Original subtitles

ANNOUNCER: The Assassination of Gianni Versace.

Premieres Wednesday, January 17 on FX.

FXX presents You're the Worst.

GRETCHEN: I don't get it. What's international night?

BOONE: It's this thing we do with Olivia

to broaden her palette. You and she each pick a country,

you do a little presentation on it,

I pick the winner, and we order food from there.

-Ugh. Homework? -BOONE: Oh, my God.

Just pick France, wear a beret, say a fact,

-and you're done. -Okay.

I'll do your stupid report.

And afterwards, I'm gonna suck

all the skin off your dick, like I'm a... -Ah!

Speaker phone! Child in the kitchen!

Hi, guys.

Not that we don't value listening

to you describe fellatio

so graphically that I just got vomit saliva,

but what are we doing here?

You guys said you wanted to diversify your audience, right?

Trying to get that "shower with the LED mood-lighting" money.

Which is why I want to introduce you to a client of mine

who's looking to collaborate.

His name is Ben Folds.

Ben Folds? You mean that Billy Joel, Harry Potter-looking dude?

Yes. He is huge with college educated, affluent white people.

If you guys did a song together, it would be massive.

I don't want to just throw out the phrase,

"Plays over the Grey's Anatomy credits," but, yeah, that.

Hell yeah. Yeah, yeah. We're in.

You guys are gonna love him, and I will be there

to make sure everything goes smoothly.

Ben!

This is Sam and Shitstain.

Guys, this is Ben.

-Hey, guys. -SHITSTAIN: Hey.

Really good to meet you.

This is a really nice place.

You think they serve alcohol?

Uh, yeah.

I-I think so.

-Hey, could we get some alcohol? -Sure.

GRETCHEN: I'll just have whatever your whiskey drink is.

Ooh, that sounds amazing.

Yeah, I'll have one, too.

Damn, you must be thirsty as shit.

It's just that back in North Carolina,

there are all these regulations on hours and distributors,

and we definitely don't have your crazy mixed drinks

like you have out here.

I mean, basil in gin?

Your taste buds are like, "What the heck?"

GRETCHEN: (laughs) Anyway, Ben,

these guys are really excited about the idea

-of collaborating. -Oh, look.

I've been a huge fan since "Pussy On Swole."

I mess around with it in sound check all the time.

(imitates beat)

* Girl got pussy

* On swole, uh

* She makin' me crabby

* Uh, I want her heart

* And I want her soul

* And them titties

* Them titties ain't shabby.

(inhales sharply)

Damn, dude. That's tight.

Yeah, I like that shit. Okay, okay.

Why don't we link up at the studio tomorrow night,

and lay something down?

Let's do it.

Whoa, look at all that alcohol.

* I'm gonna leave you anyway

* I'm gonna leave you anyway *

* Gonna leave you anyway.

* Dun, dun, dun, dun.

Oh, I guess you're having one, too.

So, what's the big news?

Jimmy, The Width of a Peach

is number 13

on The New York Times

Best Seller list for Mass-Market,

Paperback Fiction.

-What?! -(Candace laughs)

This is amazing!

I have to admit, I tried to act

like making the Amazon list wasn't a massive disappointment,

but let's face it, it's like winning a Daytime Emmy.

You're burnt, Ellen.

So, we have to ride the momentum. There's Harry,

-with Harry Connick Jr., very big with women. -Eh.

Watch What Happens Live, women and gays.

-(groans) -The People's Choice Awards,

women, gays, teens, plus general dummies.

-Ugh. -I can read you the loser suggestions.

Uh, let's see. Tomorrow night is Tip of My Tongue,

an NPR game show for dweebs, hosted by Steeb Corniglia.

Steeb Corniglia loves me.

Impressing him would be the ideal way

to show that I can write a hot wanker

and still have the respect of a noted literary critic.

Book me on that show.

-(Lindsay sighs) -(door closes)

I didn't exactly know what you meant by

"grab work clothes from France."

Are you fake going to Paris again?

No, it's just for this dumb thing

I'm doing with Boone tomorrow.

An Eiffel Tower?

Jealous. Who's your third?

But I'm gonna see you afterwards at Jimmy's radio thingy, right?

I don't want to go,

but I'm supposed to be helping people right now,

like Lou Diamond Philips told me to.

What radio thingy?

"Please join me tomorrow night

"for a live taping of NPR's Tip of My Tongue.

You can laugh at my delightful jokes

and whatever hilariously tragic look

Steeb has concocted for the evening."

Oh!

I could help Steeb not look so tragical.

I'm full of good clothes ideas.

I'm like an armoire, but I'm a people.

Want me to see if I can get you in?

Jimmy didn't invite me. Nah, nephew.

I'm doing international night with Boone.

What's international night?

More boring dad shit?

Don't be sleeping on dads.

Dads know how to bang down real good,

on account of they pregged up a bitch before.

That tracks.

(with French accent): Ooh, la, la.

Happy French day, Booner.

(both moan)

Kuwait seeks OPEC oil cuts.

Ah. Okay, um...

(growls)

Well, if you Ku-wait

on producing that oil,

I'll sleep like I-raq.

(laughs)

I remember my first time in Kuwait.

It was 113 degrees, which sounds bad,

but actually, the pools of blood were...

Eject! (clears throat) Right, so,

we have covered current events, historical limericks,

quirky human interest.

I think Steeb and his listeners are gonna be blown away

by what's on the tip of my tongue.

-What is it? -What's gonna be on there?

It-it's jokes.

-Oh. I get it. -Oh, yeah. Right, yeah.

-Jokes. Jokes. -Yeah, right.

You want a little insurance?

Explain, Edgar's friend.

You have a plant in the crowd

shout out a lame, prepared heckle

that you have a great comeback for.

It's called a "Mencia."

Isn't Vernon gonna be there?

-He'll do it. -Great idea.

I'm sorry Jimmy isn't a good friend to you.

Hey, I'll always listen to anything you have to say.

-Thanks, man. That means a lot. -Mm-hmm.

But...

I'm not really great about opening up.

Why don't you tell me what you were gonna tell Jimmy earlier,

but he didn't let you?

Okay.

Well, um...

You see, I was stationed in Kuwait

before moving into Anfal.

And Anfal, it's known for its architecture, right?

No, its genocide. So there we were,

three klicks south of Ali Sabah Al-Salem...

-(soft piano music playing) -(microphone feedback)

WOMAN: Check. One, two, check.

(indistinct chatter)

VERNON: Jimmy!

So stoked to be here.

Truth be told, I've been on for 72 straight hours,

and I'm kind of seeing a lot of spiders made out of light.

But I'm good to go.

I got a Camelback full of Casamigos and Monster Energy.

Right. I need your help with a super-secret heckle.

If you hear me say the words,

"That was a squeaker," you yell out this prewritten quip

for which I have prepared a killer comedic response.

Nice.

(Lindsay sighs)

He needs my help.

Excuse me.

Hi. I'm Lindsay.

-Why, hello. -(chuckles)

No need to be timorous.

I love meeting my fans.

No. I don't know any of this dork crap.

I'm a friend of Jimmy's,

and I'm a stylist.

Ooh, I adore Jimmy.

Between you and me,

it felt like a cacodoxy

to be sidetracked by a genre experiment. Concur?

Listen, I thought you might be looking for someone

to update your "tragic look."

"Tragic look"?

Who said that?

Duh. Jimmy.

Czesc. My country is Poland.

Poland? (laughs)

Nice choice. What, was Kyrgyzstan already taken?

Poland is the ninth largest country

in Europe.

They boast 17 Nobel Prize winners,

and their main foods are pierogies,

kielbasa and golumpkies.

(laughing): What? "Blumpkins"?

Spoiler alert: this bitch is toast.

JIMMY: From the beginning, I was screwed.

My mom's uterus was L-shaped.

That's why I have equilibrium problems.

And then in the fourth grade, my friend pooped his pants,

so I did, too, out of solidarity, and...

I liked it.

So, at first, we just tried,

you know, sticking straws directly into the camel's humps,

but he was not having that.

So, I got out a grenade.

And I say, "Hey, man.

"I'm new to skid row, I just did a shitload of heroin,

"and I need to take a nap.

I'll find you a new tent."

Basically the MS-13s were like,

"Do you want to get jumped in or sexed in?"

And I had a girlfriend at the time, so here we go.

(grunts)

-(applause) -Broadcasting live from Los Angeles,

I am book critic, radio host and failed amateur gardener...

-(laughter) -Steeb Corniglia,

and this is Tip of My Tongue.

(cheering)

I may have left a trail of vegetable corpses

in my wake, but I am still qualified

to introduce our special guests.

Back with us is actor,

writer and master improviser

-Andy Daly. -Oh, thank you, Steeb.

Hey, is it true that you had a restraining order

placed on you by a clutch of watercress?

(laughter)

Also, television writer and comedienne

-Emily Heller. -If anyone brought legumes,

please know that Steeb can't be within 500 feet of them.

-(laughter) -STEEB: It's true.

I bean a bad boy.

-(laughter) -And, finally,

erotica writer Jimmy Shive-Overly.

(scattered applause)

Thanks, Steeb. Uh, well,

I hope they're not serving carrots at crafty...

Let's get started with our first game:

"Who's Steeb Right Now?"

(applause)

ANDY: Well, one thing we know about Steeb

is that he is a perpetrator of hominy-cide.

(laughter)

* La, la, la

* La, la, la, la

(French accent): Everyone knows that France is the best country.

They basically won World War II,

and they invented the best type of kissing:

tongue kissing.

Their president is a Benetton model

who bangs his mom-wife.

(music volume increases)

(lip-synching): * Mon petit chou

* Mon petit chou

* Mon petit chou, chou bee doo bee doo bee doo *

* Mon petit chou, chou, chou bee doo *

* Quand je vois ton sourire

* Tes yeux, tes lèvres, tes cheveux *

* Oui, je sais

* Que tu es le seul

* Mon soleil, mon balance, sans pareil *

* Oui, c'est vrai

* Tu es ce lui que j'adore

* Tu seras toujours mon amour

* Et c'est pourquoi

* Je suis avec toi

* Mon petit chou

* Chou, chou bee doo

* Mon petit chou...

Oh! Thank you, Gretchen.

-(music stops) -Ah, the winner

is Poland. Way to go, sweetie!

-Hooray! -(claps)

Are you kidding me?

I-I'm not even done yet.

I have a whole thing with a baguette!

This is bullshit!

Which goes back to my original point: don't open a bottle

of Gruner Veltliner with a first-chair oboist

unless you want to end up

in her laundry room, peeing into her mop sink.

(laughter)

STEEB: Okay. Our next game

is "Limerick Lightning Cage Match."

I will read a limerick, and you will complete it.

Jimmy, let's start with you.

"Astronomers chose just to can it,

"but the little guy's fans

"couldn't stand it.

"Now the stars have aligned,

"and they're changing their minds

by returning its status to..."

(woman coughs)

Granite!

(murmuring)

Who paid you to throw this game?

-(laughter) -Emily?

Planet, referring to Pluto,

-of course. -But granite was a great guess.

I mean, scientists can never tell

when something is made of granite.

-(laughs) -They call it their white whale.

-(laughter) -STEEB: Good point, Andy.

So, ten points

for Emily, and negative five points

-for our resident smut peddler. -(laughter)

Well, for your information, this "smut peddler"

is on New York Times Mass-Market Paperback Best Seller list.

Ooh. The Mass-Market list.

-(laughter) -What other books

might one find on that list?

Oh, uh, How My Cat Cured My Cancer.

-(laughter) -Ooh, yes.

American Ninja Warrior: The Novel.

-(laughter) -The Life-Changing Magic

of Throwing Some Things in the Garbage.

(laughs) What are we watching?

I know a bunch of the sounds they're saying,

but I don't understand the sentences.

(laughs)

ANDY: Chicken Soup for the Stomach.

EMILY: The DiCaprio Code.

Paul, I'm at a very important Jimmy thing.

PAUL (over phone): Lindsay! I got arrested

for biking under the influence. (groans)

Come bail me out, Lindsay, please.

-I need your help. -You need my help?

Or Angels Are Real, I Swear.

-(laughs) -How about

uh, Shakespeare, But With Vampires?

Improve Your Memory in Zero Easy Steps.

(uproarious laughter)

Or, uh...

Killer, uh, B-Ballerinas.

(laughs)

(woman coughs)

Well, that was a squeaker.

(snoring)

(woman clears throat)

I said, that was a squeaker!

-(scattered laughter) -"Hey, Shive-Overly.

"Why don't you try writing

your own obituary and then kill yourself?"

"Jimmy Shive-Overly died this week.

His member was stiff, and soon, so was the rest of his body."

(laughter)

Now, that's a squeaker.

(laughter, applause)

*

BOONE: Hi.

What the hell is wrong with you?

I don't know how to act with her.

I'm not her mom. I'm not her friend.

I'm trying to make this work.

I feel like I'm supposed to be good at this.

Do you think I'm good at this?

Last year I bought her a sword.

I lost her at the mall

because I was staring at a Cinnabon too hard.

Just be yourself, okay?

I'm gonna order some pierogies.

Come down and join us when you're ready.

EDGAR: And so...

since I still have shrapnel in my body

but I don't have insurance, it's...

it's kind of like the memory of that day

when I lost my best friend...

is always inside me,

between my colon and my genitals.

Whoa.

I don't know what to say.

My heart.

-Thank you. Ah. -Mm-hmm.

That feels...

really awesome telling you my truth.

Oh, shit.

We missed the entire show.

-(sighs) -Eh. I guess we should get back to work.

We still have to write our sketch for this week.

What if there's a dictator who's a tater,

but also a total dick?

Actually, I'm just gonna head home.

But I feel so honored that you shared that with me.

(quietly): Yeah.

I'm sorry.

Did I talk too long?

No. That was a gift.

Thank you.

JIMMY (whispers): Thank you.

(Paul groaning)

Lindsay...

it wasn't my fault.

The entire DUI industry is run

by a for-profit organization

called Mothers Against Drunk Driving.

They keep lowering the legal limit

so they can raise money

to pay their huge executive salaries.

That's mothers for you. (sputters)

Wow, Linds.

The smell, right?

I know. I lost a rotisserie chicken in here somewhere,

and I can't find it anywhere.

No, uh... I'm just impressed.

You've really moved on.

I was so excited to be a father, Lindsay.

I even... started a...

video diary...

...to welcome it into the world.

Hi, baby. This is entry number 47.

Today we're gonna focus on the constellation

Auriga, the charioteer.

-I'll take you to Mexico to see it one day. -Mm.

Hopefully, by then my stomach will have adapted to the molé.

I'm so sorry, Bear.

You can still be a dad someday.

You just need to find the right...

(snoring softly)

What's the book about?

Great Plains settlers in 1875.

So interesting.

What's going on in the part you're reading?

The settlers don't have enough food,

so the little girl's dog runs away.

Oh. Like Bus Stop Goat.

-Who? -He's, like, the greatest pet of Instagram.

We DM all the time. Look.

(ringtone playing)

Oh, shoot.

I forgot I have to go do this thing with Ben Folds.

Who's Ben Folds?

Promise you'll never repeat that in public.

Okay. I'll see you later.

(pats Olivia's back)

(sighs, sniffs)

(phone rings)

Uh...

-Hey, Doug. -Edgar. Doug Benson.

Quick call before I board a flight to Davos.

I'm hosting a forum on building investor confidence

in post-civil war Moldova.

Wait. There's a civil war in Moldova?

Not yet, but we're aiming for March.

Listen, you're gonna be doing

all the high-concept sketches from now on.

I'm moving Max over to episode development.

But you have my full confidence.

Okay, got to run.

Deep state never sleeps.

-* -(indistinct chatter)

Hey.

I got your text.

Uh, what he's having, but a triple.

-He's having a triple. -Right.

So make mine... nine.

Sorry your dumb radio show was mean to you.

I thought I could be the one writer

to elevate the romance genre.

Your book elevated the only thing it needed to: my dick.

(chuckles)

And what's with the dress?

Are you starting a Serge Gainsbourg cover band?

No, I just had to go to this stupid thing in Eagle Rock.

All things in Eagle Rock are stupid.

What was it, runny cheese tasting at the Converse store?

It's called international night,

with that guy, Boone, and his daughter.

(phone chiming and vibrating)

If you have to be somewhere...

Mm, no. I have this work thing, but...

nobody will care if I'm a little late.

-WOMAN: I told you... -Gretch, where are you?

Ben's hella late.

You said this dude was professional.

This was supposed to be our big opportunity.

Where is this fool?!

Where are you?! Ugh!

BEN FOLDS: Hey, guys!

SAM: There he is.

You ready to rock?

I am indeed.

Can I offer you boys a tooch of rug?

Rug? That doesn't sound right.

Hey, Ben, are you...?

-Holy shit! -Holy shit!

-Are you okay? -Dude, your head!

I'm fine.

After the restaurant, I stayed me had some couple Manhattan.

And then blue drink.

That was yesterday.

Well, then why was I in Griffith Park tomorrow?

All right, let's do this.

-All right. Uh, don't worry about it. -Catfish vanilla?

Who puts drinks on a piano? Two, three, six.

(bottles clinking, rapid tapping on table)

I can't hear it. I can't hear it.

It's in the key of E, guys.

(bottles clinking, rapid tapping continues)

(phone chimes)

(phone chiming, vibrating)

I have to tell you something.

I came by your house the other day

and saw you doing some chick on the couch.

So who was the nasty slizz?

Uh, well, that was Katherine, my old friend from home,

but she's not nasty.

I mean, boring, sure.

She's unbearably annoying.

Completely reeking of unearned snobbery.

-(laughing) -She's an entertainment lawyer,

that noble calling.

(with British accent): That's what John Adams was, wasn't he?

-Ooh. Uh... -(Gretchen laughs)

Excuse me. Is this chair free?

-Does it look like it's free? -Obviously my bag

is sitting there, idiot.

(Gretchen laughs)

* Oh, why'd you do me so?

(Gretchen moans)

* Well, why'd you do me so?

* Well, why'd you do me so? *

* Why'd you do me so?

Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH

(dog barks)

Are you a fan of poetry?

"We shall not go gentle into this good night."

If you know what I mean.

(stool scrapes)

(screaming)

ANNOUNCER: American Horror Story: Cult.

All new, Tuesdays at 10:00 on FX.

(creaks) Ha-ha! Loser!

It's not funny. Yes, it is.

Stop it! (running footsteps)

(door slams)

ANNOUNCER: Better Things.

All new Thursdays at 10:00 on FX.

(water dripping)

(thunder rumbling)

Here's your dumb monocycle.

(sighs) Plus I rubbed my feet on everything that you own,

so everything that you own smells like feet.

ANNOUNCER: Baskets.

Premieres Tuesday, January 23 on FX.