Hacks

So anyway, of course now the guy's on top of me

going at it, you know.

T-shirt's still on 'cause his breasts

are bigger than mine...

And I told him... what?

I was jealous.

So anyway, the dummy starts asking me questions.

"Are you close? Are you close?"

I'm like, "Yeah. Yeah."

"I'm close. I'm close.

"I'm close to getting a buzzcut, a flannel shirt,

and finally accepting Melissa Etheridge's dinner invite!"

I'm still Deborah Vance.

Goodnight, Las Vegas!

- Great show. - Thank you.

Love these new heels.

Yeah, let's use them this Friday night,

but let's put a little tread on the bottom.

- Copy. - I almost slipped.

I knew these earrings were gonna be too heavy.

Ahh. - Great show.

I was right.

- Towel? - No thanks, sweetie.

So Bill, how'd they do?

Didn't cover the fuckin' spread.

I'm out two grand.

Hoo-hoo. Good luck with Beverly.

You sleep on the couch more than my dogs do.

- Hey, Deb. - Lookin' good, ladies.

- They want us wheels up in 25. - I'll be quick.

And after the taping tomorrow,

I got QVC to give us a studio space

to shoot the Christmas album cover.

Ooh, love it.

Also, Damien has some historic news.

- eBay is my bitch. - No.

The Verdure tapestry is yours.

Oh, yes!

That's what I like to hear.

- Great show, Deb. - Thanks, baby.

- Car's out front. - Okay.

Let's party.

Aww, did you like the show? I'm so sorry.

We're running late to the airport.

Thank you so much.

Oh, love you guys.

Love you guys. Mwah.

Look at the veining.

Wow, this rose marble.

Look at the detail in that crystal work.

It's like a million little winks.

I've never found glass handles like this

on any bath caddy that I have ever used.

Very intentional.

Oh, I am hearing that we have sold out once again.

Oh, my goodness!

We are a team. That's incredible.

Someone's been a bad boy.

Have you been a bad boy? - Ho, ho, ho.

He called me a ho.

Have you been naughty or nice?

Goodnight, Ronnie.

Dinner's ready!

There you are, my darlings.

There you go.

You know how I'm redoing the casino's east tower?

Oh, yeah.

So the contractor double orders everything.

Ooh.

And what the hell am I supposed to do

with two tons of fertilizer?

Dump it on Steve Wynn's doorstep.

Ha! Bingo.

Come on. You set me up.

Deb, 2,500 shows.

Now, I think it's a Vegas record.

It is.

- Well, then cheers. - Cheers.

And they're naming a street after you.

I know. Deborah Vance Drive.

It'll probably be a dead end

with an abortion clinic on it.

Now that the big show's all planned,

maybe it's a good time to talk about the future.

You know you'll always be a part

of the Palmetto's history,

but maybe it'd be good

if you did a few less shows a year.

Good for who?

Yeah.

I need some marquee dates

for new acts,

like Pentatonix.

What the hell is that?

They're a beat box-forward a cappella group.

They do medleys.

They won "The Sing-Off."

Who gives a shit?

Look, I have two buckets to fill:

families and idiots in their 20s.

The families want to see singing and dancing,

and the college kids want to spend a grand

to watch a guy in a helmet hit play on an iPod.

You're forgetting about your third bucket,

people from Florida.

They love me, and my numbers are strong.

You'll still be doing shows,

just not Friday and Saturday.

Oh, just the most important nights.

Un-fucking-believable.

Deb, why do you even want

to do a hundred-plus shows a year?

It's not like you're having fun.

I mean, you're on cruise control up there.

- I fucking wish! - All right.

I wish I was on cruise control.

I've been playing defense my entire career

thanks to assholes like you!

- Deborah, calm down please. - Oh, what do you care?

You own the place, and the service sucks.

Great.

Where's my fucking doggy bag?

Okay, all right.

- I'll take his too. - Okay.

And the fork!

There was a cockroach in my salad!

Shit.

Comp everybody. - Okay.

I guess I should just jump out the window.

Well, you'd probably just break your legs

because there's that 12th floor terrace,

but... if you're seriously thinking of hurting yourself...

I'm not.

Plus, I've told you how I would kill myself

a million times. - Yeah.

I'd wear a suicide vest on...

both: "Watch What Happens Live."

- Very funny. - Y... you can't get me

a meeting to write on anything.

I... I'm just done because of one mistake?

Well, it was one mistake and then a series of replies

where you doubled downed, Ava.

I didn't do anything wrong.

Here, you're dripping on the leather.

I just got those chairs. It was a whole thing.

I had to get approvals.

Look, you know I love your strong female POV. Obsessed.

But maybe in the future,

you don't need to say exactly how you're feeling

about everything at all times.

Oh, my God.

I'm sorry if I was unfiltered

and honest or whatever,

but that's literally what

people like about my writing.

Now... now all of a sudden, it's a problem?

I mean, where's the line?

I don't know, okay?

All I do know is you need to lay low for a while.

Yeah, I can't lay low. I need to work.

You know I send money to my parents,

and I just bought a house.

I thought it was a townhouse.

Yeah, well, it cost as much as a house house.

I hate to say this, but maybe you should consider selling it.

I have. I can't immediately re-list it.

I'm gonna lose a shit ton of money.

My realtor accidentally CCd me on an email

where she said she got me a bad deal.

Oof. Email's tricky.

This is probably

just residual Catholic guilt bullshit,

but I... I can't help feeling

that this is all punishment for getting fingered

at my Uncle Rocco's wake.

Okay, great example of what I'm talking about, Ava.

I never need to know where you've been fingered.

You don't know where a woman gets fingered?

Ava.

Please, I'm really trying here, okay?

I've called everybody,

but I'm sorry.

Nobody seems interested in helping you right now.

Also, don't vape in here.