You're the Worst

"George Bernard Shaw."

Oh!

Jimbo, you made me breakfast in bed?

Yeah, right. What have you done to merit breakfast?

Well, at least you brought me a mimosa.

Uh, no, that's my backup. It's stronger.

You might observe,

"Jimmy, how zoetic and vital you seem today."

"How observant, G-dog,"

I might respond.

For today, I build my tree house!

You see, during Vernon's podcast...

During what now?

I learned that my father's voice

has been in my head my entire life.

Dude, I have the same thing, but with my mom's voice.

It's like she's constant...

Yeah, as I was saying about myself,

ever since the funeral, that voice has been

slowly subsiding.

It is my hope that the final nail

in that tree house will be the final nail in the coffin

that is my father's influence.

R.I.P., dickhead.

I'm telling you, Gretchen,

now that I have been de-fathered,

my world is positively pregnant with possibilities.

Great, but isn't it your job to finish your book?

Is it?

I don't know anymore.

Oy.

I guess I can't talk.

I'm reading goddamn self-help.

Oh, yes, that's sure to solve your myriad problems.

My therapist recommended it.

It's about mindfulness,

which is about being completely... No!

I think you'd actually like therapy.

It's really helpful to look at your life

from a different perspective.

Like when they stood on the desks in Dead Poets Society.

Didn't that one kid shoot himself?

Like I'm learning how because of my mom's

impossibly high expectations, I can never turn my brain off.

I am really opening the trunk and seeing what's inside.

Don't you mean the hood?

Your trunk's just cartons of Mexican cigarettes,

old Halloween wigs

and five bags of clothes you never donated to Goodwill.

I really need to get a handle on this mindfulness shit.

I am doing the work.

I'm evolving, Jimmy.

I just don't want you to get left behind.

I think I'll manage.

Anyway, look.

: Blueprints!

Do not touch with your syrup

and-God-knows-what-else-since you-don't-wash-your-legs hands.

Look at us!

You're changing careers to building tree houses.

I'm exploring the roots of my mental illness.

Hey, before we change too much, you want to knock one out?

Sure.

Eh, you can start. I'll catch up.

Let's do this.

Nothing can slow me down,

but who says that eating on the run...

What is going on?

You have been blowing up all morning.

High Times tweeted my Dr. Weed video,

and now I'm getting all these annoying tweets from stoners.

I don't want to be a pot person.

You make videos with a character called "Dr. Weed,"

and you smoke all day, every day.

Listen, Dorothy,

I stopped taking my meds.

What? You went off your meds and you didn't tell me? Yeah.

I didn't want to, you know, declare anything

until I saw how it worked, and listen,

a lot of vets are using weed to help with their PTSD.

I mean, sure, I might take a little longer to do some things.

Like this morning, I laughed for 15 minutes

because the bathroom faucet kind of looks like a face.

But I feel...

really good.

Better than I have in...

forever.

Okay, well, then good.

I am so glad that you finally found something that works.

And if you do turn into a lazy pothead,

then you can always be my house husband.

Speaking of which, let's do this.

Nothing can slow me down,

but who says that eating on the run has to be boring?

With Snack Hacker snacker boxes,

I get my daily recommended allowance of fun.

Mmm! Mm-hmm.

Mmm!

Mmm! Will you knock it off

and eat your goddamn nachos like a person!

What's wrong with you?

My therapist said

I have to practice mindfulness,

so I am focusing on the flavor of the food,

the mouth feel, the swallowing,

the reflecting... on my swallowing.

Jesus Christ, it's like trying to eat an area rug.

Eating slow?

But less food in mouth.

Did you know that things your parents did

when you were a kid can affect you as an adult?

What?! You mean time travel?

Everything was a competition with my mom...

Grades, tennis, who had a lower BMI, even television.

During Wheel, she'd make me solve the puzzle

before the contestants.

All this time, I thought my mom was scary but dope.

Turns out she wasn't dope at all.

So she's not dope. This morning

I realized my entire life,

I've had my mom's judgey voice in my head.

If I don't learn to replace it

with something else mo' better, I am screwed.

Oh!

Hot! Hot!

: Hot.

Wait.

No, no, no, no!

That's what you get for disrespecting nachos.

Okay, so here's your pie flight,

double cream lemon, Kahlúa cream cheese and chocolate satin.

Aw, I'm eating for two for the last time.

Well, you had a good run.

You ready, lady? Yup.

Let's go get this abobo.

Dad?

Dad?

: He's gone.

Yes!

A toast to my triumph,

my creation completed after an honest day of manual labor,

like the people.

Like men.

Thank you Herr Hammer.

I could not have done it without you.

I'll meet you below for a celebratory Pilsner shortly.

Madame Level,

you have been integral to my success,

from your green liquid to your bubble.

A bientot.

Señor... Drilly.

I counted on you most of all.

Go.

Enjoy a Campari on me.

Ciao, amigo.

Oh, man, so many of the girls that I coach are here.

It's like if you dig the student, you're really

gonna love the master, right?

You're gonna kill it.

Hey, Dorothy. Oh, hey.

: Hi.

You signed in for "Cute Yoga Girl,"

but I think we got our wires crossed with your agent.

We were actually excited to see you for "Overworked Mom."

Oh, okay. Great.

Awesome. We have a bathrobe you can just put on.

Yeah. Excellent.

Uh...

Hey, are you sure this is okay?