Original subtitles

*

(sighs)

* I remember when *

* You were a mess *

* Said we'd look back then *

* On all of this... *

JIMMY: It's absolutely remarkable.

I've never seen anything like this.

GRETCHEN: It should be impossible,

but we've tried every option.

Paul ruins every single table.

See, there aren't enough borings for a boring table.

I mean, we could put him at the Alzheimer's table,

and they'll forget how boring he is.

Ugh. I don't want him at my wedding.

Why can't he just go to another wedding?

Gretchen, put down the Paul.

This is insane. We deserve a break

from the mind-numbing drudgery of wedding planning.

Something fun.

(gasps) Mailbox baseball in Beverly Hills?

'Shrooms at the Museum of Tolerance?

Egging golfers as Griffith Park?

No. Even better.

-Fuck Week. -Fuck Week.

Fuck Week. For a week,

we can sleep with whomever we like...

In.

You know, to get it out of our systems.

Got it. I'm in.

Oh. Well... wonderful.

Ground rules. Safety is mandatory. Otherwise, no limits.

Location: anywhere but here and the Cheesecake Factory bathroom.

That's ours. 2:01 next Sunday, it ends.

Have you done this before?

Good?

Fuck Week?

Fuck Week.

* I'm gonna leave you anyway *

* I'm gonna leave you anyway *

* Gonna leave you anyway. *

(elevator bell dings)

* I want to lay you down *

* So I can hit your split *

* You know you want to ride it *

* Come on and ride it *

* You want to ride it *

* Come on and ride it *

* Lay you down. *

Oh! Gretch! I have a sitch with Sam and the guys.

Just leak Sam's tuck shots.

That should buy you a couple weeks.

They want me to publicize their new track,

but it's really bad.

Like, Vietnam bad. Wait. Was Vietnam bad?

Listen, I just really don't have time to hold your hand

through this one. Jimmy proposed

that we have sex with other people for the week!

-Oh! -Oh, my God, Gretch.

(gasps) Let's go day-dicking like we used to.

We'll go to Barney's Beanery,

the Museum of Tolerance, Trader Joe's on La Brea...

That's the one with all the hip fuck-dads.

And Runyon Canyon for fit dick.

Mrs. Cutler? Nock Nock is here.

Send him in.

And, by the way, Mrs. Cutler is my bitch mom.

-(chuckles) -(Lindsay giggles)

(Lindsay smacks her lips)

I have a quick signing meeting.

Let me make this kid's day.

Then you and I can head down to dick island!

2:00 p.m., Runyon Canyon, by the dog water fountain.

And remember, Gretch, guys with golden retrievers eat pussy.

Nock Nock, hi.

I'm Gretchen. So nice to meet you.

Have a seat.

I'll just jump right in.

Here at Caliber, we do PR and brand management

for some of the biggest artists worldwide.

And we want to work with you.

-Congratulations. -Okay.

Everyone will know your name.

How did you get your name, by the way?

Been hearing it my whole life.

-Knock-knock jokes? -Nah.

We didn't have a doorbell.

Or a door.

Okay. Uh, should we make this "offish"?

Cool. I'll take a look at that when I hear your full pitch.

Strategy,

targets, concept art.

Of course.

Sure. My full pitch.

Great. We'll set something up.

Fu...

* Drug song *

* It's my drug song *

-* Drug song... * -JIMMY: Well, this is

an incongruous costume for you-- "Person Who Cares About Work."

(Gretchen scoffs)

This signing should be a layup, but no.

The hillbilly marathoned Shark Tank,

and now he knows what a pitch is.

And now that Yvette made me care about my job,

-I have to land him, and I hate it. -(phone chimes)

Oh. Booty text?

(scoffs) Sam. He's pissed he hasn't heard

their song on the radio yet.

Huh.

Oh. Sorry.

-This is awkward. -No!

It's Fuck Week. (laughs)

As soon as I get this goddamn pitch done, I'm gonna be

balls deep in balls.

Thanks, Edgar.

GRETCHEN: Then,

the day your new video drops,

only your face-- not your name-- is on billboards.

People will look up and ask...

(gasps) "Who's there?"

Answer: Nock Nock.

Good job. I can see you worked real hard.

Great. Then let's sign that contract. (laughs)

Listen, Gretchen, there's something

you got to know about me.

I made everything out of dirt. Whole scratch.

I'm out here alone since I was 15.

Mushing. Rectify.

"Knock Knock." "Come in." You know?

Plus, I got Charles.

(indistinct whispering)

I got to take Charles to volleyball.

I believe in you, Gretchen.

Full heart.

(footsteps approaching)

What the hell, Gretch?!

I actually had to hike yesterday

because I thought I went to the wrong side.

-You didn't get laid? -Of course I got laid.

-Did he have a golden retriever? -No.

A Rottweiler.

(gasps) Jesus, are you okay?

-Sam's on the phone for you. -She's not here!

(sighs)

I killed Sam's garbage track.

Wait a sec.

You killed it as in you called every radio station

and media outlet and convinced them not to play the track

even though they'd already received it?

And I still found time to get all in it.

Ugh. You know what? You're right.

You and Jimmy are both pulling tail.

-Screw this. -There's my girl.

Tomorrow night, Soho House.

Gretchen goes to slam town.

-(door slams shut) -(Jimmy grunts)

Come here, say hi. I'm dying.

Oh, uh... Oh, I should really take a shower.

Jesus, did you bone a catfish?

Oh. (sputters) Fuck Week.

-(whoops) Fuck Week! -So you're ready

-to finally go out, huh? -(sighs) As soon

as I finish this target monetization strat

for Nock Nock.

If I can increase his engagement levels,

land him a few key endorsements...

Ooh! Maybe I can get him a Waze channel?

(mouths)

NOCK NOCK: I'm not in it

for the money, never have been.

-You kidding? -(men growling)

-Ooh! -Guys!

Guys, I am in a meeting.

Lindsay tanked our release. Now no one's

gonna hear our fire-ass track of fire!

I keep telling them the track isn't ready.

That's not your job, Messy bitch!

-Guys, that is exactly her job! -But who the hell is she to

-tell us shit? -I am your publicist! That's who I am!

She's just some titty girl who used to hang out with you.

-I'm not some titty girl. That's insulting. -And now,

-we're supposed to listen to her? Her? -I have a job, and

-it's whatever Gretchen just said it was. Yes you are! -Her?

May I hear the track?

* Stand around while you watch *

-* How the cookie crumbles, people now * -* Cookie! *

* All your tracks, mostly made of mumbles *

* Free-associatin' shit like a poet *

-* Poetry! * -* Lookin' fly in my whip... *

-(music stops) -Forget we added that cookie line.

That is so bad. What were you guys even going for?

We've been getting a lot of moms at our shows,

and... they're not even coming to the after-party.

We're losing relevance, bitch!

Like Alanis Morissette after Jagged Little Pill.

You got a wild track in there,

but there's all this shit covering it.

You got Corn Flakes and Lucky Charms

and Cocoa Puffs.

But I just want a taste the milk.

-Who the hell is this kid?! -Guys...

I told Lindsay to hold off on releasing the song,

because I wanted to link you guys up with Nock Nock.

He's untested but very promising.

I think a collab with him

could help you get your track where you want it.

I don't know this corny, cereal-ass bitch!

-Ah, yeah. -He gets half a million

monthly listens on SoundCloud.

Nice to meet you. Nock Nock, is it?

It'd be an honor to help you guys out.

Big Titty Dreams got me through my parents' divorce.

-Oh. -See? This is a perfect example

of the extra cross-pollination that Caliber can offer.

I'm in.

-So we good? -We're not good, Gretch.

You ditched me at Soho House,

and I ended up pegging an agent from APA.

(voice breaks): APA, Gretch.

Oh, shit. You're on a Fuck Week?

That's why you've been ignoring my texts?

Yes. Duh.

Next time just say so.

*

Thanks, fam.

Okay.

I did it! I got him! Can you imagine how exciting

this would be if he were actually good?

We doing this?

(yawning): Hell yeah.

(excited moaning)

(laughing)

(both panting)

Oh, these guys are so hot!

I can't wait to put my stuff in their stuff!

Struggling actors are the best.

They have so much to prove.

Oh, where are those dummies with our drinks?

They better hurry, 'cause I'm so ready to get down

with their dicks.

You okay?

You're shaking, and your eyeballs are real shiny.

(laughing): It's because I'm so happy we're doing this.

-You? -Definitely! I am so pumped

to bone down with some strange.

(Gretchen laughs)

But you don't have to.

You've had a busy week.

My hood is extremely chapped. But I'm still down if you are.

Unless... you want to go.

(chuckles): I mean...

in a way...

that might be the crazier thing to do.

No one would see it coming.

(loud laughter)

BOTH: I don't wanna do this, either!

Oh, I'm calling it. Fuck Week's done.

Oh, thank God.

For real, I just want to find my forever dick, Gretch.

I have this gross feeling.

Maybe I'm actually fulfilled by my job.

Like, maybe it's not just someplace for me to go

to nap under my desk anymore.

And instead of celebrating this win with a bunch of dick,

all I want to do is go home and tell Jimmy.

Oh, can I crash at your place tonight?

I'm sick of hearing Becca and Vernon whisper-fight

over whose turn it is to rinse out Tallulah's eye.

-Can I borrow your lip balm? -Mm.

(sniffs)

(laughing)

Ah...

(giggles)

Oh, shit.

Ew.

Look at Jimmy's Instagram. What a pale booty.

Geez, have some standards, Jimmy.

Good night, Lindser.

GRETCHEN: Hey, Jimmy,

I forgive you for hooking up with such a flat butt.

Make room. I'm coming to spoon you.

Jimmy?

Jim...

*

(sighs)

(phone chimes)

(laughs quietly)

WOMAN: You're Jimmy Shive-Overly!

(gasps) I love you!

Sorry.

Are you alone?

-Can I join you? -Sorry, I'm on a deadline.

*

(soft hip-hop playing)

* Cookin' it, cookin' it, cookin' it, cookin' it *

* Cookin' it to the spoon *

* Catch me, mama *

* In your trap house eating macaroons... *

There you are. Food's here.

Mnm, yum!

* Druggy drug drug song... *

Last night was mindboggling.

Am I still a little tender?

Yes. (laughs)

Well, I didn't know it could bend that way.

You should be in Cirque du Soleil.

What, tonight? (mouthing)

I can't believe you're cheating on Gretchen,

after everything you've

-been through. -I'm not cheating.

It's Fuck Week. It's a week during which

-both parties... -It's in the name.

But, twist:

I am not doing any cocksmanning.

Ho-ho! What?!

I'm abstaining, because I've already participated

in Fuck Week.

I just did it before the official kickoff.

-What do you mean? -Well, having received...

underwhelming fellatio from a florist,

I've contrived this brief fermata

in our carnal fealty

to allow Gretchen to get even

-Hmm. -without her ever knowing

that there was a connubial imbalance in the first place.

So you did...

cheat on Gretchen,

and only suggested Fuck Week as a scam

to get rid of your guilt without ever owning up to what you did.

-To the simpleton. -Oh, so, what,

Gretchen sleeps with a bunch of guys--

-won't you be jealous? -(chuckles)

-I am post-jealousy. -Uh-huh.

But, as it turns out, Gretchen is too busy with work,

as ludicrous as that sentence sounds,

thus downgrading my plan to "flawed."

Just be honest with her.

Be Jimmy.

Hmm. "Being Jimmy"

means that, upon hearing advice from Dim Roommate Edgar,

I should immediately reject said advice and do the opposite.

It's settled, then. I shall double down

and lean into the illusion to motivate her.

Good backwards advice, Edgar.

You've accidentally done it again.

JIMMY: All right,

start slow.

Ease into it.

The right amount of suction is imperative.

Firm, but with an intermediate amount of pressure.

Bit of moisture should help it along,

and remember: no teeth.

I've done this before, honey.

So, where do you want me?

Right...

here.

(yells)

(Gretchen groans)

Come here, say hi. I'm dying.

Oh, uh, well, I should really take a shower.

Yo, why are you playing vids during Fuck Week?

How do you know about that?

Your girl told me how much she's fuckin'.

She's probably pregnant by now.

But she hasn't been doing it at all.

She's been working, nonstop.

-I've observed it myself. -Fool.

She's putting on a show.

Bitch is a pathological liar

who's weeks away from getting that ring.

She gonna lie even more now.

Once, when she spilled chocolate on her pants,

she told the dry cleaners that she'd shit herself

because she didn't want him to judge her.

You played yourself, man.

You let the Hamburglar into McDonald's on the honor system

and you're sitting around here just playing video games?

Thinking your burgers are safe? Your burgers

are not safe!

(laughs)

You're so stupid, Jimmy.

Oh! (laughing)

ANNOUNCER: Game over!

(laughing)

(whoops)

Stupid, stupid, stupid! (laughs)

Your burgers are not safe.

(door closes)

I've lethally miscalculated.

I thought that it would make it even,

but it's not remotely even.

I have to sleep with one person, at least.

And Gretchen is fucking so many guys.

So, so many.

I thought you were post-jealousy.

I am now mid-post jealousy.

Oh, look! Ecstasy.

Just the elixir I need to get into the perfect mindset.

Hmm, a bit crumbly.

Better take two to ensure efficacy.

When was the last time you wore that jacket?

Hmm, can't have been that long ago.

Oh, look. My old Zune.

(clicks tongue)

-(woman sighs) -(Edgar giggles)

I'm going home.

I get screwed enough at work.

(clears throat)

(stomach rumbling)

(groaning)

Am I sweating?

(stomach rumbling)

-(banging on door) -MAN: Let's go, pal! Open up!

-WOMAN: Dude, come on! -Night, night. -MAN: Let's go, buddy.

Pee and go, my man.

Ew.

Rough night, huh, buddy?

Winning!

'Twas a crazy night, indeed.

-You off? -Of course.

Last day of Fuck Week.

-(whoops) -Oh, well.

Go, go have fun.

You're so cool, Jimmy. I can't wait to marry you.

-Now I'm going to go get some dick. -(whoops)

Climb on all the dicks.

Thank God Gretchen's finally getting in the goddamn game.

What do you mean, "finally"?

She called off her only attempt at Fuck Week

to come home to you, like a lame-o.

But you were out squirting on dicks,

like you should be, playa.

Thank God you posted that gross,

pasty-ass girl butt on your Insta.

It's what finally motivated her to go dick hunting.

That was my butt.

-What?! -(Edgar giggles)

(laughs) That flat-booty bitch was you?

I didn't fuck during Fuck Week.

What?

So neither of you goobers have been banging at all?

(chuckling): Yeah, Gretchen has. Sam told me.

She lied to Sam to look cool.

God. You both

are such gigantic losers.

And I'm the only one who fucked during Fuck Week,

and it wasn't even my Fuck Week.

Well, Gretchen's about to do it.

LINDSAY: Yeah, she is.

Thanks to you.

(Edgar grunts softly)

Where are you now?

(door opens, closes)

Jealousy.

Yeah.

* I heard *

* You were going *

* Down a new way *

* You say *

* You've been lost *

* For awhile now *

(car approaching)

* But you're not sure why *

* And this... *

(car alarm chirps)

* It sparkled in our eyes... *

Wha...?

Oh, you're home.

Jimmy, thank you so much for suggesting Fuck Week.

Oh, no problem.

No, really.

To be perfectly honest, it sounded fun,

but I just wasn't feeling it at first, which worried me.

So tonight I had meaningless sex with a rando.

Oh. That's great, great to hear.

And, well, Jimmy, it made me realize

I don't want to do that anymore.

I'm happy being with just you.

And I'm not even lying to myself, which,

if I'm not lying to someone else is usually the case.

But it's true.

I just want you.

Did it work for you? You get it out of your system, too?

I actually realized that I didn't need it before you did,

so... I didn't partake.

Yes, you did.

The lipstick, the hickey, the Insta-butt?

Yeah, well, I didn't want to take Fuck Week away from you,

so I just faked it for your benefit.

No! No!

Jimmy! But I did,

which means now we're going into our marriage unequal.

No, no, no, no, no. No, no, it's... it's okay, it's okay.

I-I got my dick sucked, so, it's even.

Oh, I thought you didn't hook up this week.

No, right. No.

Didn't-didn't... didn't I say I...

I actually had a small encounter, like,

within the margin of error of said week.

Margin of error? What does that mean?

Oh, it's f... it's funny. Do you remember

when I picked out centerpieces alone l-last week?

Because I was working.

Yeah. Yeah, well, while y-you were doing that...

the florist, you know,

she kind of, um... she sucked my dick.

You... you remember, because y-you said

that I wasn't... I wasn't a bad boy.

Remember? So, yeah, yeah, technically,

it happened before the commencement.

But that is splitting hairs,

really, because

we both came to the same conclusion.

That we don't want that anymore.

So, yay, us.

(chuckling): So, wait...

you did all of this--

suggested Fuck Week, went to elaborate lengths

to make it seem like you were fucking--

so I'd fuck someone, even though I didn't want to,

just so you could feel better about yourself?

Well, um, uh, I mean, when you put it that way,

it does sound a bit foolish.

No. I'm impressed.

You are?

Makes me feel better to know you're as big of a dishonest,

disgusting fucking liar as I am.

-(chuckles) -(laughing)

Good night, Jimmy.

* Yeah, we out here winning, winning *

* Been the same since beginning *

* Yeah, we out here *

* Winning, winning, winning, winning *

* Been the same since beginning *

* I didn't come to make friends *

* Got enough of those already *

* Yeah, remind me what we came here to do *

* Get it on our own *

* Telling you we can't lose *

* Winning, winning, winning, winning *

* Been the same since beginning *

* Yeah, we out here winning *

* Winning, winning, winning *

* Been the same since beginning. *

(dog barks)

Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH

Repair and Synchronization by Easy Subtitles Synchronizer 1.0.0.0