You're the Worst

It's absolutely remarkable.

I've never seen anything like this.

It should be impossible,

but we've tried every option.

Paul ruins every single table.

See, there aren't enough borings for a boring table.

I mean, we could put him at the Alzheimer's table,

and they'll forget how boring he is.

Ugh. I don't want him at my wedding.

Why can't he just go to another wedding?

Gretchen, put down the Paul.

This is insane. We deserve a break

from the mind-numbing drudgery of wedding planning.

Something fun.

Mailbox baseball in Beverly Hills?

'Shrooms at the Museum of Tolerance?

Egging golfers as Griffith Park?

No. Even better.

- Fuck Week. - Fuck Week.

Fuck Week. For a week,

we can sleep with whomever we like...

In.

You know, to get it out of our systems.

Got it. I'm in.

Oh. Well... wonderful.

Ground rules. Safety is mandatory. Otherwise, no limits.

Anywhere but here and the Cheesecake Factory bathroom.

That's ours. 2:01 next Sunday, it ends.

Have you done this before?

Good?

Fuck Week?

Fuck Week.

Oh! Gretch! I have a sitch with Sam and the guys.

Just leak Sam's tuck shots.

That should buy you a couple weeks.

They want me to publicize their new track,

but it's really bad.

Like, Vietnam bad. Wait. Was Vietnam bad?

Listen, I just really don't have time to hold your hand

through this one. Jimmy proposed

that we have sex with other people for the week!

- Oh! - Oh, my God, Gretch.

Let's go day-dicking like we used to.

We'll go to Barney's Beanery,

the Museum of Tolerance, Trader Joe's on La Brea...

That's the one with all the hip fuck-dads.

And Runyon Canyon for fit dick.

Mrs. Cutler? Nock Nock is here.

Send him in.

And, by the way, Mrs. Cutler is my bitch mom.

I have a quick signing meeting.

Let me make this kid's day.

Then you and I can head down to dick island!

2:00 p.m., Runyon Canyon, by the dog water fountain.

And remember, Gretch, guys with golden retrievers eat pussy.

Nock Nock, hi.

I'm Gretchen. So nice to meet you.

Have a seat.

I'll just jump right in.

Here at Caliber, we do PR and brand management

for some of the biggest artists worldwide.

And we want to work with you.

- Congratulations. - Okay.

Everyone will know your name.

How did you get your name, by the way?

Been hearing it my whole life.

- Knock-knock jokes? - Nah.

We didn't have a doorbell.

Or a door.

Okay. Uh, should we make this "offish"?

Cool. I'll take a look at that when I hear your full pitch.

Strategy,

targets, concept art.

Of course.

Sure. My full pitch.

Great. We'll set something up.

Fu...

an incongruous costume for you... "Person Who Cares About Work."

This signing should be a layup, but no.

The hillbilly marathoned Shark Tank,

and now he knows what a pitch is.

And now that Yvette made me care about my job,

- I have to land him, and I hate it.

Oh. Booty text?

Sam. He's pissed he hasn't heard

their song on the radio yet.

Huh.

Oh. Sorry.

- This is awkward. - No!

It's Fuck Week.

As soon as I get this goddamn pitch done, I'm gonna be

balls deep in balls.

Thanks, Edgar.

Then,

the day your new video drops,

only your face... not your name... Is on billboards.

People will look up and ask...

"Who's there?"

Nock Nock.

Good job. I can see you worked real hard.

Great. Then let's sign that contract.

Listen, Gretchen, there's something

you got to know about me.

I made everything out of dirt. Whole scratch.

I'm out here alone since I was 15.

Mushing. Rectify.

"Knock Knock." "Come in." You know?

Plus, I got Charles.

I got to take Charles to volleyball.

I believe in you, Gretchen.

Full heart.

What the hell, Gretch?!

I actually had to hike yesterday

because I thought I went to the wrong side.

- You didn't get laid? - Of course I got laid.

- Did he have a golden retriever? - No.

A Rottweiler.

Jesus, are you okay?

- Sam's on the phone for you. - She's not here!

I killed Sam's garbage track.

Wait a sec.

You killed it as in you called every radio station

and media outlet and convinced them not to play the track

even though they'd already received it?

And I still found time to get all in it.

Ugh. You know what? You're right.

You and Jimmy are both pulling tail.

- Screw this. - There's my girl.

Tomorrow night, Soho House.

Gretchen goes to slam town.

Come here, say hi. I'm dying.

Oh, uh... Oh, I should really take a shower.

Jesus, did you bone a catfish?

Oh. Fuck Week.

- Fuck Week! - So you're ready

- to finally go out, huh? - As soon

as I finish this target monetization strat

for Nock Nock.

If I can increase his engagement levels,

land him a few key endorsements...

Ooh! Maybe I can get him a Waze channel?

I'm not in it

for the money, never have been.

You kidding?

- Ooh! - Guys!

Guys, I am in a meeting.

Lindsay tanked our release. Now no one's

gonna hear our fire-ass track of fire!

I keep telling them the track isn't ready.

That's not your job, Messy bitch!

- Guys, that is exactly her job! - But who the hell is she to

- tell us shit? - I am your publicist! That's who I am!

She's just some titty girl who used to hang out with you.

- I'm not some titty girl. That's insulting. - And now,

- we're supposed to listen to her? Her? - I have a job, and

- it's whatever Gretchen just said it was. Yes you are! - Her?

May I hear the track?

- Forget we added that cookie line.

That is so bad. What were you guys even going for?

We've been getting a lot of moms at our shows,

and... they're not even coming to the after-party.

We're losing relevance, bitch!

Like Alanis Morissette after Jagged Little Pill.

You got a wild track in there,

but there's all this shit covering it.

You got Corn Flakes and Lucky Charms

and Cocoa Puffs.

But I just want a taste the milk.

- Who the hell is this kid! - Guys...

I told Lindsay to hold off on releasing the song,

because I wanted to link you guys up with Nock Nock.

He's untested but very promising.

I think a collab with him

could help you get your track where you want it.

I don't know this corny, cereal-ass bitch!

- Ah, yeah. - He gets half a million

monthly listens on SoundCloud.

Nice to meet you. Nock Nock, is it?

It'd be an honor to help you guys out.

Big Titty Dreams got me through my parents' divorce.

- Oh. - See? This is a perfect example

of the extra cross-pollination that Caliber can offer.

I'm in.

- So we good? - We're not good, Gretch.

You ditched me at Soho House,

and I ended up pegging an agent from APA.

APA, Gretch.

Oh, shit. You're on a Fuck Week?

That's why you've been ignoring my texts?

Yes. Duh.

Next time just say so.

Thanks, fam.