New Girl

I need it. I have a big day at work today. I need it more.

I have to bake muffins before work. What? Why?

'Cause it's for my "Lunch With Your Princi-Pal" campaign.

See, being principal's great, but unlike being vice principal,

now the buck stops with me.

I'm "the Man" now, and all the kids

can just smell "the Man" all over me.

That sounded really weird.

All I'm saying is

suddenly I have no relationship with the kids.

I'm really counting on these muffins to humanize me.

I deserve that coffee.

I'm finally director of marketing at Ass Strat.

Today I get to hire an assistant.

I'm gonna be tough, but I won't be a screamer.

It's not constructive, it's rude.

Ooh, coffee. Your pour that coffee down, you throw it

or I'll pour your blood on the ground!

You'll pour my blood on the ground?

I'll knife you! Look, I got a full day

of writing ahead of me,

and that requires a fourth cup of joe.

What else is my whiskey gonna swim in?

You're taking this too far. You treat that heart of yours

like a baseball-man's mitt.

Uh, hello, I am the one packing for our move today,

so I will be having, uh, the coffee.

I get the coffee! Enough is enough with this!

What are you doing here, Winston?!

I get the coffee! Enough!

You guys are tearing each other apart.

For what? Coffee?

Come on, man,

you already got that energy

inside of you.

And that is the light of the Lord.

Man, this?

This ain't nothing but the devil's water.

Nah, I'm just playing. Hey, Winston!

Winston, that wasn't fair!

I'll knife you by the urinal, Winston!

Enough with the knifing.

Today's the day it all turns around.

Hey. Sorr... I'm sorry I hit you, Jess.

I didn't mean to. I'm using magnetic words

to break through my writer's block, and it's not working.

I've already folded all my shirts and masturbated

six times, and I'm running out of things to do.

I'm just in a real bind. You see, The Pepperwood Chronicles

sold over 30 copies, Jess.

So, what, we're complaining about good things now?

It's just, my audience is gonna be clamoring for a sequel,

and I can't leave those stevedores,

those-those tugboat workers,

those lighthouse keepers empty-handed.

You think that your audience is entirely made of, like...

Blue-collar nautical workers on the coastline of Maine.

I don't think that, Jess, I know that.

Okay, Nick, you're incredibly talented.

You can do this. And you have the key,

and the key is simply...

Oh. I have to go.

Simply what?

Jess, simply what?!

All right. What do we have here?

"Sentient feces."

Why is there a magnet that says "feces"?

All right. Trust the process.

Ugh. Thanks for helping me pack.

No problem. This might be our last chance for a mess-around.

Don't you start with that last mess-around stuff. Don't you start.

Don't start, 'cause then I'll start. Look, I'm already starting.

Don't start. I didn't start this whole thing.

I can't do it, okay? Okay.

Okay, we agreed,

let's just pack, okay? Great.

Furguson? Where have you been? What? Hi!

Huh? When you leave the house,

you take your cell phone with you.

Oh! Oh, thank you so much for grabbing my cat.

Come on, Sweatshirt, there's still some sashimi left

between my toes.

Uh, this here is, uh, Winston's cat, Furguson.

Sweatshirt walked through my door a year ago,

and while he may come and go as he pleases,

he loves Mommy and her little milkies.

Yes, he does.

I'm his home. Oh, really?

So why do I have a photo of Furguson

on my phone?

Oh, yeah?

Then why do I have a picture of Sweatshirt

on my sweatshirt? Oh, damn.

Furguson, you got...

you got two families, you dirty dog.

Look, I'm sorry about that. I'm Winston. This is Cece.

Name's Gil... Like the man's name, but for me.

Cornell.

Magna cum laude.

Two years of executive assistant experience.

Very nice. Is this 24-pound linen stock?

Uh, yeah, it is. Impressive. Ken, do me a favor.

Will you, uh, untie your tie?

Uh, I can't, actually. It's, um... it's a clip-on.

I know.

Thanks so much, son. See yourself out.

Next.

Hello, sir.

Hello. My name is Jeremy.

Thank you.

Let me give you a scenario.

We land the Bronco Blue Jeans account

and install Brett Favre as its face.

You receive a call from a nosy maître d'.

It appears that Brett has been spotted

at the Ritz-Carlton eating a salad,

dressed in a tuxedo.

The paparazzi are on their way.

You rush in to alert me. You find me dead.

What do you do?

I find a honky-tonk bar near the Ritz Carlton.

I leave a pair of perfectly broken-in Bronco Blue Jeans

in Mr. Favre's size, as well as a grass-stained T-shirt

on the floor of the bathroom.

I get on the phone, rent a tractor, drive it directly into

the swimming pool of the Ritz-Carlton.

When the staff is distracted, I physically subdue.

Mr. Favre under the weight of my full body,

look him in the eyes and tell him to repeat after me:

"I got drunk playing football and remember nothing since.

"I would never knowingly wear a tuxedo, drive a tractor

"into a swimming pool or eat a salad.

"And I would never knowingly

leave my Bronco Blue Jeans behind."

And the maître d'?

I rented the tractor in his name.

The next call he'll be making will be from the police station.

Welcome to Ass Strat.

Muffin? Muffin. They're homemade.

Blueberry. Look out,

principal's coming! (Chuckles)

Bah. Just kidding. Muffin?

Are you calling me Muffin or offering me one?

Either way, no.

Okay. Well, cool, cool, cool, cool.

I think Bayou Sue sent the letter...

Sorry, what did you say?

Sorry. Are we in trouble?

No, I just... Did you say Bayou Sue?

She's just a character in this book that we're obsessed with.

Yeah, Pepperwood Chronicles. Anyway, you probably

wouldn't know anything about it.

I put a couple copies in the library, and the librarian

didn't think it'd go anywhere.

I can't wait to rub it in Esther's smug face.

That's very flattering. Please come and talk to these girls.

They're obsessed with Pepperwood.

I don't have time for this. I'm only on page two.

And page one is just a dedication to Winston.

Ugh. Come on.

The kids used to love Vice Principal Jess,

and now they won't have anything to do with Principal Jess.

It's like I'm living in my own damn adorable shadow.

Please? You-you might get some ideas from your audience.

My audience is the men who built this great country.

Your students would never understand

that Pepperwood's just a New Orleans story

about a guy fighting with the alligator within.

Well, could you just do it for me?

Yeah, I'll... I mean, I'll do it for you, Jess, sure.

Well, then why didn't you...

You know what, I'm happy with where we ended up,

but you took me on a real spin around the block there.

So, as you can see here, I treat Furguson right. Mm-hmm.

Okay? Organic kitty litter.

Mm-hmm. I got the miniature piano,

the tiny, tiny treadmill,

and right over here is where we do couples yoga.

Fish nuggets? Oh, well, that would explain

his recent oily eliminations, which I document on the cloud.

You track his poop?

What, you just weigh his hairballs and clock out?

I mean, I... Furguson is happy here, okay?

: Around people that actually cherish him.

Don't you start, Cece. And who helped him become the cat that he is.

Now ain't the time. I'm sorry, but it's true.

Now ain't the time. What's happening?

I'm trying, okay?

I've just got to breathe for a second.

Let me explain something to you, okay?

Furguson is my cat.

I found him first.

Well, you may have found Furguson,

but Sweatshirt found me.

I see you want to play hardball here. How about this? Mm-hmm.

We settle things the way we do on the street.

Mm-hmm.

Catcall. What?

We let Furguson decide. Oh, yeah.

Fine. We'll leave the decision in his paws.