Jimmy: My frame of reference for love has always come from literature. In my brooding youth, Bronte encapsulated my viewpoint thusly: "The trouble is not that I am single and likely to stay single, but that I am lonely and likely to stay lonely." But as I grew up, my darkening view was more Shakespeare: "Love is merely a madness and I tell you, deserves as well a dark house and whip as mad men do." But now... now... since you... to my abject horror, my view on love can best be described by Nicholas Sparks in The Notebook: "It's not easy... it's hard... and you have to work at it, but it's worth it... because I want you... I want all of you... forever."
Or something like that.
♪ I'm gonna leave you anyway I'm gonna leave you anyway ♪
♪ Gonna leave you anyway. ♪
Sam: ♪ I'm here ♪
Shitstain: Uh... uh... uh.
Sam: ♪ I think I saw a deer ♪
Honey Nutz: What?
Sam: ♪ I'm about to kill the deer ♪
♪ And get some meat ♪
Shitstain: Uh... uh.
Sam: ♪ 'Cause I'm hungry. ♪
♪ Everybody talking 'bout they homies ♪
Sam: ♪ My chain bling, bling! ♪
♪ Now these girls owe me... ♪
(Both sniffling, sighing)
Lindsay: Tomorrow... we meet with the flower guy... then we're tasting cakes, and then me and, uh...
Gretchen: You don't know your fiancé's name?
Lindsay (Laughs): Of course I know his... don't be dumb.
I'm just wired!
Gretchen: Call it off.
Lindsay: No way!
You should've seen Becca's dumb face when I told her I was getting married before her and mom has never paid me so much attention.
I should've gotten married when I was 12.
Gretchen: All right, you have to promise me something... cross your tits, hope to die... that even though you're getting m-m... married... we are gonna keep this party going, right? 'Cause this is how this starts.
First, you get married, then you get some bullshit job, then you have kids and then you die. But what you don't know... is that you were dead the entire time.
Lindsay: I'm on a lot of drugs right now, can you not tell me I'm dead? I promise!
I got to go pee.
Sam (Sighs): Ah... How was it?
Engineer: Oh, dope, Sam.
Sam: Not you, bitch.
Sam: You, bitch!
Gretchen: What? Oh, me?
No... I'm just Rick's shitty assistant.
Sam: That Harvey Weinstein-on-antibiotics lookin' nerd couldn't be bothered to attend the final mix of my first major album?!
Gretchen: He sent muffins.
Hey, can I ask you guys something?
Is... that how you normally dress?
Shitstain: What, like, in our regular lives?
Like when we go to the farmer's market?
Honey Nutz: Uh... Rick suggested that we cultivate a street-look.
Gretchen: What do you usually look like?
Sam: Annoying, white, skater kids from Venice at a rave.
Gretchen: Well, then...
I don't know, maybe dress like that.
Sam: Tell Rick he's fired. You're our new publicist.
Gretchen: What, me? N-No... I'm not a... (Laughing)
I'm not looking for a real job.
Sam: Tough sh1t, bitch!
You in it now.
Steeb: I'm speaking with Jimmy Shive-Overly about his...
pugnacious debut novel, Congratulations, You're Dying.
Tell us about your writing process.
Jimmy: Rage, heartbreak... alcohol.
Jimmy: I woke up one day and found myself happy. It was awful.
Steeb: Mm... Elucidate, please.
Jimmy: The lass eviscerated me, as lasses are wont to do.
That was about a year and a half ago.
Best thing she ever could have done for me.
Steeb: The book?
'Twas a result of that disemboweling.
It was then I learned the truth of my writing.
I suck when I'm happy.
You have to be miserable to produce?
Jimmy: Oh, I wouldn't say, "miserable," but I'd say constant horror and bone-deep dissatisfaction is helpful.
Steeb: You're listening to Folio. I'm your host, Steeb
Corniglia, here with the puissant Jimmy Shive-Overly.
Jimmy, it seems to me endemic in your work, that the parental characters obfuscate by playing almost prosaic arpeggios on the central motif.
Jimmy: I'm glad you picked up on that.
Edgar: How scary is America now... bitch?!
Jimmy: I don't have any change, I don't have any change!
Edgar: What? No.
Jimmy: I used to buy weed from you.
Edgar: That's me.
Jimmy: Get off me!
Edgar: How's it going?
Jimmy: Yeah, great. I just got done doing a, uh, radio show about my new novel.
Edgar: That's awesome.
I'm happy for you.
Jimmy: You don't look so good. Here, I got something for you.
Free of charge. I'll even sign it.
So what's the latest?
Edgar: Actually, I got home from lraq and things have been... sort of hard, in terms of adjusting.
Jimmy: Well, hey, if things ever get really dire, I've got this chaise on my deck, you could always sleep there for a night.
Edgar: Awesome. Could, sh-should we, sh-should we go now or...?
Jimmy: Right, so if... things ever get really dire, the publisher's e-mail's in the back of the book. All right, bye.
You son of a... bitch!
Interviewer: Sam! Sam, Sam. Hey.
You guys recorded a song for the soundtrack, correct?
Sam: I don't know. Is it a song?
Interviewer: Right! Well, what do you make of the themes of the movie? I mean, it is at it's heart, a war movie.
Is that the theme...?
Gretchen: The guys are so excited to have contributed to such an esteemed director's film and... you know where I'm going with this.
Just finish the quote for me.
(Ty clears throat)
Ty: Ty Wyland. The director.
That you were just talking about.
Gretchen: Where'd you get the drink?
(Ty laughs wryly) TY: I'll show you if you agree to get dinner with me sometime.
Gretchen: Yeah... dating's not really my thing.
Ty: Good. Me neither. So I'll call you in a couple weeks? Heading to lndia for a little bit.
I warned you.
Nestor: I'll call you.
Gretchen: Listen, Nestor, I am flattered, but I've been kind of seeing someone for about a year now.
I'm actually on my way to his house right now.
So I won't be coming over to your hotel.
But, trust me, the guys are over the moon about the photo shoot. You are their favorite photographer by miles. Mm-hmm.
Ciao. (Turns up volume)
Dude, I'm on my way to your house.
Aw, sh1t. sh1t!
(Dog barking in distance)
(Indistinct police radio communication)
Jimmy: It's been a year! Where the hell are my royalties?
Because I need them to live off of.
Yes, I know Junot Díaz writes for Esquire, but I am a novelist. Yeah, I'm-I'm working on the follow-up, but it's-it's slow going and...
I'll talk to you later.
Edgar: I'm nervous, Jimmy.
I-I haven't been to a big social event since I've been back.
Are you sure they know I'm coming?
Jimmy: Yes. Get in.
Edgar: Are you sure... it's even a good idea that you go?
Jimmy: What's the worst I could do?
Edgar: Okay. Fine.
Jimmy: No, seriously, what is the worst I could do?
I've been up all night working on my list of ways to ruin their wedding. I keep getting stuck around "Seduce the groom's mother."
Killian: Hi, new neighbors! Hi!
Lindsay: Were the other jail girls mean?
Did any of them try to make out with you?
Gretchen: No. But one girl kept some pretty strong eye contact with me while she was on the toilet.
Paul: Well, we should vámonos, señoritas.
Gretchen: What'd you get them, anyway?
Lindsay: A food processor.
Gretchen: (Scoffs) I don't get it. Why does everyone feel the need to have these things, these, like, symbols of adulthood?
Like, a food processor? Why do you need this stuff?
Paul: That's an interesting question.
I think, maybe, it means you're investing in your future.
You may not use it every day or even very often at all, but knowing that at any moment you could make pesto without having to borrow a friend's or improvise some lesser method, that knowledge, that possibility, makes you an adult.
Lindsay: Plus, this one, it's, like, one level worse than ours, so Becca can never beat me.
Man: ♪ Mm-hmm, hmm, hmm Yeah ♪
♪ Aw, yeah... ♪
Wedding Coordinator: I'm sorry, Jimmy. You didn't include a name for your plus-one so we didn't hold the space.
Edgar: Jim-Jim... Um, I-I could help serve food or...
Jimmy: I put in two years penetrating the bride at least thrice weekly.
I deserve to have a friend here.
Wedding Coordinator: I'll see what I can do.
Paul: Hey, Jimmy.
Jimmy: Sorry, have we met?
Paul: Okay. I get it.
Shut the door on the former life.
I think it's very brave of you to have come.
Jimmy: Mmm. Thanks. You.
Wedding Coordinator: Okay, I found you a seat.
Gretchen: One day all my L.A. friends were married, with houses and adult jobs, Instagramming every time they went to the ArcLight. So, basically, there's nothing keeping me here. And I figured if I want to move to New York, where I still have friends who aren't collecting their eggs in petri dishes, why not?
Bartender: So you don't want the drink?
Gretchen: So I am moving tomorrow.
To New York. I'm not even gonna say good-bye to anyone. I hate good-byes.
Bartender: Leaving a whole city lrish, huh?
Gretchen: Hey, what do you think a nice food processor goes for?
Bartender: I don't know. 400, 500 bucks?
Gretchen: Seriously? Sweet.
Edgar: So, uh, are you all... you all gonna have the nuggets or-or the mac and cheese? I can't decide.
(Clears throat) So, what do you do?
Girl: I'm a child.
Are we getting together after or...
Jimmy: No, you're right. This day isn't about me, is it?
Becca: What were you gonna say?
Jimmy: Forget it.
Becca: No, I'm serious.
I really want to know what does the brilliant Jimmy Shive-Overly think about me!
Jimmy: I'm not one for psychic thought or oracles, but, Rebecca...
(Quietly): you and I have not made love for the last time.
Paul: ...and, Vernon, to you, I just want to say, "Welcome to the family. It gets better."
Vernon: (Chuckles) What a dork.
Becca: I can't believe it took them two months to edit our wedding video.
Vernon: Dave did it for free.
Becca: Yeah, well, you get what you pay for.
Oh, I talked to Aunt Helen. She insists she got us a blender. You don't have to get us a wedding gift, but don't lie about it.
Lindsay: Um, anyway, I love you so much.
And, remember, there is no shame whatsoever in getting married two years after your little sister.
Siblings mature at different rates.
Becca: What a cooze.
Vernon: Paul, did you hear? Jimmy took a photo of his dingus on every one of our disposable cameras.
What a classic heckle. Becca recognized it on account of it having been in her mouth so much.
Paul: Did you hear? They broke up.
Vernon: Who? Jimmy and Gretchen? No.
Gretchen's really upset. I can't say I'm that surprised.
They're both quite spirited.
That's a bummer. I should call him.
He's probably waiting to hear from me.
Let me get one of those?
Becca: These are pretty expensive.
Jimmy: Superman is aware that kryptonite is his kryptonite, and he keeps getting mixed up with it anyway.
Women, romantic happiness, is my kryptonite.
I got complacent being with Becca and produced shit-all.
And the minute she left me twisting up on that hill with that ring... Bam, the book came to me.
Whole cloth. And then... then I did it again.
At that selfsame succubi's wedding, no less.
And, no doubt, my work suffered being with Gretchen.
And now, having broken up with her is guaranteed to release the words. In fact, I can feel all my creative juices returning to me already.
I wouldn't be surprised if I started playing guitar again.
Nope. Would not be surprised at all.
Cheers, mate. This is normally where you make a weird non sequitur and I chastise you and continue talking.
Edgar: Yeah, well, with Gretchen, you've been actually kind of fun to be around, but if you're telling me that we're going back to you being a hundred percent dick so that you can write another stupid book I won't read? (Scoffs) Uh-uh.
Jimmy: Whoa, what are you doing? You never pay for drinks.
Edgar: I'm done owing you stuff, Jimmy.
Jimmy: Oh, sit down, man.
Edgar: Don't tell me what to do. You don't get to tell me what to do anymore!
Jimmy: It's PTSD.
He's all right, he's fine.
Edgar: You know that night you met Gretchen? Do you remember how nervous I was to go to Becca's wedding? How crowds freak me out?
Jimmy: That was a lifetime ago.
Edgar: It was two months ago. You brought me as a prop and then forgot about me. I had to sit with a bunch of very condescending and unfriendly children who wouldn't even invite me to the after party.
I'm going to get my stuff. I'll leave the keys on the table.
You didn't read my book?
Edgar: No way.
It looked crazy boring.
Jimmy: Well, fine, go.
You're only helping me. Now I'm even... even more alone.
Vernon: Hey, I got something for you.
Vernon: That's for you.
It's a gift, right from the heart.
(Car door shuts, engine starts)
Vernon: She left. Huh. Bitches be trippin'.
Speaking of bitches, where'd you say Lindsay was?
Paul: Comforting Gretchen after the breakup.
Let's bust open some scotch and get dumb.
Paul: I really shouldn't. And didn't you say you have surgery in the morning?
Vernon: Come on, Paul.
Don't be such a fa...
Sam: ♪ Part scorpion ♪
Singers: ♪ Uh-huh ♪
Sam: ♪ Part accordion ♪
Singers: ♪ Uh-huh ♪
Sam: ♪ Lord, according to Tom Ford, I'm born again ♪
(Honey Nutz and Shitstain whoop)
Sam: ♪ I'm a cash box drippin' full of fives and tens ♪
♪ I'm the sarcophagus, the parasites, so put me in ♪
Shitstain: Let's go!
Honey Nutz: ♪ You in the Thunderdome, son, with the young one writin' a blank check like ♪
♪ If my name was Young Gun ♪
Shitstain: ♪ Pass the iced tea, I'm parched, Middlemarch, cookie fart, false start, All parched... ♪
Lindsay: Marriage is such bullshit. Why didn't you warn me?
Gretchen: The morning of your wedding, I said, "Lindsay, don't do this."
Lindsay: The girls are back.
Gretchen: Oh, thank God. I never told you... I was gonna move to New York after Becca's wedding.
I was like, "Everyone's getting so serious about everything.
Ooh, my marriage, my career, I have groceries."
I was like, "Nothing's keeping me here, let's go."
Gretchen: Okay what?
Lindsay: Let's go. Let's go.
Gretchen, nothing's keeping me here, either.
Lindsay: Think about it.
We can do drugs and go to weird Puerto Rican dance halls and take so much New York dick that our pussies start talking like, (New York accent): "Oh, another one... fuggedaboutit."
But they won't forget about it, Gretch, because we're just that memorable.
Gretchen: How much blow have you done?
Lindsay: Oh, my God, I'm so excited about this plan that I have to pee.
(Sam whoops, laughs)
Sam: Yo, what the hell are you doing?
Gretchen: Partying, what?
Sam: This is where we work.
Gretchen: Come on. This is where you do drugs and make up nonsense into the mic.
Sam: You know, you were actually a pretty good PR rep, there. But lately, your ass has been tragic. If Rick hadn't died in that Jet Ski accident his ass would be replacing you right now.
Gretchen: You do the same dumb stuff I do.
Sam: Bitch, I am 21. You're 30.
Lindsay: Hey, blood... (Giggles)
Should we live in a studio in New York?
If we bang the same guys we only need one bed.
Gretch, do coke off my titties.
Gretchen: I... I'm gonna go home.
Lindsay: With who, Shitstain?
'Cause I'll take the other one.
Gretchen: No, alone.
This feels like someone else. I don't know.
I'm sorry. I'm gonna go home, I'm gonna take a shower and I'm gonna figure out what I'm gonna do with my life. Maybe you should, too.
Lindsay: Are you goddamn kidding me?
You always give me sh1t for being married and now I'm cheating on my husband and you bail?
You always bail on me, and I'm sick of it.
Gretchen: I can only help myself, Linds, sorry.
Lindsay: Fine! I don't need you!
Jimmy: Come on. sh1t.
(Knocking on door)
Becca: Well, you were right, Jimmy.
Here I am.
Becca: Your prediction. At the wedding.
Jimmy: What are you talking about?
Becca: "You and I have not made love for the last time."
Jimmy: Why would you say that?
Becca: No, you said that. At my wedding.
Jimmy: I did? Well, that was quite a heckle.
Becca: Oh, shut up. Come on, let's go.
Jimmy: Becca, please... What are you doing?
Becca: Is this a joke? Are you not gonna have s*x with me?
Jimmy: Becca, you're married.
Becca: Oh, my God. You are a sociopath.
I should've known. I-Is my entire life just a game to you?
Jimmy: Becca, please, why don't you just go home? Get some sleep.
You look tired.
Becca: Oh, my God, are you...
(Cat meows) (Purring)
(Jimmy blows air)
Jimmy: ♪ You and I... ♪
♪ Something, fly... Do, do, do ♪
♪ With love for-for... Y-You ♪
♪ I want to fly (Off-key): I want to fly Fly-y... ♪
♪ Bom, bom, bom... ♪
♪ Dun, dun Back, back, back... Home. ♪