You're the Worst

My frame of reference for love has always come from

literature. In my brooding youth, Bronte

encapsulated my viewpoint thusly: "The trouble is not that

I am single and likely to stay single, but that I am lonely and

likely to stay lonely." But as I grew up, my darkening

view was more Shakespeare: "Love is merely a madness and I

tell you, deserves as well a dark house and whip as mad men

do." But now...

now... since you...

to my abject horror, my view on love can best be described by

Nicholas Sparks in The Notebook: "It's not easy...

it's hard... and you have to work at it,

but it's worth it... because I want you...

I want all of you... forever."

Or something like that.

_

No.

Tomorrow...

we meet with the flower guy...

then we're tasting cakes,

and then me and, uh...

Ugh...!

You don't know your

fiancé's name?

LINDSAY (Laughs): Of course I

know his... don't be dumb.

Paul!

I'm just wired!

Call it off.

No way!

You should've seen Becca's dumb

face when I told her I was

getting married before her and

mom has never paid me so much

attention.

I should've gotten married when I was 12.

All right, you have to promise me something...

cross your tits, hope to die... that even though you're getting

m-m... married... we are gonna keep this party

going, right? 'Cause this is how this starts.

First, you get married, then you get some bullshit job, then you

have kids and then you die. But what you don't know...

is that you were dead the entire time.

I'm on a lot of drugs right now, can you not

tell me I'm dead? I promise!

I got to go pee.

SAM (Sighs): Ah... How was it?

Oh, dope, Sam. Not you, bitch.

Oh. You, bitch!

What? Oh, me?

No... I'm just Rick's shitty

- assistant. That Harvey

Weinstein-on-antibiotics lookin' nerd couldn't be

bothered to attend the final mix of my first major album?!

He sent muffins.

Hey, can I ask you guys something?

Is... that how you normally dress?

What, like, in our regular lives?

Like when we go to the farmer's market?

Uh... Rick suggested that we cultivate

- a street-look. What do you usually

- look like? Annoying, white, skater

- kids from Venice at a rave. Well, then...

I don't know, maybe dress like that.

Tell Rick he's fired. You're our new publicist.

What, me? N-No... I'm not a... (Laughing)

- I'm not looking for a real job. Tough shit, bitch!

You in it now.

I'm speaking with Jimmy Shive-Overly about his...

pugnacious debut novel, Congratulations, You're Dying.

Tell us about your writing process.

Rage, heartbreak... alcohol.

Heartbreak? I woke up one day and

found myself happy. It was awful.

Mm... Elucidate, please.

The lass eviscerated me, as lasses are wont to do.

That was about a year and a half ago.

Best thing she ever could have done for me.

The book? Yeah...

'Twas a result of that disemboweling.

It was then I learned the truth of my writing.

- I suck when I'm happy. Mmm!

You have to be miserable to produce?

Oh, I wouldn't say, "miserable," but I'd say

constant horror and bone-deep dissatisfaction is helpful.

- Yeah. You're listening to

Folio. I'm your host, Steeb

Corniglia, here with the puissant Jimmy Shive-Overly.

Jimmy, it seems to me endemic in your work, that the parental

characters obfuscate by playing almost prosaic arpeggios on the

- central motif. I'm glad you picked up

- on that. Mmm...

_

How scary is America now... bitch?!

Jimmy! Jimmy?

I don't have any change, I don't have any change!

What? No.

- It's Edgar. I used to buy weed

- from you. That's me.

Get off me! How's it going?

Yeah, great. I just got done doing a, uh,

- radio show about my new novel. That's awesome.

- I'm happy for you. Thanks.

Yeah. You don't look so

good. Here, I got something for you.

Free of charge. I'll even sign it.

- So what's the latest? Actually, I got home

from Iraq and things have been...

sort of hard, in terms of adjusting.

- And homelessness. Well, hey, if things

ever get really dire, I've got this chaise on my deck, you

could always sleep there for a night.

Awesome. Could, sh-should we, sh-should

- we go now or...? Right, so if...

things ever get really dire, the publisher's e-mail's in the back

of the book. All right, bye.

You son of a... bitch!

Sam! Sam, Sam. Hey.

You guys recorded a song for the soundtrack, correct?

I don't know. Is it a song?

Right! Well, what do you make of the

themes of the movie? I mean, it is at it's heart,

- a war movie. Oh.

Is that the theme...?

Thanks. The guys are so

excited to have contributed to such an esteemed director's film

and... you know where I'm going with this.

- Just finish the quote for me. - (Ty clears throat)

Ty Wyland. The director.

That you were just talking about.

Where'd you get the drink?

I'll show you if you

agree to get dinner with me sometime.

Yeah... dating's not really my thing.

Good. Me neither. So I'll call you in a couple

weeks? Heading to India for a

- little bit. Okay.

- I warned you. I'll call you.

Listen, Nestor, I am flattered, but I've been kind

of seeing someone for about a year now.

I'm actually on my way to his house right now.

So I won't be coming over to your hotel.

But, trust me, the guys are over the moon about the photo

shoot. You are their favorite

photographer by miles. Mm-hmm.

Ciao. (Turns up volume)

_

- (Phone chimes) Seriously?

Dude, I'm on my way to your house.

_

_

Aw, shit. Shit!

- Shit. - (Dog barking in distance)

Shit.

It's been a year! Where the hell are my royalties?

Because I need them to live off of.

Yes, I know Junot Díaz writes for Esquire, but I am a

novelist. Yeah, I'm-I'm working on the

follow-up, but it's-it's slow going and...

- I'll talk to you later. I'm nervous, Jimmy.

I-I haven't been to a big social event since I've been back.

Are you sure they know I'm coming?

Yes. Get in. Are you sure... it's

- even a good idea that you go? What's the worst I

- could do? Okay. Fine.

No, seriously, what is the worst I could do?

I've been up all night working on my list of ways to ruin their

wedding. I keep getting stuck around

"Seduce the groom's mother."

Hi, new neighbors! Hi!

Hello!

Were the other jail girls mean?

Did any of them try to make out with you?

No. But one girl kept some pretty

strong eye contact with me while she was on the toilet.

Well, we should vámonos, señoritas.

What'd you get them, anyway?

A food processor. (Scoffs) I don't

get it. Why does everyone feel the need

to have these things, these, like, symbols of adulthood?

Like, a food processor? Why do you need this stuff?

That's an interesting question.

I think, maybe, it means you're investing in your future.

You may not use it every day or even very often at all, but

knowing that at any moment you could make pesto without having

to borrow a friend's or improvise some lesser method,

that knowledge, that possibility, makes you an adult.

Plus, this one, it's, like, one level worse than

ours, so Becca can never beat me.

Bitch.

sorry, Jimmy. You didn't include a name for

your plus-one so we didn't hold the space.

Jim-Jim... Um, I-I could help serve food

- or... I put in two years

penetrating the bride at least thrice weekly.

- I deserve to have a friend here. I'll see