Selfie

Good morning.

Henry rejected you.

Eliza, it's Eliza. Henry rejected you.

Reminder: Henry rejected you.

Henry had rejected me.

It was true.

And the worst part was,

I still had to see him every day.

So, I decided to employ the techniques of Corynn McWatters,

ambassador of bitchface.

As the most popular girl in 7th grade,

Corynn handled anyone who threatened her status.

So, instead of crying in the bathroom,

I asked myself, "what would Corynn do?"

Step one, pretend not to see the individual in question.

Step two, pretend not to hear the individual in question.

Ooh.

Pardon me.

What was that, Charlie?

That was Henry who...

Come again, Charlie?

Um, I didn't... I didn't say anything.

Oh, well. I must be hearing things, Charlie.

I think she's mad.

You think?!

And if steps one and two don't work,

screw the junior-high-school tactics

and "Gone Girl" his ass.

Oh, he stabbed me! He stabbed me!

Are you out of your mind?

That's what he wants you to think.

Joan, check my diary!

Okay, how long do you two fools

plan on keeping this up?

In the words of the prepubescent new edition,

cool it now, please!

No matter what went down,

I know the two of you still care about each other.

After you, Eliza.

No, thanks! I'll walk!

Oh, my God.

She snubbed me!

Did you see that?

She totally snubbed me, did she not?!

It was a snub

because according to Corynn McWatters,

whoever caves first gets cankles,

and I am not getting cankles because of Henry.

I'm trying to be mature about this, you know?

I'm trying to foster communication.

I'm trying to make the best

of an admittedly awkward situation.

Well, from now on, Eliza Dooley can clean up her own messes.

Are you aware that the building manager

was banging on your door for 45 minutes this morning?

He finally gave up and started knocking on Bryn's door.

It pretty much ruined

her "Breakfast at Tiffany's" themed breakfast.

That she has been planning for nine years.

- Nine. - I did not chignon my hair for this.

You guys, this is not fair.

Mr. Old Man is always picking on me.

Maybe it's because you call him Mr. Old Man.

When it's Mr. Oldman.

Or maybe it's because you're personally responsible

for all of the building's plumbing issues.

It wasn't untrue.

When I go out drinking,

I don't just flush money down the toilet.

These are garbage!

I also flush hosiery.

And cheeseburgers.

Oldman wants an increase on your security deposit.

- Wha...? - Not just for the ongoing plumbing issues,

but also for what you did to your walls.

Uh, is that us?!

That was there when I moved in.

He wants to be reimbursed for the damages.

And your rent is due.

And that drawing of my bangs is hurtful.

Whoa!

Whoa, that is a lot to take in all at once.

Maybe it wouldn't be all at once if you handled your bidness.

Um...

I handle my bidness.

It's just that Mr. Old Man is super uptight.

And the electric company is super uptight, too.

Selfie S01E11

Baby... baby headaches, be gone.

Baby headaches, leave.

- Baby headaches, be... Bes... Befell... - Sir?

Charlie, knock, please.

Were you raised in a barn?

Yes.

- What? - Yes, I was.

Well, not in a barn, but near a barn.

On a farm.

We grew wheat and also... hops.

Just knock. What do you want?

Uh, saperstein's ready for your annual performance review.

Yes!

Whoo! Let's do this.

Good luck, sir.

No luck involved, Chuck.

I've received the highest review score five years running,

never less than a 98%.

Just call me "Henry Potter."

Why?

Because I make magic like a workplace wizard.

Actually, don't call me "Henry Potter."

Hindsight, I really feel like I would very much dislike it

if people actually started calling me that.

89%?

That can't be right. That's a "B".

That's a... that's a "B".

What am I, hufflepuff?

Don't get hysterical. It's a high "B".

In some state schools,

that might even be considered a B-Plus.

I've never gotten less than an "A" in my entire life.

Yeah. Yeah.

"A", "B",

"C", "W"...

- "X". - Sir?

They're just letters, Henry.

And if I were you,

I'd be more concerned about the negative peer evaluations

that dragged down your score in the first place.

Negative peer evaluati...

Uh, sir, would you mind if I took this file home

to review the comments?

I'm sure I can learn a lot from my... peers.

Charmonique.

It's me, Eliza.

I'm wearing a trucker hat.

I can see that.

Do you have a key to the executive gym?

I had to vacate my premises unexpectedly this morning.

Vacate your premises?

Mm-hmm. Listen.

My electric's off and my rent's due,

along with an unforeseen security deposit

and a "probably should have foreseen" plumbing bill.

I know you've been there, #teamCharmonique.

Oh! don't drag team Charmonique into this.

Team Charmonique pays her bills on time.

Therefore, team Charmonique

does not wish to be associated with some broke-ass...

Hey, I'm not broke. I am not broke.

I just find certain things stressful,

like, bills, invoices, payments,

debits, deposits, withdraws, transfers,

checks, money orders, money market, savings,

interest, account numbers, pin numbers, and prime numbers?

Maybe? What are those, again?

Numbers greater than 1

that are divisible only by themselves and 1.

#TeamCharmonique.

Those are fine, but the rest of that stuff freaks me the freak out.

You know what doesn't seem to freak you the freak out?

Spending money,

- 'cause those boots look brand-new. - Oh.

They are.

You are not wrong.

I really do like spending money,

but now my credit cards are maxed,

I've got not cash, and, plus...

I'm homeless.

Mm.

You know whose help you need?

Don't say Steve Harvey. Please, don't say Steve Harvey.

What? Girl, no!

I'm talking about your boy Henry Potter.

Are people calling him that now?

Spread like wildfire this very morning.

See?

I didn't even know that because Henry's not my boy anymore.

Things got weird between us,

and so my only recourse is to ignore him until one of us dies.

Or you could try being a grown woman.

I am a grown woman!

Then go wash your ass and talk to Henry.

#HygieneFirst, #TeamCharmonique.

Look at this. "A born leader."

"The consummate professional."

"Stone-cold stud."

I'm guessing this one is Larry.

Where is it? Come on.

Ah! Aha!

I knew it. I knew.

It's not my peers who brought down my average.

It's my peer.

One anonymous peer,

one bitter, "hell hath no fury like a woman scorned" peer

who gave me an "F" and called me a bit of a poop.

Who, I ask,

do you suppose would resort to something so infantine?

I have no idea.

Well, I do.

This stinks of Eliza.