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You're the Worst

You're the Worst (2014-present) is an American single-camera comedy-drama series created by Stephen Falk, originally for FX, and currently FXX. It is centered on Jimmy, a self-involved writer, and Gretchen, a self-destructive Los Angeles PR executive. These two toxic personalities attempt a relationship.

Contents

Season 1Edit

Pilot [1.1]Edit

Insouciance [1.2]Edit

Jimmy: [watching Ferris Bueller's Day Off] This movie has one of the greatest villains of all time.
Edgar: Yeah. Principal Rooney is so mean.
Jimmy: Rooney? Rooney's not the villain.
Edgar: Oh, you mean the sister, that girl from...
Jimmy/Edgar: ...Dirty Dancing/Wind.
Jimmy: Okay, first of all, Wind is what you retained from Jennifer Grey's career? And no, she's not the villain either.
Edgar: Then who is?
Jimmy: Cameron.
Edgar: Cameron? No. Cameron's his best friend, Cameron's his sidekick.
Jimmy: Edgar, I think I know a little something about Campbellian storytelling. Ferris is the hero, Jennifer Grey is the foil, Principal Rooney is the fool, Sloane is the sidekick, Cameron's the villain.
Edgar: Wait, how is Cameron the villain?
Jimmy: Ferris just wants to show Cameron a fun day for once in his pathetic little life, but Cameron acts like a whiny knob the whole time, subverting every attempt at fun with his passive-aggressive anxiety and relentless nay-saying, essentially ruining what might be Ferris's last day of freedom by being a miserable, agoraphobic, cockblocking enemy of fun!
Edgar: Cameron's sick, he doesn't even want to go out, but Ferris guilts him into it and...and makes him steal his father's luxury automobile.
Jimmy: Are we even watching the same movie?
Edgar: I think so.

Keys Open Door [1.3]Edit

What Normal People Do [1.4]Edit

Jimmy: Day drinking's the best.
Gretchen: Day drinking is the best! Aren't we lucky we're both in professions where we can day drink?
Jimmy: Are you in a profession where you can day drink?
Gretchen: They all are if you want it bad enough.

Sunday Funday [1.5]Edit

PTSD [1.6]Edit

Equally Dead Inside [1.7]Edit

Finish Your Milk [1.8]Edit

Gretchen: They're my parents! I get to lie to them until I'm old and they're dead, and you don't get a vote! I would never tell your dad to read your book!
Jimmy: That's because he wouldn't let you in the door, because you're a redhead, and he's hated the Irish ever since the IRA blew up his favorite chip shop.

Constant Horror and Bone-Deep Dissatisfaction [1.9]Edit

Fists and Feet and Stuff [1.10]Edit

Season 2Edit

The Sweater People [2.1]Edit

Paul: Do you even know what love means?
Lindsay: Yeah, it's like, "Hey, I love you. Smooch, smooch. Now go make me some bagel bites."
Paul: Love isn't about having someone to get you things. Love is putting someone else's feelings above your own. Do you think you could ever do that? Honestly?
Lindsay: Ew. [beat] I didn't mean that.

Crevasses [2.2]Edit

Saleswoman: You've been standing here for 20 minutes. Can I help you find something?
Gretchen: No, I'm fine. I'm waiting for someone. My son... actually. Jayden?
Saleswoman: Cart paralysis. It's very common. What do you need to get?
Gretchen: Everything! I just moved in with my boyfriend and I don't have any stuff except for a food processor and, like, nineteen thongs, because even though at first we were like, "I am not wearing that," the patriarchy somehow convinced us that visible panty lines were unacceptable, so now I've just grown accustomed to the feeling of a fabric rope against my actual asshole all day. And anyway, even if I did buy the stuff of a life, there's nowhere for me to put it because I'm not sure this dude really wanted me to move in because I'm an irresponsible monster who burned down her apartment with her vibrator!
Saleswoman: I'm just gonna leave you with this checklist for college freshmen.

Born Dead [2.3]Edit

Jimmy: It's just like I told Gretchen. Friends are for babies. And just because I fell in feces and all the kids called me "Shitty Jimmy," and I was the smartest kid in my class, that has nothing to do with why I don't need friends.

All About That Paper [2.4]Edit

Jimmy: [talking to Gretchen on Facetime] Hey. Do you want to get a lap dance with me?
Gretchen: Oh, hell yeah, I do. [Jimmy puts phone in jacket pocket and maneuvers around] Oh, no, no, no, no, the one with the C-section scar.
Jimmy: Which one?

We Can Do Better Than This [2.5]Edit

Jimmy: Do you know what I'd rather experience than long-form improv? Long-form bone cancer.
Edgar: Point taken.
Jimmy: No, I don't think it is. See, you just described an improvised comedy scene to me. That's worse than telling someone about a dream that doesn't feature them sexually. I mean, you've had some awful, awful hobbies, but this is by far the worst. And I'm including heroin and not knowing things are a school.
Edgar: I didn't know it was a school.

Side Bitch [2.6]Edit

There Is Not Currently a Problem [2.7]Edit

Jimmy: What is going on with you?!
Gretchen: The only thing going on with me is I am trying to make due being stuck in this house, and you're obsessed with this stupid mouse! I know, let's do shots. [Picks up two empty bottles] Oh, my God, we're out of booze.
Jimmy: Good. I think you've had enough.
Gretchen: You've had enough. Edgar! Edgar! We're out of booze.
Edgar: We'll make a run later. [beat] M-Maybe Jimmy's right. Relax.
Gretchen: Relax? Says the guy so riddled with anxiety, he can't sleep through the night without screaming!
Edgar: Yes, well, uh, we all know that I'm taking the prescribed steps to overcome the very common issues caused by combat situations.
Gretchen: Ugh! We know. You were in a war. Get over it! And while you're at it, get over Lindsay. Have enough self-respect not to focus on someone who's still clearly obsessed with her lame, soft ex-husband.
Lindsay: This is really hard for me.
Gretchen: Oh. "Waah. My husband left me for a female him, and now I can't function in life. Waah!"
[Dorothy laughs, causing Gretchen to turn to her]
Gretchen: Oh, and you! Theater girl!
Dorothy: Yes?
Gretchen: Improv is the lowest form of comedy. That whole school of yours is just a bunch of actors so janky-looking, no one will write lines for them, so you have to make them up yourself.
Dorothy: [into it] Aw, shit.
Gretchen: You're what this town calls a tweener. You're not hot enough to be the lead, and not fat enough to be the funny friend.
Lindsay: You already did me!
Vernon: Do me, do me.
Gretchen: Not worth it.
Vernon: Aw, man.
Jimmy: Look, as spectacularly entertaining as this is, maybe you should take a breather.
Gretchen: And then there's Jimmy.
Jimmy: Aw, shit.
Gretchen: No, seriously, Jimmy, I feel such empathy for you, being a writer. I mean, everyone feels sorry for kids forced to work in the diamond mines in Sierra Leone, but where is the telethon for the noble writer? Bravely drinking coffee, spilling his blood to get his feelings out, filling two, maybe three whole pages before his heroic effort is cut short by the desire to watch Internet porn or get a snack! All of you! Sucking the air out of the room with your self-pity-riddled non-problems! Except you, Vernon. You got real issues. You're married to Becca.
Vernon: Ha! Vernon, ya burnt!
Gretchen: This place is an emotional black hole, and if it wasn't for the runners—yes, they have a name, they're not just "the people," you giant doofus—I would be driving as fast as I could away from you all! But I can't! Because apparently, I live here now, due to completely-beyond-my-control wiring issues for which there will be a lawsuit. Yes! There will be a lawsuit! [sniffles] There will be no lawsuit.

Spooky Sunday Funday [2.8]Edit

LCD Soundsystem [2.9]Edit

Jimmy: I have here three envelopes stamped and addressed, each containing something horrible I do not want mailed under any circumstances. On the back are dates and page counts. I miss a deadline, you mail the envelope. In ascending order of horribleness: a check to BAMLA, a love letter to Becca, and the worst, an invitation for my family to come visit, all expenses paid. I mean, the horror of any of these being mailed is so severe that it will serve as all the motivation I need to write.

Lexi: To be a slave to an idea of coolness is why some of your friends never grow and in the end are actually less themselves, and counter-intuitively live less authentic lives than the buyers-in.

A Right Proper Story [2.10]Edit

Jimmy: "Flight itinerary: Heathrow to L.A.X." No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. This cannot be happening. Why would my family be flying here?! They can't do that.
Gretchen: So tell 'em to suck your dick.
Jimmy: Well, I can't tell them "to suck my dick," Gretchen, because they're already in the air! They arrive in the morning. "For four days"?! Why the hell are they...? Gretchen, the, uh, the-the... the letters that I gave you, you-you didn't...?
Gretchen: Yeah, I mailed them like you asked.
Jimmy: No! Why would you do that?! They were just threats, so if I didn't hit the page count, you were to mail the letters!
Gretchen: I don't get it.
Jimmy: Oh, my God, and the love letter to Becca. And there was a third one. What was it?
Gretchen: Oh, yeah, it was bad. I remember that.
Jimmy: I'm already regretting not slapping you harder.

Jimmy: You must be in university by now.
Lilly: Oh, I was going to go, but they pointed out that university is just a place wankers go to study poetry and fist themselves.

Lilly: Was it hard to write a book, Jimmy? I'm so proud of you. I always tell the other girls at Fancy Dames about my famous brother in America.
Jimmy: Fancy Dames, the strip club? Last time I saw you, you were reading Harry Potter.
Lilly: Well, I did get a tattoo of Dobby the House Elf on my...
Jimmy: It's okay.

Lindsay: I thought all English people were fancy, but these are like Alabama English people.

Jimmy: Did you know my entire childhood was spent with the lot of you incessantly mocking me. The first time I learned to ride a bicycle and fell into that pile of loose lead. [The family laughs] My phase of wearing Mum's high heels. And, yeah, the famous Shitty Jimmy incident, which, if you remember, only happened because Fi pushed me!
Fiona: In my defense, I only pushed you so you'd fall in shit!
Jimmy: And now you've come to cow me again? Well, it will not work. Do you know why? Because I understand that you're not the sisters I looked up to, or the father whose... or the father whose approval I desperately wanted. You are just unhappy, uneducated garbage! And I want you out of my house! [They laugh more] It's not funny!

A Rapidly Mutating Virus [2.11]Edit

Vern: Killer hook, Linds.
Lindsay: Thanks. And guess what. We're going to Fire 103 today to drop the song on Trace's show.
Vern: Nice!
Becca: Well, I better get back to it. Oh, creating a human life. I got to tell you, it is so fulfilling. But making a grammatical nightmare of a song with Gretchen's psychopath client, that's a really big deal, you know, for you.
Lindsay: Oh, hey. Tomorrow I'm eating runny cheese and going on an inverted roller coaster. Want to come?
Becca: [getting it] Okay.
Lindsay: Oh, sorry, I forgot. You can't ever do anything fun because you're ruining your body with some ginger-headed parasite.
Vern: Ha!
Becca: Whatever. In five months, I will be on a Disney cruise with my family, while you're at divorce court, looking back on the time someone took pity on you and let you sing on their stupid song.
Lindsay: "New Phone Who 'Dis" is not a stupid song. It's about texting!

Jimmy: Red licorice vodka? Were you expecting Chris Hansen?
Gretchen: Why are you here?
Jimmy: Last night, a certifiable fox hit on me, and I did not respond. I masturbated furiously afterwards, but only after I'd rejected her.
Gretchen: You need to stop. It's like you have amnesia. Every day, you think things are gonna be different, and I'll just be happy. Well, maybe you can understand this. I feel nothing. About anything. Dogs, candy, old Blondie records, nachos, you, us, nothing. So for the last time, please go.

Other Things You Could Be Doing [2.12]Edit

Gretchen: I can't say it again. I can't.
Jimmy: I just still can't understand. Can you...can you explain it to me, please?
Gretchen: I'm scraped out. I'm... that car we sent to Mars, flipped upside down so the sun can't reach my solar panels. I've always been able to flip myself back over eventually but...I ran out of times. This is how I am now. And it's not okay with you. Nor should it be.
Jimmy: Okay. Well...I suppose it's good that this happened now, instead of like... ten years down the line.
Gretchen: Yeah.
Jimmy: I'll be back in a couple of days.
Gretchen: I'll be out by the time you get back. Have fun. You deserve it. Whoever she is.

Gretchen: [waking up to find Jimmy has built a blanket fort around her] You stayed?
Jimmy: Yeah.
Gretchen: [crying] You stayed.

The Heart Is a Dumb Dumb [2.13]Edit

Gretchen: So you kissed, and then what happened?
Jimmy: Then she showed me her bronze medal.
Gretchen: She did? Why?
Jimmy: Because she was understandably proud of it.
Gretchen: She...she was proud of her bronze medal?!
Jimmy: It's quite beautiful, close up. [Gretchen is disgusted] What?
Gretchen: Why would a person just show someone their butthole?!
Jimmy: What?! No! A real bronze medal! Why would you think I meant a butthole?
Gretchen: Well, you said "bronze medal." I mean, it is the third-best hole. Brownish.

Jimmy: [at "Level Four" drunk] Do you guys know my girlfriend Gretchen? She's supposed to be here. She got sad for a long time. That was hard. I'm used to being the complicated one. Like...like with Becca. Becca's like a Monday crossword. Gretchen...Sunday. Takes...takes all day, but it's rewarding as hell.

Gretchen: You know, after I cleaned the fries off your face and put you to bed, you said something to me that was pretty dark.
Jimmy: Don't tell me.
Gretchen: Okay. I won't. [pause] I love you too.

Season 3Edit

Try Real Hard [3.1]Edit

Fix Me, Dummy [3.2]Edit

Gretchen: There is a stack of mail that I have been avoiding.
Justina: Why?
Gretchen: They always want money, or you have jury duty, or your grandma sent you a check for your birthday, and then you feel guilty that you never call her, and then you can't get out of bed for a month. Anyway... mail. Does that count for your stupid-ass...? Ugh, sorry.
Justina: It's all right, I'm a professional. You can say anything you want in here.
Gretchen: Hmm. Anything? Really? Does opening the mail count for your one little asshole thing, you goddamn cock? You suck-balls dumb dick?
Justina: Sure.
Gretchen: Fine, jizz-magnet. I will open one piece of mail.
Jimmy: Say "whore."
Gretchen: Whore.
Jimmy: Whore.
Justina: I'm regretting giving you license to say anything. Plus I do kind of want to fight you right now. Too late. No take-backsies. Titty-sucking bitch.

Paul: I'm a terrible patient. When I had the mumps, Mother threatened to send me to foster care.

Edgar: I really like the adjustments.
Jimmy: Well, your asinine notes started a thought process of actual, usable fixes. I had to cut the scene in the cockpit of the plane where Joachim Kirschner masturbates during his bombing run on London, but the section is still highly erotic.
Dorothy: Did you take out the thing with Roger spanking his nephew?
Jimmy: What, you let Dorothy read it?!
Dorothy: I thought the sample chapters were great...
Jimmy: Thank you. It's so nice to hear from fans.
Dorothy: ...just potentially very alienating to women.
Jimmy: This is literature, okay? It shall sing its own song, uncaring if sensibilities are too delicate. Anyway, it feels like we keep forgetting the proposal's in already. It's done.
Dorothy: Okay. Just so many descriptions of semen on stockings.
Jimmy: Stockings are a sign both of the deprivation of the Second World War and how much the repressed Kitty's slutty little legs wanted semen on them! What is alienating about that?

Gretchen: To think you know how other people should think and feel. That is someone with something seriously wrong with them. That's psychopath behavior.
Lindsay: So what do we do when she finally comes out?
Gretchen: We follow her home and egg her house. Duh. I had a better plan, but apparently pig's blood is, like, 12 bucks a quart.

Gretchen: Being vulnerable makes me angry!
Justina: I get that. Being vulnerable is scary. But most people don't even try. Like my boyfriend. He never wants to talk about his stuff. He just squashes it down and keeps it all on lock.
Gretchen: Okay. So what happens to people like your boyfriend?
Justina: Oh, no... I don't know. We'll see, I guess. Hopefully he stops wearing zip-up cargo shorts. But I know locked-down shit eventually becomes unlocked-down. Eventually, a person has to start taking responsibility for their own life.
Gretchen: See? There it is. You're-you're blaming me again.
Justina: Calls 'em like I sees 'em.
Lindsay: What was that you were saying about taking responsibility? Ow.
Justina: Look, I can guide, but a patient has to do the work themselves. Eventually we all have to take responsibility for our own life. So, I'll see you next week, maybe? And don't stalk me again. 'Cause you guys suck at it.
Lindsay: [looking on as Justina leaves] I am so wet right now.
Gretchen: Back off, bitch.

Bad News: Dude's Dead [3.3]Edit

Gretchen Can you take a little break?
Jimmy God, no, woman! There's too much to do, now that the starting gun on the Grand Prix has sounded, the instant that I take my foot off the proverbial gas to celebrate, shall materialize five other writers in my side mirror just ready to pass me on the Autobahn that is the publishing industry... to clumsily mix European race car metaphors. As a veteran writer girlfriend now, you know that the work is never-ending.
Gretchen: But you spent the last few months drinking and jerking it to the Lane Bryant shoe catalog.
Jimmy: If I have to explain this one more time: it's all writing.

Gretchen: So you'll tell him, yeah? Thanks.
Edgar: No, no, no way! I... I told enough people that someone that they love died.
Lindsay: I have an idea. When my parents got divorced, they told us at Benihana's so we wouldn't cause a scene. The chef put a shrimp in his hat.
Gretchen: How'd that work?
Lindsay: He just put a shrimp in his hat.
Gretchen: No, I mean, telling you in public.
Lindsay: Oh. It totally made us not freak out as much. Except later, I drank my mom's mai tai and climbed on the table 'cause I forgot it was a grill. That's why I don't have footprints.

Vernon: Want to get stupid?
Edgar: How can you party like this when you know someone died?
Vernon: I work at a hospital, dude. Just 'cause a busload of dead kids rolled up, doesn't make it not Margarita Monday.

Jimmy: Sirens singing, "Come play with us." But really they just want me to pilot my literary schooner into the rocks of do-nothingness.
Gretchen: I invited them!
Jimmy: Exactly! If you all didn't want me to fail, then you would've listened when I said I have to write! They're desperately afraid that I will shine so brightly, it will illuminate how dim their lives are by comparison.
Paul: Congratulations, Jimmy.
Jimmy: Unaccepted. This is attempted criminal derailment.
Lindsay: I don't know what you're saying, but it sounds jerky.
Jimmy: Yeah, and I'll be sure to return the favor and sabotage your eventual attempt to do something useful with your life like finish your GED or dance in your adult tap recital.
Lindsay: It's Afro-funk fusion.

Men Get Strong [3.4]Edit

Gretchen: Wait! Make sure to pull out. I can't get pregnant. Your dad might be floating around right now, looking for a body to reincarnate.

Gretchen: [seeing Jimmy burying his face in his hand] Let all the sadness out. [Jimmy turns around with a big smile on his face] Whoa! I thought you were crying!
Jimmy: No. It's amazing. I was smelling the jacket that Dad left and it smelled exactly like him. Just cigarettes, ale, beans, occupational failure. And in a rush, that feeling that we'd been searching for all day just came flying out. And, Gretchen, it wasn't sadness. It was happiness. I'm free. I am finally free! And I'm finally unstuck creatively. I found, all right, the perfect metaphor for the heft of Kitty's adolescent bottom. I'll tell you later. It's...it's too sexy.
Gretchen: Do you want to go binge-watch that six-part series on the Susan Smith case?
Jimmy: Yeah. Just a sec. Now that my parental nightmare is finally over, I'm gonna get rid of everything that smacks of Ronny Overly. May he rest in relative peace for someone of his arterial calcification.

Twenty-Two [3.5]Edit

Tow Truck Driver: Dreams?
Edgar: Some real bad ones.
Tow Truck Driver: Hypervigilance?
Edgar: I saw a sniper on the overpass.
Tow Truck Driver: IEDs in the trash?
Edgar: Yes! Roadside trash is the worst. Why can't they just throw it away?
Tow Truck Driver: Suicidal thoughts? You know the stats? 22 every day. Though, in truth, there are some Vietnam dudes that are jacking up our numbers, but still.
Edgar: I thought starting today, things would get better. But they don't give a shit.
Tow Truck Driver: Here's what you got to understand. They're not evil. None of 'em are. The military's job is to sand down our humanity just enough to where we can take a life. That's it. Afterwards, some totally separate branch gets to deal with all these purposely broken motherfuckers. Not only is that impossible with the resources, that's just impossible, period.
Edgar: Yeah, well, then, what are we supposed to do?
Tow Truck Driver: Not wait for someone to help you. Figure out what works. My man Carter, he hunts all the time. This big chopper pilot I know, he goes to yoga. And we make fun of him, but it seems to work. Jorge hikes the PCT once a year. I got this companion dog. I wanted a big, mean dude, but the organization gave me this little scrub. He saved my life, this guy. This other bro I know locks himself in his bedroom and stabs his closet door. I mean, he's not getting his deposit back, but once the rage passes, he's fine. I know you don't want to hear this, but the minute you stop looking for someone else to cure you, maybe you start living again.

The Last Sunday Funday [3.6]Edit

Gretchen: Legend has it, there is a bar, a secret bar, so exclusive...
Lindsay: No. We're not doing your stupid scavenger hunt for some dumb bar. You pitch it every Sunday.
Gretchen: It is not just a bar. It is a secret bar with a hidden entrance. A magical land full of beautiful people, and strong beverages, and retro decor, called a speakeasy. :Jimmy: Bye-bye.
Gretchen: Goddammit guys, I need this. I had depression. That is a legit-ass, mental-ass illness. I can't be a pilot. It's a fact. Also, Jimmy's dad died.
Jimmy: Yeah. About which, I didn't care.
Gretchen: And I think we both deserve to have a little fun after all that. Also, there's a bar in L.A. I can't get into. That is unacceptable.
Jimmy: Well, accept it, 'cause I'm not going on a scavenger hunt to find a speakeasy. Easily the worst development in bar culture since Internet jukeboxes and big ice cubes.

Lindsay: Ew, books are gross.
Gretchen: Here Lindser, I got you a book.
Lindsay: Har-har. Here's a book for you. It's called How Not to Be a Bitch for No Reason on Sunday Funday.
Gretchen: Oh, look. Here's one. It's called I'm Living a Double Life, and I Can't Be Myself Around My Husband: The Lindsay Jillian Story, volume two.
Lindsay: Where's volume one?
Gretchen: There is no volume one. You're just that stupid.

Jimmy: In battle, we risk all for a taste of the immortal. In retreat, sure, we lose nothing, but what we gain is far worse than nothing: Ignominy. And shame. We don't give up because they make us. We give up because we're lazy! Or would rather drink and watch Treehouse Masters. Plus, no one tells my girl she can't go to their bar!
Gretchen: I can go anywhere! Except Nina's... she's mad for some reason. And Ye Rustic.
Edgar: The Ace Hotel. Saddleranch. Sagebrush Cantina.
Lindsay: The Alcove. 4100. The Tap Room at the Langham.
Gretchen: Oh, my God. How was I supposed to know Wolf Blitzer was married?

Jimmy: Hello, hipster dorks of the speakeasy. My name is Jimmy Shive-Overly. And I'm gonna sing you a song!
Happy toes
Time to say good-bye to woes
Every Jack and Jill knows
She's the gal for me
Happy toes
Happiness I will impose
From New York to Idahos
'Cause I'm in L.O.V.E. I'm in love
Gretchen: This is the last Sunday Funday, isn't it?
Edgar: Oh, yeah.

The Only Thing That Helps [3.7]Edit

Freddy: Your sisters want me to follow up with you. Apparently, you blocked their numbers, and they want me to tell you: A, you're to have the funeral; B, to make sure to scatter his ashes; and C, don't fall into any shit.
Jimmy: Ah! Well, tell them: A, we're already having a service tomorrow; B, I will scatter his ashes, into the toilet; and, C, you're grossly obese, brush your teeth, and you're a whore, in descending chronological birth order.

Freddy: [reading eulogy] "Ronny Overly was not only my coworker. He was my hero. He cherished his family, especially his son, Jimmy. I remember when I came out to visit Jimmy. Oh, bloody hell. This was supposed to be in the third person. Oh, well. Ha, ha. It's me, Ronny. I wrote this in pen, so I might as well keep going. I just realized Freddie has to read whatever I say. My name is Freddie, and I'm a..." I'm not reading that. Skipping forward. "Anyway, I did my best to love him, but he rejected me. I sent him presents, I visited, I Facebook-requested him. Anyway, I forgive him. Please scatter my ashes at the home of actor Tony Shalhoub, whose movie Big Night you and I attended together. What's that, Fi? Your sister just told me he's a Paki. Shit. Anyway, after the movie, you turned to me and said: 'That's what I want to do, Daddy. I want to tell stories.' And I said: 'You can do anything you want, son.' And so, you became a writer. I did that. Anyway, I hope you ditch that depressed girl. And I hope Fi is wrong about Tony Shalhoub. Looking at his last name now, it does look suspicious. Shal-houb. Cheers."
Jimmy: Excuse me! Excuse me. We are not done. First of all, he is a liar! I begged him to take me to Big Night so that we could bond, but instead, he went to D3: The Mighty Ducks, and I watched Big Night alone. Then his movie was shorter, he forgot that I was with him, so he left without me. For him to claim that he was rejected after 18 years of constant rejection on his part is crazy!

Ben Folds: Hey, folks, if, uh, you're gonna Instagram this, be sure to, uh, hashtag "BenFoldsSightings," "BenFoldslsEverywhere" and "BenFoldsMovesToLA." If you do, I'll personally tell you what "Brick" is really about.
Vernon: Abortion.
Ben: No.

Jimmy: [to coffee can containing his father's ashes outside Tony Shalhoub's house] You know, when we had that moment in the pub, I thought to myself, "After 33 years, I'm finally having a real moment with my father." Can't believe what a fool I was. There wasn't a shred of truth in that moment. You were lying the whole time. You were dying, you didn't say a word. All you had to do was say, "Hey, Jimmy, this might be the last time I get to see you. Is there anything you'd like to say?" And that way, despite decades of neglecting, withholding, general assholery, I could have had a modicum of closure. Goddamn you! I can hear you laughing at the word "modicum" as I speak. Well, guess what. I'm getting my closure right now. You do not get to affect me anymore! So long, Dad.
[He dropkicks the can, which scatters the ashes all over himself]

Genetically Inferior Beta Males [3.8]Edit

Edgar: You got me in with the pot people. They're the worst people. Worse than people who study abroad or atheists or...
Gretchen: Ooh, what about children of celebrities who pretend that it didn't help their careers.
Edgar: These pot activists leech off of people with legitimate problems in order to further their agenda, which is just getting high! Why did you make me do this?!
Gretchen: I was looking out for your best interests.
Edgar: Yeah, well, I'm done with Dr. Weed.
Gretchen: Hey! If I quit every time my mother pushed me to do something hard, I wouldn't have... I-I... Okay, well, I guess I did quit eventually to start doing drugs and having unprotected sex with college boys. But the point...
Edgar: No! No more advice! I hate you.
Gretchen: [as Edgar leaves] I was only trying to fill your...
Jimmy: [entering] Look what I made! I went to Kinko's. Talked to some undergrads making a 'zine. It's a lovely place. Anyway, turns out I've been living my entire life in opposition to my father. And now that he's dead, I have no idea who I really am. Am I even a writer? Who knows? Maybe I'm meant to be a master carpenter/tree-house architect/singer-songwriter. Anyways, although my zoo animals are likely dead or escaped, I'd like to thank you for taking that router and forcing me to explore the world. Okay. I'm gonna go into the backyard and test some branches for load-bearing capacity.

Gretchen: Anyway, I-I don't want you to cream your jeans or anything 'cause I know they're your only pair, but maybe my mom wasn't so great.
Justina: Seriously? What, did you hack my e-mail?
Gretchen: I mean, the pressure made me rad, but have you ever slept with no sheets? So scratchy. [Looks at Justina's patient] Five out of ten. Would bang.
Justina: Yup, that's her.
Gretchen: Actually, that was the first time I fell into a depression. It was after a tennis match and I had won, but not by enough, 'cause it was never enough. And my mom was doing this... this food-withholding thing. I think she saw something about it on a TV show as a way to control your dog or something.

The Seventh Layer [3.9]Edit

Vernon: I'm thirsty. I ate too many Blammos and I spat on these ants too much. You got any water? I drank all my sodas.
Paul: No.
Vernon: I hear a creek.
Paul: You can't drink creek water. It's not safe.
Vernon: Nah, I can't get sick. To build my immune system, I lick weird stuff at the hospital all the time. In surg, they say scrub up, I just fake go through the motions. Come on.
Paul: That's to protect the patients.
Vernon: Agree to disagree.

Paul: Never thought squirrel could be so delicious.
Vernon: Nuts are high in protein and fat. Makes for tender flesh. People forget I'm a doctor and I know shit. Hey. Check out his little squirrel dick. You dare me to flick it?
Paul: Ugh.
Vernon: I didn't know we'd get lost. I was just trying to buy more time. You don't understand. It's a nightmare over there. Becca makes me wear full pajamas so our skins don't touch.
Paul: Lindsay may have stabbed me intentionally.
Vernon: I only get 20% of the TiVo. And Becca's always erasing my shows "accidentally." I missed all last season of The Librarians.
Paul: Lindsay orders takeout for one. One time I took a French fry, and she made me give her a dollar even though it was on my credit card.
Vernon: Becca once held my head in the toilet for a minute when I forgot to flush a duke.
Paul: Lindsey's cucking me.
Vernon: Yeah, no kidding.
Paul: No, seriously. That guy I mentioned earlier, Raul, he's her bull.
Vernon: What? Whoa. What? So he porks her and you have to watch? What? Damn, that's crazy! Jesus, why doesn't anything cool ever happen to me?

Paul: By the way, traditionally the seventh layer can be anything. It can be ground beef, shredded lettuce, green onion, jalapeños. It's up to whoever makes it. Whatever makes them happy.
Vernon: You knew this all along and you didn't tell me? You dick.

Talking to Me, Talking to Me [3.10]Edit

Lindsay: [outside a women's health center] So then I heated up the condom in the microwave and I got a turkey baster.
Protester: Wait, I need you to back up.
Lindsay: Okay, so I wanted a popsicle...
Gretchen: Lindsay, do not let those pro-life assholes talk you out of your legal right!
Lindsay: It's okay. I was already having second thoughts before this nice lady came over.
Gretchen: What, why?
Lindsay: If Paul and I get divorced, I'm not gonna have a family anymore. Family. Name one family that's just one person.
Gretchen: Suddenly Susan. Listen, I know that becoming a real human being is a scary thing, but I'll help you. I got your back always.
Lindsay: Thanks, Gretch. All right. I'm ready.
Gretchen: Bam, nice try, terrorists. Another victory for women's rights.
Protester: Actually, I was gonna tell her to do it. In my book, there are extenuating circumstances--rape, incest, and whatever this is.

Jimmy: I did what you said. I looked at my life from an outside perspective.
Gretchen: Yeah. Doesn't it feel great?
Jimmy: No, it was terrifying. I didn't recognize any of it.
Gretchen: What?
Jimmy: I don't recognize my life. I don't know whether I made any of the right decisions. Everything could be wrong.
Gretchen: Everything?
[Gretchen points at herself]
Jimmy: Everything.

The Inherent, Unsullied Qualitative Value of Anything [3.11]Edit

Jimmy: I am allowed to reassess my life. You have no say in it.
Gretchen: So I'm just supposed to wait around until you think I'm worthy of being your girlfriend? That's bullshit, dude. Just tell me one of the things on your list.
Jimmy: Okay, fine. But only if you tell me one of yours.
Gretchen: Fine.
Jimmy: [pulls out list] Okay. "I can't see having kids with her." Your turn.
Gretchen: I'm afraid you'll never be successful.

You Knew It Was a Snake [3.12]Edit

Jimmy: Last night, you said that I would never be successful. Well, I stayed up all night and wrote 35 amazing pages just to spite you. So, ha! Consider yourself thoroughly spited. Ha!
Gretchen: Cool. Okay, I take back the thing I said. You will be successful.
Jimmy: Thank you!
Gretchen: Now it's your turn.
Jimmy: I'm proud of me, too.
Gretchen: No, Jimmy! It's your turn to take back the mega-harsh thing you said to me. And then, voila, everything goes back to Normal Town, et cetera, et cetera... a little makeup boneage. Maybe some titty massages for Jimmy.
Jimmy: Wait, what exactly am I meant to take back?
Gretchen: [imitating]: "I can't see myself having kids with her."
Jimmy: Oh, that. No, I'm 100% sticking by that. Hey, can we do this titty massage on the patio? I just want to keep an eye on the hummingbird feeder.
Gretchen: Jimmy!
Jimmy: You have dropped eight iPhones in the last year, one into a vat of ranch at Souplantation. Child-rearing requires skill. It's not the same as binge-watching a season of Exemplify.
Gretchen: Oh, my God, that is so sexist and mansplainy! You a Gamergater? Am I living with a Gamergater?

Jimmy: Sometimes I look at you and I think, "How did this person get in my house?" It's like I've lost the thread of a novel, and all of a sudden, there's this messy short woman who's clearly important to the story. So, I'm flipping back, thinking, "I don't remember that character being introduced."
Gretchen: Tell me about it! Some days it's like I un-blacked out from a week-long bender, and now I'm in this weird-ass house with sharp corners.
Jimmy: My mate was supposed to be so different. Classy, unbruised, a first-chair violinist for the Philharmonic. God, can you imagine it? Me in the wings of Disney Hall. And we wave good-bye to the other musicians, and I joke about what a drag it must be for Igor to haul that double bass home. And then Dudamel does a champagne spit-take and shakes his head at me like, "Oh, Jimmy, you are too much."
Gretchen: How am I not arm candy for some international movie star with a giant dong? He's part owner of a cool tech company and invents apps when he's not dick-punching Peter Sarsgaard in his latest movie. Sometimes we talk about adopting a kid from a third-world country, but we never do it. And we live in a legit-ass castle in Malibu with one of those big modern art pieces by the guy who does the big dots.
Jimmy: What? Lichtenstein?
Gretchen: Yeah. A big old Lichtenstein.
Jimmy: Wow. How very sophomore year art history of you. You definitely shouldn't decorate your own house.

Paul: [trying and failing to tear apart a pillow] You ruined my life! Why?! Why did you do it?!
Lindsay: Paul. Look at me. Paul. You knew it was a snake when you picked it up.
Paul: What?
Lindsay: You knew who I was. You don't get to act surprised now.

Jimmy: Dorothy's crying. It's very mucous-y.
Gretchen: Lindsay's just reciting the spoken word parts of Lemonade.
Jimmy: Such idiots.
Gretchen: We're no better than them.
Jimmy: Oh, speak for yourself. I'm not the one who flung my sandwich like a upset chimp at the zoo.
Gretchen: I threw it because I realized I was living with an uptight dildo whose personality unmakes itself anytime something bad happens.
Jimmy: Says the woman who spent weeks catatonic on the couch in crusty yoga pants.
Gretchen: I have a clinical goddamn illness!
Jimmy: Oh, right. So you just win because your condition is listed in the DSM?
Gretchen: No! I win because I am doing something about it. You're just lashing out and putting me under a microscope!
Jimmy: It just happened! He just died. Right, I am still grieving, Gretchen. Jesus Christ!
Gretchen: But I was there first!
Jimmy: Where?!
Gretchen: Here! In shit, miserable! There just isn't room for you to be broken right now, too.
Jimmy: Oh, that... that is complete... How is that okay?
Gretchen: It's not. It is completely unfair.
Jimmy: No. This is not supposed to... One person is supposed to be in the hospital bed. And then the other uncomfortably sleeping on that little couch, just sneaking home to shower and... and walk the dog.
Gretchen: Right? Right, Jimmy. And yet...

No Longer Just Us [3.13]Edit

[Both looking at a picture of Vernon and Becca's newborn baby]
Gretchen: It looks like the fox in the Nine Inch Nails video that's being eaten by ants.
Jimmy: It looks like it should be screaming at an old lady in an Aphex Twin video.
Gretchen: Why is its face so swollen? Did Becca give birth directly over a beehive?
Jimmy: Even at an illegal baby mill, they'd be like, "Yeah, that's okay. We're good."

Jimmy: The world is absolutely lousy with people, and I hate them all. I hate everyone but you.
Gretchen: Yeah. I hate everyone else, too. Now, let's look for clues.
Jimmy: You did something really horrible for us. You went to therapy, and for me you did this. And thus, you deserve as grand a gesture in return. And since I am 100% psychologically sound and do not need therapy of any kind...[kneels and pulls out a ring] Gretchen, extraordinary, confounding Gretchen, she who emits more energy than a dying galaxy, despite not washing her legs, together we transcend the mundanity down there. Separate, it shall eventually consume us and turn us as mundane as them, and to allow that to happen simply because we were scared would be a criminal act.
Gretchen: Wait, but the murder?
Jimmy: I made it up.
Gretchen: The article? The Twitter account?
Jimmy: Me.
Gretchen: The DUI checkpoint?
Jimmy: Oh, no. That was real. No, we were way lucky on that one.
[Gretchen kisses Jimmy]
Gretchen: Jimmy, yeah... Wait. You haven't actually asked yet. I am not doing that again.
Jimmy: Will you marry me?
Gretchen: Yes! [Jimmy puts the ring on her finger] You made a murder for me! Hey, uh, you ever boned down during the Hollywood Bowl fireworks?
Jimmy: I mean, of course.
Gretchen: Yeah, me, too, but not as an engaged person.
Jimmy: I'll get us a hoodie from the car to lie on.
Gretchen: Hurry back. This fits, you know? You lost your dad, but you gained me. We're a family. [Jimmy's smile fades] That's pretty cool, right? We're no longer just whatever we were. We're no longer just us. We're a family now.
[Jimmy takes a hoodie out of the car, then gets inside and drives away]

Season 4Edit

It's Been (Part 1) [4.1]Edit

It's Been (Part 2) [4.2]Edit

Odysseus [4.3]Edit

Edgar: Maybe she’s not texting you because she knows the only reason you’re checking in is to make yourself feel better. Yeah, maybe Gretchen wants to get on with her life and never think about you again. Maybe she thought you were dead, Jimmy. Checking tips on the hotline, coming home night after night to an empty house with only your scent on your pillow to cling to for comfort, until it too faded away and she was left all alone with nobody to make breakfast ramen for, alone with nothing but her scentless pillows and haunted thoughts of all the friends she lost in the war.

Jimmy: You know, I almost texted Gretchen again earlier.
Edgar: Jimmy!
Jimmy: No, I didn't do it. I wrote about a hundred drafts, but couldn't get it right. Probably for the best, you know. Out of sight, out of...
[Gretchen bursts into the house, running and stopping abruptly upon seeing Jimmy, who stands up. She slowly steps up to where she is standing over him.]
Gretchen: HEY! DOT DOT DOT!

This Is Just Marketing [4.4]Edit

Gretchen: So, I forgot to tell you, I had sex with that dummy Ty.
Lindsay: [excitedly throwing clothes, which land on a model] WHAT?!
Gretchen: And then, later that same day, I boned his best friend.
Lindsay: [throwing more clothes] WHAT?!
Model: Should I try a walk, or...
Lindsay: Shut up!
Gretchen: Plus, he's married, so it can't be a thing. That's right--two guys in a row, just like senior prom.

Fog of War, Bro [4.5]Edit

Jimmy: Right, she's acting really weird.
Edgar: Like David Bowie in Labyrinth weird, or live Kevin in We Need to Talk About Kevin weird?
Jimmy: She's watching pornography fully clothed.
Edgar: Kevin weird.

There's Always a Back Door [4.6]Edit

Not a Great Bet [4.7]Edit

A Bunch of Hornballs [4.8]Edit

CastEdit

External LinksEdit

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