Younger

I can't believe you went down there

and talked to that tattoo guy.

Yeah. Yeah, yeah.

I gave him a piece of my mind.

You gave him a piece of something.

What is that supposed to mean?

I saw you, Mom.

So, okay, how exactly does that work?

You go down to complain but end up making out with him?

I mean, gee, the Pakistani guy at the bodega

gave me the wrong change.

Are you gonna go give him a handy?

- Don't talk to me like that. - Well, I'm sorry.

But I don't know what's going on here.

Okay, you know that your father and I are separated,

and eventually I'm gonna be seeing people.

The tattoo guy?

His name is Josh.

And you're, like, a couple?

Um, sort of.

Okay.

That's the grossest thing I've ever heard.

- Oh, come on. Can we just... - No...

Let's just sit down and talk about...

No, Mom, you're having a midlife crisis,

just like Dad, and I don't want to talk about it.

I don't want to think about it. I just want to go to bed.

Ugh.

I just thought about it again.

And then she said I was having a midlife crisis.

Your crisis was your boring life before this.

Ugh, I hate this.

Caitlin and I have always been so close,

and now I can't talk to her about anything...

Josh, work.

Maybe I could tell her about work.

No!

You know, we've been through this already.

She's a teenager,

and she's gonna blow your cover and blab to everybody.

Keep your mouth shut and get her through college.

- Are you expecting anybody? - No.

- Hi, who is it? - It's David.

Is that Dad?

Yeah.

What, are you leaving?

Yeah, I'm just gonna stay with him for a few weeks.

He's giving me a job in his office.

Did you tell him about Josh?

No, I just told him

it was getting awkward around here,

which it is.

But you don't have to leave, Caitlin.

I think you need to figure stuff out,

and, you know, I need a job.

Dad needs help in the office.

It's a win-win-win.

- Hey! How are you? - Hi!

Oh, it's so good to see you.

- Hi, Dad. - You're so thin.

- Oh. - Did they feed you in India?

No, I need dead cow, like, as soon as possible.

All right, White Castle on the way home, baby.

Liza, how come every time I see you, you look younger?

You just forgot what she looked like happy.

- Hey, Maggie. - Oh, lovely.

Good to see you. Love the robe.

- When's the big fight? - All right. Okay.

You call me if you need anything.

And remember, you can always come back.

- I second that. Come here. - Thank you.

I'm gonna miss you.

Somehow, I don't think you'll be too lonely.

What does that mean?

Nothing.

Come on, Dad.

She'll be fine.

She'll be back.

Low foam skinny cap...

Shh, shh.

Rob, is there no way that we could meet in person?

Discuss this face-to-face?

I already signed the contract with Hachette.

Look, I really appreciate all you've done for me,

but it's time to move on.

Good luck, guys.

And good luck to you, Rob.

Just know that Empirical's door is always open.

Screw him; send out a press release immediately

that says we dumped Rob Olive.

I don't get it.

Hachette already has so many Sick Lit writers.

- What's Sick Lit? - Terminally ill teen genre.

Like "Fault in Our Stars."

I spent so many hours at the desk with that guy,

literally milking every chapter from him.

She even came up with the title

of his last best seller, "Hashtag I'm Dying."

Well, maybe there's some way to get him back.

Too late, Galley Cat is already reporting it.

Hey.

Hey, hot pants.

Can you believe it?

Finally gonna get a night together.

And they're really good about checking IDs,

so we don't have to worry about your daughter showing up.

Sorry it's been so weird.

Oh, it's okay. It's okay.

We're weird, all right?

I don't know. I kind of like it.

What are you gonna do?

Drink?

- Excellent. - All right, all right.

Who's ready for Trivia Tuesday?

Yeah!

It's trivia night?

Free shot for every correct answer.

Oh, okay. Now it get it.

Yeah.

Petey Piranha and King Boo

ride together in this multiplayer game.

- "Mario Kart: Double Dash!!" - Correct!

I totally remember that game.

Yeah, but you didn't remember it fast enough.

- I know. - Next question.

You have to translate this emoji sentence.

Oh, dude, these are my jam.

Eggplant, peach, two cows,

house, question mark.

Let's have sex till the cows come home!

- Correct. - Yeah!

- What? - Damn!

She's really good at this.

All right, next category is the '90s.

All right. Now we're talking.

Her name was Lisa Lopes.

Her nickname was...

- Left Eye! - Correct!

- Yes! - Next question.

O.J. Simpson had a house guest...

- Kato Kaelin. - Correctamundo!

Okay, here's a hard one, guys.

Who was the mastermind behind the smashing

of Nancy Kerrigan's...

- Jeff Gillooly! - Wow. Amazing.

How is she getting all these?

She's 40!

Hey, easy with the F word, sweetie.

What?

Two more shots for our winners.

No, no. I'm okay. I've had enough.

No, no. Keep 'em coming.

What are you talking about, you've had enough?

Oh, my God.

- You know what I just thought of? - What?

When I was born, you were in middle school.

I guess so.

And when I was 16, you were...

You were 30!

Yep, pretty much always a 14-year age difference.

Oh, my God, though.

You're closer to my mom's age than you are to mine.

Okay, can we stop doing the math now?

- Yes. - Okay.

- No more math. - No more math.

I don't like... ooh.

Are you okay? Is something wrong?

No, no, no. We're good.

Okay.

Okay? Okay.

Nope. Nope.

Oh, I know what's happening.

What?

- I have whiskey dick. - What?

Whiskey dick.

My 40-year-old girlfriend got my dick drunk.

Sorry.

Good morning.

That remains to be seen.

- You look tired. - Ah, yeah.

My boyfriend and I got into some whiskey last night...

Not interested.

I need you to be surgically attached to your phone

for the next 48 hours.

Um, okay.

Laura Hillenbrand's new book is coming up for auction.

The second it is released to the bidders, I will text you.

You will drop everything and sign out a watermarked copy

from her agent's office and hand-deliver it to Charles.

That's exciting.

I loved "Seabiscuit" and "Unbroken."

Liza, if you want to be taken seriously,

you can't just blurt out your unrequested opinion.

This is not a Gallup poll.

I bet "Seabiscuit" would love a Gallup poll.

Honestly, it's like you have some form

of literary Tourette's.

Hey, how's it going?

Not good.

I'm looking for the next Rob Olive.