All language subtitles for Room.104.S02E12.MEMENTO-ION10.English-WWW.MY-SUBS.CO

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- Synced & corrected by MementMori -
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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?

I forgot what an asshole I was.

Not an asshole. I'm just
trying to make sure

that no stone 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.
Do you know that?

- 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.

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!

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...
- 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.

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.

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 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.

Wait.

Relax.

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 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...

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, you're worried about...

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.

News flash: Frat guys are bad at sex.

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

There it is. That's it.

I mean 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.
- 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.

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 make sure you're
awake on time for that.

OK.

Just really quickly.

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 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.

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.

- Synced & corrected by MementMori -
-- www.MY-SUBS.com --