All language subtitles for You re the Worst (2014) - 05x03 - The One Thing We Don t Talk About.TBS

Faster, Jimbo.

That's not helping. Talk hot.

- Oh, my feet are so sweaty.
- There you go.

Oh, I can't wait to take my shoes off,

stretch my toes apart.

- Oh, yeah, keep going.
- Flex my arches

back and forth, back and forth.

Ooh!

Oh, yeah.

Give 'em a little soak.

Oh, boy, they're so wriggly!

Hut!

3:44!

- Ah!
- I think I have the bends.

We broke our record.

Jimmy, we could medal in speed fucking.

Yeah, or we could just wait
until after the reception.

- Like people.
- Open bar, bro.

We'll be way too schnozzled by then.

- Huh.
- And you have to bang

on your wedding night.

Like how if you break a mirror,

your grandmother's ghost
sees you masturbate.

Uh...

Can I answer any questions
about the venue?

Did the Goodwin sisters
really get murdered here?

Yeah. They were garroted
in the main hall.

All three of them?

Yeah, if you could just give
us a moment to discuss...

We'll take it. Take our money.

Just take all our money!

Okay, then.

Uh, here's the schedule of fees.

Just read and sign at the bottom.

I need someone to air out the east annex

and buy new towels.

Uh, is this a prank?

This can't be the price
for a single event.

Just put it on a credit card.

Here. Oop...

How many credit cards do you have?

Like, 70.

Seventy?!

You're, like, 50/50 with
flushing the toilet.

How do you remember to pay off
70 credit cards each month?

You don't need to pay off credit cards.

When one stops working,
you just get another.

Um, how much do you owe,

like, in total?

Who cares? It's not real.

It's just some numbers
on a computer somewhere.

Why have you never told
me of your debt before?!

Honey, it's our debt now.

Oh, my God, I'm marrying
an actual child.

Not even a skilled one.

Just because we have different ideas

about personal finance doesn't mean

you get to patronize me.

It does if I'm your literal patron.

Just lock down the venue already.

Ugh, I have to go hire my replacement.

I'm gonna make these twats
Hunger Gamesit out,

see who wants it the most.

Well, since that will
surely lead to your firing,

I will whore myself out to
Hollywood for the both of us.

Why, because you're the
man? Please, Jimmy.

I can take care of myself.

- Which way is my job?
- Yeah.

Sync and corrections by btsix
www.addic7ed.com

And he's like, "I thought
you were a veterinarian."

"At least now it makes sense
why you're cupping my balls."

"While you're down there,
I lost my keys."

- Ah, oh...
- Doug, I can't say it enough.

Thank you for doing this with me.

Please, I've been dying
to collab for years.

And thank you for
diagnosing my cat's cancer.

I know a tumor when I feel one.

It was a tumor, and an
important lesson for us all.

Get your rectum checked regularly.

Oh.

I thought he really had his
finger up the cat's ass.

Let's take five.

I'm telling you, this show's gonna be

a real tent pole for Metro PCS.

Soup?

I always carry an extra cup.

You know what they say:

you'll never be hungry if
you carry soup with you.

Ah, thanks, but I'm all souped-up.

Edgar, let me ask you something.

What do you think about Dutch?

Every time I work, I try to
take someone under my wing,

like a mama bird or a sentient airplane.

Oh, well, that's nice.

- What is it?
- Ah, nothing.

It's just it seems like
Dutch is doing well.

He's pitching, he's contributing.

I'm the one too intimidated
to even open my mouth.

Yikes. I hope it's not me.

Oh, no, no. Uh...

My ex-partner made me question
my abilities as a writer.

Not to mention encouraged me

to get into a lot of financial trouble.

Well, that sounds just terrible.

I'm glad you spoke up.

Because I would be proud to
take you under my wing instead.

What about Dutch?

What about that mongoloid
ginger fucking Sasquatch?!

Edgar, no.

You volunteered.

That's never happened before.

I'm gonna focus all of my
attention on you from now on.

And I insist.

There's five kinds of beans in there.

All right.

It was an emergency. I had to poop.

A poopergency.

Lindsay, toilet's not for pooping.

I can't poop at work
because of my new squeeze.

He's the big boss.

I thought your boss was that fashion ho

who wouldn't let me nap under your desk.

Gretchen, Priscilla is a girl.
I'm talking the real boss.

And he's visiting from corporate,

so the whole building
is kind of his office.

- Check out our wedding venue.
- Holy...

Nice bones. Decent lighting.

That room back there
looks like a good place

to sneak a quick fuck
in. When can I see it?

At the wedding.

Gretch,

you shouldn't be making decisions

without your maid of honor.

You'll regret it.

Are you threatening me?

I'm just saying,

who's gonna dab your butt sweat?

Or hold your weave back
when you're vomming up

a 12-pack of Sno Balls you
panic-eat before big events?

- You?
- Or slip Xanax in your bitch mom's

Earl Grey so she'll

chill the fu... ♪ Oklahoma! ♪

What is the one thing
we don't talk about?

Politics. Math.

That one crow who has it out for you.

What happened between you and
Matthew Perry. Coachella.

Your bitch mom.

My bitch mom.

Sorry.

Anyway, doesn't matter,
she won't be there.

Why not?

I'm not gonna tell my mom
I'm getting married.

- Gretchen.
- If I tell her about the wedding,

she'll get in my head and I'll
give myself a butt ulcer,

and then when I'm puking up stomach acid

all over Court Seven in the All
County Mixed Doubles finals,

it'll be my fault

for being such a total disgrace
to Grammie Gretchen's name.

Oh, no, I can't do it.
I'm gonna kick it.

Kick it? Till when?

Don't know. I've been rescheduling

the same dentist appointment
for, like, 12 years.

- Idiots.
- Gretchen.

This isn't teeth, this is important.

As your maid of honor, if
you don't call your mom,

I'll be forced to call her.

Fine. I will call her.

But when she destroys me emotionally,

your dumb ass has to pick up the pieces.

Ooh! You're hiring the new Gretch today?

Trying to. These Post-Millennials

with their high GPAs and
multiple internships,

as if being smart and
working for years for free

means you deserve an actual job.

Oh!

Edgar, you're just in time

to help me convince "feature people"

that I can adapt my own novel.

I thought you weren't doing that.

Yeah, well, I've come to the realization

that there is some value in
experiencing the same story

in a secondary, inferior medium.

Like when you roast a delicious hen,

then boil the bones to make a soup.

Oh, so you're doing it for the money.

Turns out that blockhead
Gretchen is drowning in debt,

so I have to get to something
called Culver City

to pitch my take on my book,

and I need your help.

Sure. Uh...

pitch away.

No, I need you to come and
pretend to be my assistant

so I look important.

Jimmy, I'm a writer now, remember?

- I'll pay you 100 bucks.
- Okay.

My Yeezys plummeted in value again.

So...

why do you want to be a publicist?

Actually, you made me want to do this.

You mediated the weirdest
feud in hip-hop.

It's an honor to meet you.

Aw, that's so sweet.

- It's an honor to send you home.
- Wait, what?

Our La Croix budget won't cover
you. You're too thirsty.

Bam! You got Cutlered!

Mm-mm.

PR isn't just about
learning celeb secrets

and stealing retinol creams
from their swag bags.

It's about power.

Power over celebs and the
shit they don't need,

like retinol creams.

Surviving the next elimination
will be much harder

with lots of steps, which
will take many hours.

Come on.

Round two's at a bar. I need
to see if you can hang.

You coming, sausage wallet?

- Sausage wallet?
- Uh, no.

This is obviously a
test. It's, like, 1:30.

You're right. It is a test, and
you failed. Ciao, suck-butt.

Don't hug her.

She was Cutlered. Ugh, I don't like it.

Find me a new catchphrase by 3:00.

Uh...

And as Simon runs from the hooligans,

he's actually running from
his own sexual awakening

at his uncle's knee.

But before he can reckon with this,

he finds himself in Primrose Hill,

its gentle swells reminding him

he has someone for whom to
survive this night... Kitty.

- Oh.
- Mm. Love Kitty.

She's an incredible character. Charming.

- Raw. Love.
- It's her movie, really.

Kitty's?

She's really the perfect
protagonist for today's climate.

Everyone is gonna want to be Kitty.

- Or bang Kitty.
- Consensually.

Obviously consensually.

- Jesus, Sheila.
- Sure.

But to be clear, Simon is
the protagonist, so...

Simon's running from the
hooligans from his past.

I mean, certainly we can all agree

that Kitty is a reprehensible
character, right?

She's immature, squalid, untrustworthy.

That's what we love about Kitty.
Her messiness is aspirational.

What is? Her utter reliance
on everyone around her?

Or the way that she bankrupts
her father's cobbler shop?

I'm starting to feel like
you're not Team Kitty.

I hate Kitty!

Oh, what he means is that he hates Kitty

because he hates himself.

Wrong! Love myself.

- Hate Kitty.
- Exactly.

It's why no one else could write Kitty.

And it's that same

kind of hatred that
binds Kitty to Simon.

And Jimmy to them both, who
are both... well, him.

Jimmy.

- Huh.
- Hmm.

It's the garter belt.

Goddamn it, Rachel, I told
you to just stand there

and be quiet. I know
it's the garter belt.

Point to where you think it is.

Yeah, that's where I thought it was.

Nice, Rachel. You passed the test.

Wait, so you wanted our help?

Shut up! Half of PR involves

sitting silently next to your client,

who will be annoyed by
the very fact of you,

like how you breathe too hard, Rachel.

No one here is named Rachel.

Bad news.

Turns out my big corporate boss

isn't actually a boss at all.

- He really is a janitor.
- Linds.

Did you think the janitor
was an undercover boss?

One of these times he has to be
an undercover boss. It's math.

Can I set your purse down? It's heavy.

No. Most of PR is carrying
other people's shit around.

Why are these basic hos here?

I am being thorough.

Goldman Sachs has a
ten-step interview process.

Oh, does Old Man Sachs
have all those steps

to avoid calling his mom, too?

All right, bitches.

New test. In PR, you are often asked
to pull tail for your client.

Find Lindsay someone at
this bar she can bang

and realistically fall in love with.

But we don't know her.

Go!

And while they find someone
who makes my heart horny,

let's practice calling your mom.

What? No!

Ring, ring, ring.

- Hi, Mom.
- Hello, Gretchen.

Your father and I were just
complaining about you.

- Hi, Mommy.
- Is there a reason you called?

Jimmy and I are getting married.

Well, I'm obviously aghast,

but someone whose sell-by
date has long since passed

might as well grab the first immigrant

who needs a green card.

Jimmy loves me and he
already has a green card.

- I think.
- Did you schedule your Botox?

Do it now so your face
settles before June.

And only eat steamed fish and veggies.

- Mommy, I don't want to...
- Fine!

Gallumph down the aisle a fat,
wrinkled pig for all I care.

- I didn't say that!
- Have you just grown

so comfortable with failure

that you don't even notice it anymore?

Like how people who have
litter boxes in their house

get used to the smell of cat shit?

What? No.

At least you'll be his burden now.

- I hate you! I hate you!
- You've been nothing...

- I hate you!
- ...but dead weight since

the day they cut you out of my uterus!

Lindsay!

Oh, that's right, run to the bottle.

I hung up on you. You
can't see what I'm doing.

Ugh. Time! Bring it in, bitches!

You didn't specify a time limit.

Oh, well, you're Cutlered.

- Yes? No?
- Mm.

All right, Linds.

Which guy?

Neither. This is who they pick?

A wizard? Pocket shorts?

Hard pass.

You're both Cutlered!

Oh, it works. You just
have to attack it.

Thanks for no help with that, dummies.

Call your mom. Do it.

Um, just wondering how much
longer the interview is?

Oh, the real interview
hasn't even started yet.

Lightning round.

Let's Coyote Uglythis bitch!

I'm gonna kill you!

What is she doing?

Get her!

Get her!

Should we just go?

Is that what they taught you
at Mount Holyoke? To quit?

You know where I went to school?

I know about all of you...

About Thirsty's internship at Dentsu.

About how No Drinks went to Duke.

I know all about your special skills

and all the languages you speak,

and all the hobbies you think
make you sound interesting.

Bouldering. Indoor cycling.

Who stays in Girl Scouts
through high school, Debbie?

Don't listen to her. She's a psychopath.

So all of this was
part of the interview?

The singing, the fighting,

the making out with the random guy?

Yes! Wait, that was a guy?

Oh, goddamn it, he had such soft lips.

Your clients will be terrible people

with no impulse control.

Musicians are babies who
will shit all over you

and laugh about it.

So you're not actually drunk?

I am completely sober.

Fooled you, Rachel.

Cutlered.

What a sham. They trick me

into describing how to adapt my work

just so they can pass my clear
roadmap along to some hack

who will strip away all
the heady eroticism

and write a film about a
quirky girl named Kitty.

You don't know that you
didn't get the job.

They said "Good stuff," at the end.

You think someone who'd been
rejected as often as you

would recognize when it happens.

Oh, crap. I have to go in for
a late-night writing sesh.

Hey, did I tell you I'm under
Paul F. Tompkins's wing now?

Well, at least you know where

your next paycheck's coming from.

God knows when the first payment

for my next book comes in,
or the royalties on Width.

And whilst I wait, I'll have
to default on my mortgage,

sell my resplendent hot rod...

I don't think it's been street legal

since Gretchen set it on fire.

And then marry that self-same
pyromaniacal redhead

somewhere cheap and disgusting,

like Reno or some botanical garden.

I still think you're gonna get it.

If they were to give me the
job, it would probably

only be because of your
offensive yet succinct

oversimplification of my sweeping epic.

Thanks.

Yes.

All right. Fine.

I'm sorry, Jimmy.

- I got it.
- What? Seriously?

- That's amazing.
- Do you know what this means?

You don't have to worry about money.

I have to write a screenplay.

That's good.

Remember your soup metaphor?

Soup? Soup isn't food.

It's just bone water. Seriously, Edgar.

All you had to do was just sit there

and keep your mouth shut.

Aw, shit.

Oh, did we bang?

How was it? Did I do anything weird?

What happened to Rachel?

She had to feed her cat.

Did you do all this?

I like to stay busy.

I think I figured out
what the last test is.

Are you really afraid of what your mom

will think about you getting married,

or are you actually
afraid of what you think?

You don't know my mother.

She withheld food, human touch

and Breyer model horses to control me.

After seeing what you put
yourself through today,

I think you can handle it.

Whatever she says.

Hi. Sorry it's so late. I...

Mommy, I have some big news.

What if we switch it up

and make her the doctor?

Yes. I love male nurses.

But I hate how they never
ask doctors for directions.

Yeah, they're real
Florence Nightinmales.

There's our title.

Where has this Edgar been hiding?

- Right here.
- You got to sing out more, man.

I don't think we're gonna
be able to top that.

Hey, Edgar, you want to take the
rest of the sandwiches home?

Oh, man, my roommates
don't like when I take up

too much of the fridge.

Oh, man. I... I really hate
to see food get wasted.

Edgar, I tell you what.

I'll pay you a thousand dollars

to eat the rest of these
sandwiches right now.

What do you say?

Hell yeah, Edgar. You got this.

I love watching people eat food.

Now the minute you feel sick or
even a little bit uncomfortable,

you can stop, we won't
think any less of you.

Sandwich number one.

So...

did you find a new you?

Nah. None of them really stood out.

But Lindsay pulled a Lindsay

and boned a janitor,
so I'm gonna hire her.

She's feeling pretty low.
What'd you do today?

Eh, nothing. Just became a
professional screenwriter.

And locked down our wedding venue.

You whored yourself out for us.

Aw.

I'm so lucky.

I can't wait to marry you.

I love you so much.

You've been mixing off-brand
cough syrups again.

No, Jimmy. I called my mom.

- Oh, boy.
- No, it was good.

It was, like, really good.

We've never had a
conversation like that.

We laughed, we bonded, she told
me about her menopausal dryness.

I even told her about the wedding.

She didn't say anything shitty.

She was just happy for me.

Seriously? That's it?

She didn't trick you
into having the wedding

in Missouri or anything?

Nope.

Aw.

Well, I'm proud of you for
calling your parents.

That was shockingly mature of you.

- Thank you.
- Hmm.

They think I'm marrying Boone.

- And there it is.
- Good night.

Sync and corrections by btsix
www.addic7ed.com