Selfie (2014): Season 1, Episode 1 - Pilot - full transcript

The funny thing is,

People used to call me Butt-Ugly.

In my 7th-grade yearbook,
I was literally voted "Most Butt."

So I took a lesson
from Corynn McWatters,

I blew out my curls
and pushed up the girls,

Corrected my vision,
stepped up my nutrition,

Traded likes for likes,
and before long,

I was insta-famous.

I have 263,000 friends,

followers and insta-quaintances.

Not to mention the love
and respect of my co-workers,



Who happen to be on board.

Got the upgrade, ladies.

Don't be jelly, Linda.

- Is that one of ours?
- Eliza Dooley.

Our company's best-performing
sales rep? Yeah.

She's our best sales rep?
That can't be true.

That's the magic of the miniskirt,
no one's immune,

Including miller from legal,
who happens to be...

- Married, isn't he?
- She hasn't picked up on that yet.

She's been a little too busy making sure
her lipstick matches her thong.

- How do you know so much about that?
- I follow her on instagram.

Very classy.

What is this, her breakfast?

This is exactly what I can't stand.



Social media is this
giant fingernail.

Scratching this woman's itch
for constant attention.

Giant fingernail.

"Look at me, something
good happened. #Blessed."

"Look at me, something
bad happened. #Stillblessed."

"I'm at the gym. #Gymflow."

"I'm at work. #Workflow."

"I'm standing near a baby.

# Babyflow, #circleoflife, #blessed."

Your volume is really high now.

Why does her generation feel compelled
to tweet everything,

including miller from marketing's...

- Warm nuts?
- Thanks.

Thought you could escape me
in first class?

Eliza, wait.

Look, I know it's intimidating

to fall for a girl
with a strong pelvic floor

and an advertising presence
on her Facebook page...

No, it's not that.

Then what?

Devices off. Seat belts buckled.

He was married?

And I just needed
to gif my way through that.

Nausea, dizziness,
a legit case of ham tongue.

It was either the turbulence
or grinder's remorse

or a rare combination of the...

That was...

Are you okay?

- Can you please move your nuts?
- Yep.

Married.

You're married.

Why does this crap
always happen to...

So, maybe you should...

head to the bathroom now.

I think they've got a toilet
in there.

I couldn't tell what sucked more,

being drenched in panic pudding
At a cruising altitude of 36,000 feet.

Or how many people
liked seeing me that way.

Everything okay in there?

Not really.

My new boyfriend
is someone else is husband.

I barfed all over my Louboutins.

The plane is full of my co-workers.

And now I'm stranded in here,
naked and afraid.

Ma'am, I'm afraid I'm gonna need you
to vacate the lav.

Okay, I'll vacate your lav,

But can you at least grab me
an extra stewardess outfit?

I probably wouldn't
do the little lady tie,

But the skirt, yes,
and the button-down, certainly.

And why not? Sure, the vest.

Ma'am, this is not a department store.
There are no extra outfits.

Carol-June,
straight up, now, tell me.

What would you do if you were me?

I'd keep doing what you're doing.

Is this cardio barre or pilates?

- You look fantastic.
- Thank you.

But what if you didn't
want to show this off?

It's amazing what you can do

with three in-flight blankets
tied sarong-style.

I'd spent years laughing
at stupid idiots on the internet.

And now that stupid idiot was me.

Hold the elevator! Hold!

Even if you are
in a passionless marriage,

it doesn't mean adultery is okay.

You know what I wasn't in the mood for?
A lecture from my hipster neighbor Bryn.

She's the worst with her nail art
and her chevron stripes

and her non-prescription glasses
and her BFFs who love to DIY,

their top knots and Peter Pan collars
And cross body bags.

It's weird.

She defines herself by her sexuality,

but I actually think it's the least
interesting thing about her.

First, I had no idea he was married when
we engaged in gland-to-gland combat.

And second of all,

I get super horny when I travel,

and that's not my fault,
that's science.

We weren't talking about you.

We were discussing Fear Of Flying.

By Erica Jong.

We're a book club.

I know that.

How stupid do you think I am?

I tried sending an text
to my own friends.

To see if anyone
would bring me a ginger ale...

But no luck.

Is there a market close to me
that delivers?

I found five markets,
two of them are fairly close to you.

When Siri is the only person
who's there for you,

it kind of makes you realize

being friended is not the same
thing as having friends.

So, any plans for the weekend?

So, no girlfriend.

I'm just trying to determine

if it's your utter lack
of personal connections

that makes you so good at your job.

I find it rather easy not
to form personal connections

in a city that only values
wireless connection.

Good morning. How are you?

I was dreading going into work.

So I waited until the coast was clear,
like Katy Perry's skin on Proactiv.

I missed one.
Good morning, and how are you?

Did you hear? B.F. B.S...

Then hurled, overslept, OD'd on the bean,
contracted legit hamster breath.

And now I'm hella-late
for the staff meeting.

Have a nice day.

I was praying the whole company
had forgotten about my epic fail...

Or, at the very least, was willing
to make like Elsa and "let it go."

Everybody, settle down.

Bring it home, everybody.

Beautiful. Good.

Now, as you all know,
this company took a major hit

when our best-selling
pediatric nasal spray

was pulled from the shelves
for causing satanic hallucinations.

- Allegedly.
- "Allegedly" is right.

Nonetheless, the product
was recalled and reformulated.

But whether or not we could
regain the market's trust was...

TBD.

But now,

thanks to one man,

it's a big, fat "D"!

Henry, you loon, get up here!
Come on, Henry!

Come on.

We love this guy. Don't worry,
I'm not gonna make out with you.

I'm not gonna make out with you.

I lied about that.

You know, I read an article that said
Asian men are more comfortable

kissing on the mouth
as a sign of friendship.

They're not, no.

All right, I'll forward it to you.

- Thank you.
- It's good.

Folks, this man did the impossible.

He took a product whose reputation
had been badly tarnished

and rebranded it

as a product that consumers
could once again love

and trust.

If that dude in the vest
could remarket our nasal spray,

he could definitely remarket me.

And I love and trust you.

I love and trust you, too, sir.

Take a moment.

You're coming to my daughter's
wedding this weekend, right?

- I wouldn't miss it for the world, sir.
- Good. Good.

Bring a date. You're always alone.
It's kind of weird.

- I wouldn't call it weird.
- It is. It is.

What are you doing in my office?

I'm Eliza, I work in sales,
and it recently came to my attention

that I have poor instincts,
a weak stomach, no real friends, and...

- Loose sexual morals?
- Have we met?

If they make you EVP,
I'm gonna murd...

- Sorry. I see you have company.
- She was just leaving.

No, I wasn't. I'm not leaving
until you say you'll help me.

But you can't be helped.

You are addicted
to the instant gratification

of unearned adulation
from a group of perfect strangers

you insist on referring to
as your "friends."

Our nasal spray
caused satanic hallucinations,

and you fixed that.

Come on.
I just want to change my image.

- You mean be a better person?
- Or that.

Look, I'm not trying to, like,
tug at your heartstrings or whatever,

but I threw up really hard.

Like, my abs still hurt
from throwing up that hard.

And I don't know if either of you have
ever thrown up that hard... #thestruggle...

But it really makes you think.

Makes you think what?
I'm genuinely dying to know.

When I was sick, not one person
called to see if I was okay,

And I don't know why.
People used to hate me because I was butt.

Butt-ugly...
aesthetically challenged.

But I'm not butt anymore.

Eliza, I'm sure you're aware

it is possible
to be beautiful on the outside

and still butt on the inside.

Like Gwyneth Paltrow.

Okay, you need to go.

What? No. No, please.

Look, I know.
I know you don't like me.

But if you don't like me,

then just change me.

Just change me.

I don't like you.

But I can change you.

Please tell me
you're not actually considering this.

If we change your packaging...

- Her "packaging"?
- Alter her formula.

She's not a pharmaceutical product.

And yet, the same principles apply.

If we soften her palette,

improve her taste, expand her market,

I can transform this vapid...

despised social-media-obsessed
narcissist

into a valued and respected
woman of stature.

- Like Linda.
- Like Linda.

Only prettier.

- The next day, we got right to work.
- I'll need your implicit trust.

That means you do anything and everything
I say, even if it seems unorthodox.

Totally, just no backdoor stuff.

Okay, that's... Come here.
That's another thing...

You mustn't misinterpret my professional
interest as romantic interest.

- Because, I assure you, there isn't any.
- Got it. We're just friends.

We're not friends. And it's important
to me that you acknowledge that.

Fine. We're not friends,
and you're a gay dude.

I am not a gay dude.

Just go about your day
as you normally would.

- Good morning. How are you?
- Oh, my god.

That bald dude from the 12th floor took
total fart blanche in the elevator,

So if you catch a whiff of something,
it's residual him... not me. Lol.

May I point something out?

Every day, you greet Eliza?

I sure do.
I check in with everybody.

And since you've worked here,

has Eliza ever once asked
how you are doing?

You know the first thing
about this woman?

Do you...

Do you even know her name?

Charmonique.

- What?
- Charmonique.

- Ch... Ch...
- Charmon... Charmonique.

Charmonique.
Like "Monique," but with a "char."

But, in my defense,
that's not a real name.

Lesson number one,
every morning as you pass by her desk,

I want you to ask how she's doing.

Totes. Coolio. Donezo.

- Let's start now.
- Okay.

Open your lips
and repeat after me "How are you?".

How are you?

How are you?

Go-o-o-od.

Then, if you will,
a follow-up question.

"How'd you sleep last night?"

You know what? Not great.

But that's because I had
my 9-year-old in bed with me.

He has sleep apnea...

Did you hear that?
Put the phone down.

Charmonique
and her son didn't sleep well last night.

Now it's your turn to say
something sympathetic.

I'm really glad, I don't have kids.

You're not slurping.
We're making pleasant conversation.

We are not on our phones.

We are looking into each other's eyes

And giving one another
our undivided attention.

Good.

I'd like you to answer these questions
as honestly as you possibly can.

"The thing I'm most soothed
by in life is..."

The sound of gentle rain
against windows

or medium rain against rooftop
with overspill from gutters.

- I have a rain app on my phone.
- That's pathetic. Please delete it.

It's free.

"The thing I'm most confused
by is..."

Plus-size skinny jeans.

It's like, why?

Okay. Class dismissed.

Wait. I almost forgot.

I'm giving you an assignment.

Sam Saperstein's daughter
is getting married,

And I'd like you to attend
the event with me.

I think it'll be a chance
to show the higher-ups,

a side of yourself
other than the back one.

Write this down.

Makeup should be light,
your dress less tight.

Hair should be tame,
your face softly framed.

No 6-inch heels,
no cleavage revealed.

Nothing coarse, nothing sleazy,

and bring a wrap in case it's breezy.

With my credit cards maxed
and my own clothes too slutty,

I had no choice other
than to ask a friend for help.

But girls I knew were either drunk
or at soulcycle, which left...

Hold the elevator!

Bryn.

Bryn, I am so screwed.

I have this work wedding,
and I don't have anything to wear.

And if you help me, I swear,

I will never anonymously complain
to management about your book club again.

I knew that was you!

You are lucky "make-unders"
are my everything.

Bryn was on board.

What I didn't realize was

that meant the rest of her book club
was on board, too.

- Hi!
- Hi!

Come in. Come in.

How about the peach one?

Yeah, I love the peach one,
but it might be small in the bust.

Because of these?
No, these aren't real.

Still, it might be tight in the rear.

Because of this?

No, this isn't real.

Okay, we might be in business now.
Take a seat.

Were you planning on doing
your own hair and makeup?

Because I don't think
that's a good idea.

As Wren cleaned out the litter box
of my cat who died six months ago

and Eyelet dumped my old
lo mein into the trash,

I had to wonder,
is this what friends do for each other?

Rah, rah, rah-ah-ah

Roma roma ma

Ga-ga-ooh-la-la

Want your bad romance

I want your love,
and I want your revenge

You and me could write a bad romance

I want your love...

These girls knew how to get ready.

You and me could write a bad romance

- Hi.
- Hi.

You are...

wearing an enormous amount
of fragrance.

Can't you say anything nice?

Had you employed a lighter touch?

Never mind, let me grab the tiniest purse
known to man, and then we can go.

- My, that is wee.
- Yeah.

You don't even want to know
where I had to stash my phone.

No phones.

No wedding selfies, today's
about focusing on a other beauty.

Is there something funny?

You just called me beautiful.

- I absolutely didn't.
- You indirectly did.

Henry, who is this beautiful girl
on your arm?

Sir, this is Eliza Dooley.
She works in sales.

Eliza Dooley.

- Eliza, you look amazing.
- Right?

Thank you.

How are you?

Good!

And now, in lieu of vows,

Maureen will recite a poem
she wrote for Terrance.

If I'm the fire, you're the spark

If I'm the nest, you're my lark

If I'm the lock, you're the key

If I am Hook, you are Smee

- Did she say "smee"?
- Yes, I believe so.

If I'm the eye, you're the tear

If I am bagel, you're my schmear

- Why would she be bagel?
- It's unclear.

If I'm the dark, you're the light

If I'm Ben Franklin, you're my kite

If I am Nordstrom, you're the rack

If I'm a net...

As I listened to Maureen recite
those crazy vows, it hit me...

I might get thousands of likes
and retweets and favorites,

but it's entirely possible
that no one will ever look at me

the way Terrance was looking at her.

So I did what I guess
I've always done

when I needed to distract myself
from my feelings.

Do you, Terrance, take Maureen

to be your lawful wedded wife,

to have and to ho...

Sorry.

Thought it was on silent.

I'm not used to paying attention
to super-boring long stuff, okay?

No, it's not okay.

It's not just yourself you embarrassed.
I specifically said no phones.

God. Haven't you ever made
a mistake before?

Yeah, I have,
when I agreed to help you.

Are you helping me,
or am I helping you?

Don't think I didn't notice
you didn't have a date for this event.

And literally anyone else in the world
would have been a better choice.

So you admit it.

It's no surprise you don't have a date,
because you are an unfun man.

"Unfun" is not a word.

According to your ex-girlfriend's blog,
that's why she broke up with you, so...

My ex-girlfriend? Did you Google me?
Don't you dare Google me!

I was just confirming
what I already know...

You're a holier-than-thou,
antisocial, judgmental,

hypercritical

workaholic...

coxcomb!

I'm a coxcomb?

You, my dear, are a lost cause.

Super mean!

The next day, I decided

I was done socializing
and back to social networking

because the real world sucks.

- You have a good night, now.
- You, too, Charmon...

- Where's your mom?
- She went to go rinse my lunchbox out.

- You gonna let her get some sleep tonight?
- No. But you know what?

We got him one of them
sleep-apnea masks.

Come on, Kevin. Let's go.

He looks like Bane,
but he sleeps like a baby.

"I was born in the darkness."

Why'd Bane sound like
the Pepperidge Farm guy?

I don't know, but he did.

Hold up.

Did we just have a friendly exchange
that had nothing to do with you?

I think we did.

Whatever you're doing with Mr. Man,

it's working.

Henry?

Henry?

Henry?

I can see you.

You live in a glass house.

Henry!

Please open this door right now.

You opened.

This is the exit for my home.
Excuse me.

- Come on. You were leaving?
- Yes, I was.

Henry, wait.

I'm not a lost cause.

What you're doing with me,
it's working.

I wasn't on my phone
because I was bored.

That wedding gave me feels,
and that scared me,

and I lashed out
and I called you a coxcomb,

which was probably
an incorrect use of the word.

I looked it up.
It's archaic, but it's dead on.

Sounded a little bit like an apology.

And...

I'm sorry, too.

Medium rainfall on roof
with gentle overspill from gutters...

It's your favorite, isn't it?

No, Eliza, don't.

You think that you're getting it...

But you are, in fact, missing it.

And what about you?
Do you get it?

- I get it.
- You don't get it. I don't think you get it.

- You don't think that I'm getting it?
- I think I should tell you how to get it!

Something told me it had been a while
since anyone gave Henry a push...

And sometimes, we all need a push.

See? I get it.

I get it.

See, this is exactly the kind of thing
that we need to work on.

It's not funny
when someone gets injured.

Henry, I'm sorry.

You're totally right.
I'll work on that, I swear.

Sorry.

- That's tomorrow's lesson.
- Got it.

Showing compassion for others.

Great. And after that,
you can come with me to SoulCycle.

I'm not going with you to SoulCycle.

- Don't you want a rock-hard ass?
- No, I don't.

Everything okay in there?

Not really. My new boyfriend
is someone else's husband.

You're married?
The plane is full of my co-workers.

And now I'm stranded in here,
naked and afraid.

Is that one of ours?

Come on, Henry.

I know you don't like me.
I just want to change my image.

- You mean be a better person?
- Or that.

Eliza, don't.

You are addicted
to instant gratification.

You think that you're getting it...
But you are, in fact, missing it.

You're coming to my daughter's wedding?
Bring a date.

I'd like you
to attend the event with me.

- You, my dear, are a lost cause.
- I'm not a lost cause.

What you're doing with me,
it's working.

We might be in business now.