I only got married last month.

Mature brides are increasingly common.

Holy shit, you actually feel sorry for us.

OK. All right, let's just say love is a given.

I mean, what's wrong with shacking up?

I mean, why do you need the lace and the place cards--

Did you see the lace on my dress?

I mean, blind Belgian nuns tatting away with their little blind fingers.

Hello? Better tax breaks.

Oh, come on. I'm a dyke, and even I want to do it.

I mean, haven't you guys ever wanted to get married?

Never thought about the big white dress?

I've thought about the big white dress.

What? I'm a very visual person.

Guys, guys, I'm so sorry.

OK. Take Rachel-- sensible, modern, ambitious Rachel.

Does Rachel really need this futile display of commitment?

- Well, actually-- - Does Rachel really want...

to tie herself financially to some poet who makes $3 a year?

Hey, that's a phase. It's transitional.

Does Rachel really need a piece of paper to show the world who she loves?

Guys, Simon asked me to marry him.

On my way over here.

I told him I was coming over here to talk about being single, right?

And he said that he'd been thinking and he didn't want to be single anymore.

It's almost as if this focus group prompted him to...

I don't know, to ask.

Way to go, Pip.

I mean, what the hell happened?

We were going to take over the world.

I mean, we were, every single one of us.

We were going to take over the goddamn world.

What, married chicks can't take over the world?

Well, it's not exactly at the front of their mind.

I don't want to lose myself, you know. I don't want to just disappear.

Just because your dad is a dick doesn't mean every guy wants to control you.

- OK, Oprah. - Luke doesn't want to control me.

Luke...

Luke Tenenbaum? What's to control?

You guys have sex once a wedding, right?

I watched my mom till I was 13.

My dad runs an empire, my mom runs a household.

She started Wedding Bells.

Yeah, then she died.

Pip, we don't have to get married.

What? And miss the happiest day of my life?

You need to get laid.

You're so right.

You couldn't sleep, could you?

Probably tossing and turning.

"Why didn't I call that guy back?"

"Seems nice. Not too short.

"A little artsy, but at least he's not afraid to take a chance."

No, I could never date somebody I work with.

I don't know about the dating.

Neither do l.

But...

what if...

What if I didn't know?

What if...

it was a dark...

mysterious...

mystery?

Mysterious mystery?

Close your eyes.

You don't know who this is, do you?

I couldn't really see for sure.

Doesn't it smell great out here?

- Prozac? - All earth and grass and sweat?

Zyban? Valium?

I'm on fire! These business bitches are toast!

I think Frank's found his team sport.

We really are playing like a team, aren't we?

No, you don't. Not on my watch you don't! No, sir!

Roxanne!

OK, what's wrong?

Well, ad sales are up, but I'd say she's getting laid.

Is that the secret to your good humor, Roxanne?

Jealous.

Next issue-- pick a theme yet?

A theme, right.

Pippa!

Yeah, we're the new school!

Mysterious mystery.

Excuse me?

Pippa, honey, wake up!

I got it!

Yes!

Pick a theme and commit, right?

Yes!

Hey, Lulu, it's me.

Excuse me? Luke is making you dinner?

This building is way too expensive.

It's a lease. We lose the building...

move the whole operation up to Scarborough.

Excuse me. Is there something you want to share with me here?

I'm telling you, McGee has totally lost his groove.

Seen the latest wedding issue?

Have l? Talk about inmates taking over the asylum.

I want to get back into the niche market, you know?

Monster Trucks, Beer Weekly.

- Exactly. - Bring in some yo-ho.

Throw him a few bucks, tell him to write about beer.

Genius.

So, Jack was in the elevator. He's picking apart the building...

he's talking about the company like he owns it.

Pippa, it's not your fault.

I'm trying so hard to please my dad.

But I just end up disappointing him. Like always.

It's really starting to wear me down.

And then, this guy--

Pippa, look at me it's not your fault.

If your dad's not gonna talk to you about this stuff...

there's nothing you can do.

I'm sorry. I probably wrecked your night.

You didn't wreck my night.

What were you doing?

Just mowing the lawn.

Ian.

I was at a rave.

Come on.

Poker night. It's no big deal.

Please don't tell me you had a really good hand.

Royal flush.

Oh, God. I'm sorry.

Hey, it's Friday night. You know, you should...

I know. Work later, harder, smarter.

No, you know what you're doing.

Take the night off. Go see your guy.

My guy?

That...guy.

He's not my guy.

Oh, really?

- I don't do that. - Do what?

- You know. - No.

Relationships.

Oh. I see.

Anyway, I'm just gonna stay a bit and go through these mock-ups.

But thank you. Seriously.

Hey...

Have a good night, OK?

Yeah. You, too.

Dad. You should have called me.

It's OK. We--we took a cab.

- Suzanne... - If you want to grab the bags--

Dad, I can do this, OK? We don't need a nurse. No offense.

Oh, I suspect your hands are full these days.

Malcolm told me you had a conference this weekend.

I think it's best if someone's with him.

I don't need to go.

It's fine. Just go to the conference.

We'll be fine.

OK. Welcome home.

You're not Roxanne.

I suppose that's a slight consolation.

Aren't I supposed to be driving her to Niagara Falls?

I think that's right.

Yes. Sadly, there's a conflict.

Wedding Expo in Niagara Falls, advertising conference in Kingston.

She didn't tell me.

She forgot.

You do realize you're an hour and a half late.

I take it Prada Boy operates by sundial.

I was only like--Oh, shit.

Sorry.

But we're not late.

You got your speech ready?

It's informal, right? It's, like, meet and greet.

Oh, my God. Keynote speaker?

What the hell am I gonna talk about?

I guess I could talk about being a bridesmaid...

but I never remember it.

That's a promising thesis statement.

Take a left. Other left.

What is it with you and the antiques?

Reminds me of something.

What? A hot night with Laura lngalls?

You don't see the possibilities in this bed?

You know, I would've thought an adventurous person like yourself...

Good mattress, too.

Assuming you like them hard.

Yeah.

Well, then you'd like this one.

Don't you have a bed?

It was my ex-wife's. She wanted it back.

You didn't get another one?

I'm looking. All right?

Well, you should get this one. It's cool. I like it.

You ready?

Oh, I get it. You gotta measure the bed, measure the space.

Comparison shopping.

Yeah, yeah. Come on.

You think you know how I live?

You're a numbers guy.

You go to bed at 11 :00, you wake up at 7:00.

You run 5 miles, you save 10%%.

You probably got that from your dad.

And you get the antiques thing from your old-money mom.

They make you feel comfortable in a cold, cold world.

I bet you still sleep on your futon from college.

I do not.

Over Daddy's garage.

He told you?

It's a lucky guess.

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the industry's premiere Bridal Expo.

We're going to kick off the festivities with our keynote speaker, Philippa McGee...

brand-new editor of Wedding Bells magazine.

Hi.

Sorry.

OK.

Can I just level with you?

I have never been married.

I've never even had a relationship that lasted longer than a month.

I've never edited a magazine.

I have never thought twice about diamonds or veils or honeymoons.

But I took this job for my father. You all know him, right?

And I took it for my mother, the woman who started it all.

Taking this job meant...

embracing a part of myself that I had locked away...

even from myself.

Pippa McGee, the romantic.

Seriously, I was a bridesmaid recently...

and at the end of the night, I was in tears.

Tears of anticipation and joy and hope...

hope that, someday soon, my prince would come...

and l, too, would have a fabulous white wedding.

So, everyone, let's drink up because our industry celebrates...

the most important thing in this whole war-torn world...

and that is true love.

I think I nailed it.

To the wall. What a crock of shit.

Pippa McGee, romantic, weeping tears of hope...

and joy and, oh, my God, anticipation?

You don't have to buy it. You just have to sell it, right?

I mean, pick a theme and commit.

You're right.

You know, Cinderella and her prince, together forever, it's not original...

but it's definitely an archetype.

OK, congratulations.

Why are you mad at me?

I'm not. I'm--

Your speech tonight--

If you could have told the truth, what would you have said?

I guess I would have said...

that, to me, it all feels like bullshit.

I mean, I think this industry allows...

No, condemns people to focus exclusively on the small stuff.

Hearts, hydrangeas, hors d'oeuvres.

Anything to distract you from the fact...

that you're committing to some stranger...

for the rest of your life.

Can I buy you a drink?

I won again!

Like hell, Cheater McGee.

First place you had sex.

How do you know I've had sex?

Truth.

Canoe. Tippy. I wouldn't recommend it.

OK, worst pick-up line you ever used to get laid.

I once told a grad student I'd studied with Derrida in Paris.

And that worked?

She was very into postmodernism.

OK. Best moment of your life to date.

The night I quit law school.

I walked in, quit, walked out.

Went down to this little sailboat I bought...

poured myself a scotch...

Iay back on the deck, watched the sky go black.

What happened to the boat?

I got married.

Put it in storage.

Dr. Feelgood's not a big sailor?

Not so much.

OK.

Worst moment of your life.

OK, I was 13. It was my first time at summer camp.

I wasn't really fitting in.

So I called home to talk to my mom.

The housekeeper told me that she died the day before.

She thought I knew. She thought my dad told me.

Pippa, I'm sorry.

She was sick a long time.

He was busy.

So, why'd your marriage end?

I don't know.

We stopped talking.

A secret nobody knows. That's a question.

My nails are fake. I bite them.

You?

My first name is not lan.

Lake? Like, swimming in a lake?

Considering my sisters are Whistler, Trilly, and Hiya, I think I'm doing OK.

- Hippies? - No shit.

All right, I'm going for a dare.

All right.

Do you see that woman over there?

I'm not sure that's a woman.

I think she wants to dance.

Hi. Would you like to dance?

Sure.

Guess I got lucky.

You go, girl.

Lucky bitch.

Right.

Yeah.

Yeah!

Turn.

Hey, you gotta see this. I swear to God, I'm in Elvis' groin.

I mean, if Elvis was one of the Seven Dwarves.

Oh, my God.

I got you something, a little souvenir.

Are you in?

Hey...

Come on.

Can't hear you.

What are you doing?

Does it matter?

Jesus, Pippa.

Yes, it matters.

What are you gonna do?

Put me in a cab and send me home?

Why are you so hard on me?

It's just...

You know, most of the time, you are so brave.

You know, you are right out there...

saying what you think, doing what you want.

I mean, I envy you.

I do.

But then, it just stops.

I mean, you shut it off. You just get so cool.

You know? Just cold to anything that actually matters.

Things like Wedding Bells?

I'm such an idiot. I planned this whole stupid thing.

I wanted to get you up here to talk to you. I don't--

God, it doesn't even matter.

You planned this?

Sort of.

Why?

Because you...

Because I really like you.

Philippa, I'm really worried about you.

You are?

Yes, I am.

Good. I'm glad that we could have this conversation.

Because I'm feeling really lost and...

I've been thinking about Mom.

I'm talking about the magazine.

Suze?

Suze?

Here's that file you wanted, Malcolm.

Thank you.

Nice to see you again, Philippa.

So, ad sales. Now, they're still way down from last month.

Well, we're working on getting them back.

We have a really solid issue in the works.

So you got it covered?

We haven't locked one in yet, but I have some great ideas.

Ian! Hey, come on in.

Hi, Malcolm.

I think I'll make a pot of coffee.

All right, good. Have a seat.

Hey, buddy.

So, what's the first thing that I taught you about ad sales?

A fat magazine is a happy magazine.

That's right. I need you to make sure that Philippa understands it.

- Dad-- - So, why don't we say it together?

Come on.

Philippa.

A fat magazine is a happy magazine.

Now, I need to make sure that you are focusing on Philippa...

and giving her all the hands-on attention that she needs right now.

I'd say Pippa's pretty hands-on.

Oh.

What happened this morning?

I had a lot of work I had to get back to.

OK, what are you doing?

- Nothing. - Nothing?

Jesus Christ.

That's crazy. Pippa!

Pippa, you've got to hear this.

This dude that plays in my band...

he was X-ing so hard that he passed out on stage!

What else? What happened after that?

Want to go get a coffee or something?

Jesus, what? Spit it out.

OK, what do you do if you're having a good time with someone?

What do you do? You run like you're on fire.

Me? I just jump in the bushes with them.

How good?

Quite good.

You run yet?

OK. You know what?

This... No.

You, my darling, are damaged.

Get over it.

Go get him.

Yes, sir. I understand.

Honestly, Mr. Jackman, I'm ready to start anytime.

Well, between you and me, Malcolm's not in top form.

He might even be relieved.

I mean, he would never admit that, but...

Yes, I agree.

Right now, Wedding Bells is proving to be a loss leader.

If it doesn't start performing, we pull it.

No, I understand.

You have some very interesting ideas for a relaunch.

- Wow. - I know.

Ian's working with Jackman behind my dad's back.

That's unbelievable.

What an asshole. Did you tell your father?

Not until I have a strategy.

If I tell him his golden boy's a Judas, then he might have another heart attack.

What a drag.

Apparently they're all just waiting for my next issue to fail...

and then they can pull the plug on the whole company.

Hem?

No, I get it. I totally get it.

It's like they're just looking for an excuse.

Well, I'm not gonna give it to them.

All right, so I can't trust lan, so I won't tell him what I'm doing...

because I know what I'm doing.

OK, cover story-- Cinderella, fairy tales...

Balls, slippers, society brides.

You're good at this. Keep going.

Oh, dippy debutantes and the men who marry them.

InStyle magazine meets...

The Great Gatsby?

I love it.

Gatsby.

OK, are you cool, Pippa?

I'm cool. Cindy, you look beautalicious.

All right, give me a little bit more.

You've got a secret. I've got a secret.

A little more. A little--

I can't do this.

- What's-- - I just can't do this.

What's going on?

Do you want to deal with that?

I'm so sorry I was crying before. I feel much better.

All right. I'm cool. Are you cool?

Here we go. One more time. Excellent, excellent.

I'm getting married!

There we go.

Hold it, hold it, hold it.

I'm getting...

I'm getting married.

Jesus Christ.

Lovely.

Lovely.

Congratulations.

Your society bride cover was nominated for an N.M.A.

It's, uh, National Magazine Award.

The gala's next week.

- No way! - Hey!

That's unbelievable! Roxanne, did you hear that?

You guys should celebrate.

Congratulations.

Thank you.

Thank you. Oh, thank you.

Thank you.

I got calls from, like, three fashion magazines.

These agents calling, wanting me to direct their video.

I mean, it's my time, man.

What happened to the sarong?

I think I'm about to get dumped.

I thought I'd wear something a little more masculine...

and really break his heart.

Sweetie, what happened?

Couriers. Notoriously unwilling to commit.

It's all that traveling, I guess.

You know, my neighbor's single.

Straight people slay me.

Always trying to set us up with the one other gay guy they happen to know.

Back off, I'm a good yenta. His name's Raphael. He's cute.

Raphael? Shit, back waxer.

I'll see if he's free next week. You could go to the awards.

I guess lan's not going to be joining us for the pole dancing this evening, huh?

It's not exactly his scene.

No.

Now there is a man I would dress down for.

Can I get a double?

No, get off there. Hey, hey, girl, what happened to you?

You took off. Listen, a bunch of us are heading over to the Matador...

so come meet us there. All right? Bye.

Pippa, it's lan. I left the proofs on your desk.

They look fine.

I'll see you at the awards on Saturday.

Bye.

Yo. It's me...

and I'm just trying to track you down, but it's cool.

Hey, sweetie. You free on Saturday?

Engagement brunch for Rachel. I know you're going to love it.

We'll have fun, trust me.

Good God, you read my mind.

Sorry I've been hard to reach.

Man, you look like James Bond.

Hard to reach?

I just needed a little space.

Hey, baby, is that the cab?

I just assumed...

I called you.

Oh, my God!

That is so sweet!

You're such a doll.

Aren't you supposed to be on your honeymoon?

Sweetie, don't worry. I won't go public till next issue's out.

I mean, I don't want us all to look stupid, right?

But, come on, bankers don't send you poetry.

It's weird. I mean, I feel hurt, actually.

And relieved, which is a bizarre combination.

I don't even want him, right? I'm single, he's single.

I mean, girls like us, we rock on our own!

We date who we want, you know, when we want.

We adopt, if we feel the need.

Frankly... I feel very whole.

But please don't make me go to this thing by myself tonight.

Please go inside and put on a dress and take an aspirin?

No.

No.

Honey, I'm so sorry.

But you work at a birth control clinic.

I know! I know!

You're having it?

You and...Luke?

He's thrilled. He's actually--He's thrilled!

Why are you apologizing? I'm so happy for you.

I'm so happy for you both.

Hey, you guys want some tea?

I wish I could stay, I really do...

but promise me we can celebrate later.

I'm so happy for you. Congratulations!

- Pippa, don't! - I want to be godmother!

Pippa!

And that's why I wanted you to be the first to know.

Let's try the rouge, shall we?

Making the announcement next week. We're dumping everything.

None of the magazines are turning profit. Did you see that wedding magazine?

McGee's kid. Total dilettante.

Nice cover, no content.

You're right, Mr. Jackman.

Look at you, sexy thing.

You did good, matchmaker.

- Hi, Raphael. - Hi.

Oh, hi, guys.

You remember Chad from the Mr. Tux ad campaign?

Hi.

This is Sasha. Sasha Gray.

Sasha!

Oh, my God, that's so weird. You guys have the same last name.

Guys, this is so exciting!

How you doing, folks? Good evening.

Everybody looks great.

Hello, Mr. Jones.

Up next is the award for design.

Many of you who know me know I went to school for design...

at L'École de Photo.

And, well, not nominated, but it's all very political.

So, you're a doctor, huh?

I really respect people who give back.

Oh, yeah. Me, too.

Coming up next, the awards for photography and graphic design.

- OK. Y'all cross your fingers. - First, a very special moment.

Where's Roxanne?

The Lifetime Achievement award.

Roxanne, our award's coming up.

...is a publisher with over 10 magazines in his repertoire...

I got it. Dropped my napkin.

I think I'm gonna be sick.

Tougher than nails and wiser than Solomon...

Mr. Malcolm McGee.

Christ, he's not here. I guess I should get it for him?

Yes, go!

Yeah, go.

Unfortunately, Malcolm can't be with us tonight.

But he's asked that his colleague and vice president, lan Gray...

accept the award on his behalf.

Wait. Pippa, don't go.

Pippa.

Pippa, I'm sorry. I had no--

It's fine.

It's not fine. All right?

It's not fair, it's not fine.

Come on. At least let me drive you home.

I'm not going home.

Keep on running, huh? Don't you ever get tired?

It's called living, lan. I wouldn't exactly say you're an expert.

Living what? Bungee jumping off some cliff?

Running around with some random guy who's not worth a moment of your time?

- You don't even know me. - Bullshit!

I know that you don't talk to your father.

I know that you miss your mother.

I know what you look like when you kiss.

And I know that you have never, ever dated someone that matters to you.

You think you matter to me?

Hey, hey. Don't do this.

Why not? I heard you talking to Jackman.

Selling out my dad behind his back...

telling me I could make it work, but then assuming that I'm gonna fail.

Well, congratulations, it worked. But what do you have left?

Some ex-wife that you can't seem to break up with?

The dream of some sailboat that you put in storage?

Accepting awards for other people's vision?

That's not living. That's pathetic.

Lifetime Achievement award.

That's barely worth mentioning.

Must not be important if you got lan Gray to accept it for you.

Well, I've worked with lan for years. I'm his mentor.

And I'm your daughter. Doesn't really count for much, does it?

I didn't matter to you as a kid, I didn't matter to you as a teenager.

And by the way, Philippa, your mom died last night.

You're too busy to let me know.

Look...

I wanted to tell you in person.

Well, I'm here now.

I'm living with you in this museum.

I'm 29 years old, and I'm putting my life on hold...

trying to make you proud of me.

What a waste.

You know, lan's working with Jackman behind your back.

He's negotiating the inevitable takeover.

It's practically Oedipal.

Wait a minute. It's not behind my back.

What?

It's not a takeover. I'm selling.

And I asked lan to handle it for me.

You got lan to do it for you?

Did you ever think of letting me know, Dad?

Well, I hope you put that award on your mantelpiece...

and I hope you shine it and look at it every day.

Because it's all you got left.

So where was l?

You were on the part about you being a thoughtless piece of shit.

- Right. Thank you. - Anytime.

All right. So then I say...

"Obviously my inability to communicate with my father...

"has affected both my professional judgment...

"and my personal behavior."

Run-on sentence.

"And therefore I have decided to remove myself...

"from the editorial masthead before I do any more damage."

You can't start a sentence with "And."

Look, could you just nod? Or smile?

Lady, you're writing a letter of resignation...

to a guy you're clearly hot for.

Look, this guy would not touch me with a 10-foot pole.

You're sure? I mean, if he's the one.

Even if he was someone--

Someone, the one, same damn thing.

Listen. Get out of here, OK?

Go show this guy with the 10-foot pole that you mean business.

Your grammar sucks, but you're creative.

Figure it out.

Ian?

Ian?

Ian?

Ian, it's me.

I don't know how to say I'm sorry...

but I'm gonna try. OK.

Philippa.

Jesus, Dad.

You're fired.

What?

You don't want to do this.

You don't want to run a wedding magazine for a company that is falling apart.

I don't understand.

Of course you don't, because I didn't tell you.

How do I say to my daughter that I'm tired?

And that I have spent 35 years building a company...

neglecting your mother, neglecting you...

and that I'm just going to let it go?

Without a fight.

And, of course, instead of asking you to forgive me...

I kept you in the dark.

Why?

I don't know how to tell you things.

I've been so hard on you.

Dad, it's OK.

It's not OK.

Life's so short.

And you are so...

remarkable.

So, Pippa, please, get out.

Get out of here.

Find something that you love.

You called me Pippa.

I'm turning it all over tomorrow.

So that's it? It's over?

Oh, I'll stay on as chair for, you know, a few months...

during the transition.

Dad, I want the last issue.

You sure?

It's what I really want.

Lulu, if we make a donation to your clinic, will you design a dress for the cover?

I don't know how to design a dress.

Yeah. You're a visual person.

You know, the big white dress you're always talking about.

Though, frankly, I'm thinking pink.

Really? Anything I want?

Pippa!

I've got five couples for your gay marriage story.

It is your gay marriage story, assuming you're willing to write it.

Oh, wicked!

OK, Lee, design whatever you want. Go crazy. Surprise me.

Great! Guys, guess what?

John lrving said yes. He'll write a piece on marriage in two days.

If I manage his stocks for a year. Just call me The Rainmaker.

Oh, my God! I love you, guys, man!

I don't know how to do this.

Yes, you do.

Dear Wedding Bells...

my friends tell me that I have Peter Pan syndrome...

that I'm afraid to grow up.

Will committing to someone I love make this better or worse?

Signed, 29 Forever.

Wait a second. Does lan know about all of this?

No, it's a surprise. Kind of like you under the table...

at the awards was a surprise.

Dear 29 Forever...

"Dear Readers, birds do it, bees do it.

"My best friend on the cover clearly does it.

"We should all be so lucky as to do it.

"So, let's do it right.

"Let's fall in love.

"You want hothouse flowers and blusher veils?

"Vegas with Elvis as your witness?

"You want to tie the knot at 90?

"Have a baby with your best friend?

"Live alone? Live together?

"Take a lover? Wed a partner?

"It's your choice. And I promise you...

"if your choice has substance, it's gonna have style.

"Stop worrying about silverware and start thinking about passion.

"And I'm not just talking lust.

"Passion is giving something your undivided attention.

"It's someone wanting to know your best moments and your worst.

"It's someone you delight just by being yourself.

"lt just has to be real."

"And if it is, you'll be so busy falling in love...

"you won't notice anything else. Happy Spring. Love, Pippa."

- What are you guys doing? - Free champagne?

- I look gorgeous. - I'll be on your next cover.

Oh, sweetie, congratulations. I'm so proud of you.

- Ms. McGee! - Congratulations.

It would be so easy to hate you, but it's selling off the goddamn shelves.

Oh, my God, it's amazing! They've got interviews--

I've got fans.

"Roxanne Perdue's column Tough Love is a refreshing delight."

Pippa. Hey.

Congratulations.

I wanted to come by.

How's Sydney?

Well, that's the thing.

She's a nice girl.

She's crazy.

She's fun. She might make you happy.

You think?

It's worth a try.

All righty. Oh, we've got interviews.

- Actually, you guys, I gotta go. - What are you doing?

It's kind of about a guy.

- Oh, my God. Oh. - Oh, no, no, no. Heaven can wait.

Oh, no, it can't.

Pippa! Wait!

Wait up for me!

Wait. Where are we going?

An antique store.

It's a long story.

I've come about a bed.

Single, double, iron?

- Pine. - Double.

It's got like these spindly things. It's got a very firm mattress.

It's for a guy. It's for a very specific guy.

- It's a present. - I'll give you a free ad in Wedding Bells.

What? Frank!

Sold it.

Go, Pip! Go, Pip!

I can't do it.

- Go on! - Go get him!

Get that man! Get him!

Forget him. You're young. You're cute. You'll be fine.

Call me when you hit 40.

I'm almost 40.

You're 29. Boo fucking hoo.

It gets worse. Just with better clothes.

Roxanne, I still think that she should talk to him.

He's fine. He's good.

He's with a very nice woman who saves lives.

Hello. Cirque du Soleil here.

I talked to Jackman. They're keeping the magazine.

Are you serious?

So, what are you going to do?

I quit. Gonna write a book.

Adventure Travel for the Single Woman.

I don't want a new boss.

Well, Roxanne's gonna be an excellent editor.

I mean, she's smart, she's fair. She knows the business.

Pippa.

Hey, I was sipping.

Shut it, lady. You got fruit in your womb.

Pippa, I really still think you should talk to him.

Oh, sweetie.

He's gonna call you.

I don't know.

Sweetie, it's OK.

No.

You know what?

I'm fine.

Oh, my God.

I read your editorial.

The whole magazine--it's amazing.

I hear they're saving it.

So you went sailing?

Your dad said you were at the lake.

Thought I'd give it a try.

That bed was sold.

Yeah. To me, for you.

Pippa, it didn't work with her the first time.

And I'm in love with somebody else.

So, are you on the rebound?

I don't know if I can compete with some superhero surgeon person.

What? You don't listen, do you?

Ever.

I'm just sayin'.

It's OK. Forget it.

I mean, I sailed all this way, but whatever.

- Don't leave. - Can't hear you.

Please. Don't leave.

Hey.

I like you, too.

Finally.

You're still here.

I'd like to finish by saying my darling, darling Lulu has moved...

from the hurly-burly of the chaise lounge...

to the deep, deep peace of the double bed.

And l, for one, drink to that.

- Cheers! - Thank you.

To Luke and Lulu.

To Luke and Lulu!

It's a dark chocolate Callebaut truffle fondant and butter cream frosting.

When I threw it, if you just get at it with a 45-degree angle right here.

OK, guys. Ready?

One, two, three.

Jane, you're already married. Give it to Rachel.

I know. I'm just making sure she got it.

Thank you. Thank you.

Yay, Rachel!

I love weddings.