You're the Worst (2014–…): Season 3, Episode 1 - Try Real Hard - full transcript

Jimmy and Gretchen adjust to life after saying I love you. Edgar and Dorothy have sexual problems. Lindsay and Paul start a new hobby.

Oh, God. Oh, shit!

Uh-huh.

I'm gonna come! I'm gonna come!

- Um...
- I'm gonna come.

Why do you always announce it?

- What?
- You always announce it.

- I do?
- Always.

I don't know. I guess I just want

everyone to be clear that, uh...

- That this is Gretchen's moment.
- Yeah.

Gretchen has the floor.

- Oh, yeah. Oh, shit.
- Oh. Oh, yeah!

- I'm gonna...
- No! Wait.

Jesus. What?

Gretchen has the floor!

I don't know what to tell you.

We can, you know, both.

Like, at the same time?

- Why not?
- I don't know.

Will it be scary?

I don't know. It might.

- Wait, I can't... I can't stop it.
- Oh, me neither.

- I can't stop it.
- Here I...

You were so quiet.

You had the floor.

Aw.

Ow!

Oh, stop.

It's a soft case.

I'm gonna take a shower.

Might take a second.
I'm gonna wash my legs.

- You mean shave your legs?
- No.

I'm sorry?

Implying that you don't
usually wash your legs?

No.

You don't wash your legs?

No way. What am I, a sucker?

What, you take showers, and
you don't wash your legs?

What am I gonna do, like,
bend down and wash my legs?

Who has the time?

Yesterday, you spent
two hours drawing a maze.

Yeah. And how do you think I had
time to draw that sick-ass maze?

No wonder you haven't
finished your book, Jimbo.

Too busy washing your legs.

Yeah, it's book proposal.
And it's nearly done.

Hey, I forgot to mention!

Sam and the boys are having a
big secret reunion show tonight.

- You want to come?
- Nope.

It's a really important night.

Free booze.

I'll be there.

Mm. Love you.

What did you say?

Oh, my God, are you serious?

W-We said it.

No way! I didn't say it!

Uh, the night of Becca and Vernon's party.

We both said... You said it first!

I was blackout drunk!

Why would you take

- anything I said seriously?
- I seriously think

- that you may have a drinking problem.
- I don't have a problem.

- You know what, I'm not gonna let this bother me.
- Maybe you have

a "believing things
drunk people say" problem.

I told you, from the beginning,
I don't believe in it.

- But you said it.
- I might also have said

that I don't have an
opinion on your pubic hair,

or that I was gonna help
Edgar with his résumé.

Doesn't make them true.

Babe.

Babe?

Dude with his face in my business.

Uh, what's the matter?

Just, um, you've been doing
that for, like, a half hour.

Uh, uh, attention to
detail. It's an Army thing...

When are you gonna do me already?

I like making you feel good.

Is this your way of apologizing

for backing out of moving in together?

If so, forgiven.

Anyway, who am I to look a gift... whore?

- Gift head?
- Gift mouth in the mouth.

There it is.

Okay.

For Mary,
it was one argument too many.

Lindsay!

Lindsay, come out here!

Your mother cannot stay indef...

Oh. Okay, let me go put on my biking Spanx.

No, honey. You don't understand.

Being back in this house, I realized

I created a life apart from you.

All my hobbies,

my Internet activity,
my secret bank account...

Your what now?

All these separate things
created malignant distance

between us.

You're throwing
away all your nerd stuff?

From this moment on, my sole focus

will be on things we can do together.

Ah-ah-ah.

I have a very special evening planned.

- My special night?
- Tonight,

we launch our life, truly together.

As a family.

Family.

Breakfast...

tots.

This is completely...

brilliant.

Why have you just thought of these now?

I'm more creative when I'm upset.

Oh.

I have a problem.

Mm. Having a problem is
your defining characteristic.

No, I have a real problem. Um...

ever since they switched
some of my meds, I've been...

having a little trouble in the bedroom.

What, night screamings?
Sleep-to-rage?

Waking up thinking, "Why am I here?

Oh, right. Yeah, I'm
freeloading off Jimmy."

No. Bed-room.

Oh, my God! Jesus, man. Are you serious?

It's not like nothing happens,

but more like it starts to happen,

then it gets halfway there and is like...

"Nope,
I'm going back to bed."

I've gone years now successfully
never picturing your penis.

And now... there it is.

Just maybe try to...

kink it back into working order, huh?

What have you two tried? Latex?

Smooshing?

Medical play? Size training?

CFNM? Funneling?

Hazyface?

Clit negging? Ladyboy?

Nothing. Just regular.

Well, then your penis is
clearly bored to death.

Just try something.

Maybe start with some light

role-playing.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna try

and finish my breakfast without
thinking about your penis.

- Béchamel?
- Uh, I'm done.

- One, two, three.
- I already have...

Mm?

Okay.

Let's do Lemon Drops next.

Don't you have work?

Have you seen what I do?

Now that you mention it, I've never known.

How does it work? Like,
with Sam. Who pays you?

The company for which I work.

A company hired you?

They interviewed you and
then offered you a job?

Ooh, let's try cosmos next, like ladies.

Cosmos.

Why are you asking me questions?

It's just funny.

With this insane revelation that,

for some reason, you don't wash your legs.

No need. Water falls on them.

Oh, my God.

Anyway, had you not said anything,

I might have never known this fact.

So? Chug.

So? The unknowable is terrifying, Gretchen.

That's why humanity explores.

To shine a light

on the frightening dark that surrounds us.

Thus, immediately upon learning
that you don't wash your legs...

itself unimportant...

what else don't I know?

About me? Ooh, okay.

Um, I dated two of the Baldwins.

I competed in the U.S. Teen
Nationals for show jumping.

- In horsery?
- Yes, horsery.

For ten months,

I did ink work for a
professional counterfeiter.

I've never eaten a blueberry.

They are doll eyes. Think about it.

Drink.

How do I not know any of this?

I can't do a cartwheel.

An owl tried to kill me at Bible camp.

- What?
- Big sumbitch.

Sluiced right through the night air,

silent as shit.

- I think there's still a scar if you want...
- No, no, no, no.

What kind of camp did you say?

Bible camp. See, my real problem is

I was wearing a headband with
a cute little mouse on it.

Gretchen, are you religious?

No!

I consider myself more generally spiritual.

Drink.

Whew! I am hammered!

Are you hammered?

You're the best.

I'm so glad you're my boyfriend.

- Mm.
- Look, I know we weren't gonna say it,

but... screw it.

I love you, Jimmy.

- I love you.
- I knew it.

Psyche! Nice try, dummy.
I've had five shots.

I could fly a plane after five shots. Bye.

He doesn't remember saying
it. Little punk-ass bitch.

I've done tons of stuff
drunk, and it all counts:

my wedding, driving school,

all my dentist appointments.

Getting vag-fected by Paul's
wriggly little jizz monsters?

Ow! No! Ow!

- Don't pinch me!
- We are having this baby!

- It's a fresh start.
- Stop!

- You bitch!
- Quit it!

Stop it!

We're supposed to be having a meeting

about the secret reunion show tonight.

You're early. It's still my lunch hour.

I will eat those later.

You're not having this baby.

Unfortunately, being keenly in
tune with the human condition

means that after hearing this
idiotic shit for the past ten minutes,

I have thoughts. Bitch,

- he does not love you.
- Oh, goddamn it!

When you say "I love you,"

it's supposed to be romantic and/or highly

sexual.

Or when you're so overwhelmed by
what perfection is in front of you...

If you say the word "Jaclyn" one more time,

I will gag you with that
raggedy-ass bandanna!

I've never loved anyone.

I guess it's because I never
felt worthy of love in return.

Be the CEO of your own life, Gretch.

Don't wait for no one to say it to you.

Every morning in the mirror,
I purse my pillow lips up

and stare into my apple
juice eyes, and I be like,

"I love you.

"I love you, Sam.

I love you!"

"Apple juice eyes"?

Don't be trying to play
like they ain't rich,

delicious, apple juice.

That's why no one loves you.

Anyway, dudes don't say it with words,

they say it with actions.

Other bitch, get out of here.

We got to talk about the show.

I am all over it, Sam.

I have a press release ready to go.

It's a secret show!

No press release.

No industry whispers.

Um... then how will
people find out about it?

Real ballers' fans find out
clandestine style and shit.

Fetty Wap at the El Rey.

Schoolboy Q on the roof of The Standard.

Young Thug at Sufjan
Steven's broth restaurant.

No press. All packed.

Okay, but that's not actually how it works.

Gretch! No!

It has to be pure.

It's a point of pride.

Prove to the world we ain't never slipped.

Hello?

Hi.

I was just babysitting next door,

and I got bored watching
Hulu, like we millennials do.

Oh, hi. Come in.

Geez, nice place.

Reminds me of my piano teacher's house.

Sometimes we sit too close
to each other on the bench,

and our side-butts touch.

It's ac... it's actually
my friend Jimmy's house.

He let me sleep here
because I was homeless...

Dude, this is fantasy.

Oh, right. Uh...

Yeah, this is my house.

Which I bought with a
mortgage... money loan.

Yeah, well, I just moved to
town to be a YouTube star.

Don't you love my widdle baby voice, Daddy?

Whoa.

Oh, shit. Sorry.

Hey, troopmate.

What happens in the foxhole
stays in the foxhole, right?

Shit. Sorry. Ugh. I'm not very
good at this, which is weird,

because my character work
is what got me very close

on three different basic cable
hidden camera prank shows.

Let's try again.

No, no. It-It's okay.

Is it me?

Is this because I farted in
front of you the other day?

Some of my new medications
apparently can have

libido-interfering characteristics.

Well, can't you just
get them to switch them?

They have been switching them

and switching them and switching
them and switching them.

Well, your body probably
just has to get used to it.

I mean, they wouldn't have
you on something that makes you

- unable to have sex forever.
- Of course not.

And, until you figure it
out, there's probably a pill

- you could take...
- No, I'm not taking another pill.

I can't keep taking more pills and
more pills and more pills, okay?

Never mind. I'm sorry.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

It's just hard.

No, it's not. Bad, Dorothy.

This door list is as white as your ass!

Where's all the goddamn
people on this bitch, bitch?

You told me not to publicize it!

To normal people, stupid!

Where's all the media
dudes and the influencers?

Our actor and athlete fans?

Where the hell is CP3 and Marcelo Huertas

- and Bradley Cooper?
- Bradley Cooper loves us!

We got hella wasted with dude
backstage of Elephant Man.

- You remember that?
- Mm-hmm.

Where is Bradley Cooper, Gretch?

Where is Bradley Cooper?!

You forbade me from inviting anyone!

Not important people!

I hate you! This is sabotage!

Quick! Social media tsunami!

Yo. What's up, fans?

It's your boy, Sam. Come
down to the Smear, now.

Secret show. Hella shrimps!

I love you.

It's no use. We only got 20 minutes!

I cannot have snaps of an empty-ass
show all over the Internet!

Get bodies in here.

I don't care how!

Shit!

And don't forget Bradley Cooper!

Lindsay.

You look positively ethereal.

I am so excited

to open my special prize and find
out what we're doing tonight. Hmm?

- _
- "Red Napkin"?

Paul, this dress doesn't have a butt.

It's an apron.

A Napron?

Red Napkin is the finest in
seasonal, pre-portioned meals

delivered fresh, thrice weekly,
that you cook at home together.

My present is cooking?

Cooking as a family.

Family.

- You don't seem excited.
- I thought you were

taking me out, like a fun party date.

We can't party anymore. You're pregnant.

Like we talked about.

This is the next phase of our life.

And we both want that.

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Oh.

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- Gracias. Gracias, mi hija.
- Gracias.

You speak Spanish?

Who doesn't speak Spanish?

Me. Edgar.

Look, Jimmy, if you're that freaked out,

we can just unsay it, okay? Poof! Unsaid.

I'm not gonna start pretending.

I might as well start
pretending there's a person

who lives in the clouds who cares
whether we survive cancer or not.

We are strangers, Gretchen.

Bullshit. We know each other.

Well, not really.

We live together, we trust, blindly.

But it's based on what?
It's actual madness,

willingly living with a wild
animal but one with thumbs

who can steal your money
and hurt you emotionally.

So what changed? Why are you
suddenly so freaked out now?

What? I don't like that. Stop doing that!

That's why you've been
asking me questions all day?

You never cared enough to ask before.

Sam was right.

You are showing me, not telling me.

Listen, those words...

they're like a-a verbal contract.

They're a promise.

And I am not ready to make that promise.

If "I love you" is like a promise,

it's just a promise
to, like, try real hard.

Doesn't mean you can't fail.

It doesn't?

Have you met me? The only way I can stomach

any of this is knowing I
can just bail at any time.

We can just... bail?

Yeah. I always have one foot out the door.

With everything.

Especially with us.

So you might just suddenly bounce?

Any minute.

I love you.

Jimmy.

Come here.

Listen,

I'm sorry for earlier. I reacted badly.

Nah, you didn't.

Yes, I did. And I'm sorry.

Thank you.

'Cause, honestly, your
health is all that matters.

We can just, like, have
a nontraditional thing.

What do you mean?

We don't have to have penetrative sex.

You know, you can just
go down on me for hours,

like earlier.

Ha-ha. Or we can get one of those sex toys

that looks like a dolphin.

Anyway,

I am in this, regardless of limitations
or what we can't do anymore. Okay?

Thank you.

I have to hit the restroom.

Okay.

♪ I'm Steph Curry rapping,
getting digit, loads of paper ♪

♪ Sippin' martinis, snuffin',
huffin' giga-loads of vapor ♪

- ♪ Don Draper ♪
- ♪ Paper palace ♪

♪ Your house is all papyrus ♪

♪ House of cards falling down,
round somebody killed Osiris ♪

♪ Medicare, Medicaid ♪

♪ And all social services ♪

♪ Nervous kid, I'll show
your nervous grandma ♪

♪ Just what nervous is ♪

♪ Shit-talking cops like
my name was Mel Gibson ♪

♪ Sugar tits, honey dip,
choosy bitches prefer Tiffany ♪

♪ I'm so sky high while
my mind's eye is boozy ♪

♪ I deserve to be blown
before the Jacuzzi ♪

♪ I deserve to be blown
before the Jacuzzi ♪

♪ I deserve to be blown
before the Jacuzzi ♪

♪ I deserve to be blown
before the Jacuzzi. ♪

Now, as y'all know,

me and these fools were beefin'.

But squabbles is normal in a family.

So during that time, we wrote a song

that really speaks to the
soul of friendship in this

incendiary cultural time.

It's called "New Phone, Who Dis?"

Where's that simple-ass white bitch at?!

White bitch!

Here's the classic sound

of the red-winged blackbird.

For our first meal,
dear wife, we are having

hominy and poblano pepper posole,

with a warm mushroom
salad and rhubarb grits.

Now, the chatters of a house wren.

I picked up a demi-bottle
of Gewurztraminer.

Obviously, you can't have
any, so I SodaStreamed

some sparkling water with yuzu for you-zu.

Eastern meadowlarks came
to nest in our yard...

did you know an average ear of corn

has an even number of rows,

usually 16?

And humans have 32 teeth.

How's that for intra-kingdom synergy?

I'm so happy I get to do
this with you forever, wife.

We have menus for the
next six months already.

Thus, there are no surprises,

ever.

Okay, let's see.

Menu number two is jerk
venison with smashed yams...

...and garlic-ginger okra. Yum!

Lastly, we have the warbles
of an American goldfinch.

Meal number three is

gomasio-spiced parsnip soup...

Ahhhhhh!

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