Original subtitles

♪ ♪

>> DUDE: Uh, hey, are you using these chair...?

>> LINDSAY: Back off!

(scooches chair)

>> GRETCHEN: Sunday Funday!

>> LINDSAY: Sunday Funday!

(Gretchen laughs)

(both grunt)

>> LINDSAY: Where have you been?

I've had to fight off wave after

wave of hungry, cool dads and trust-fund alts.

It's been like a hipster Game of

Thrones up in this bitch.

>> GRETCHEN: Sorry, Ty drove me.

>> LINDSAY: You banged Ty last night?

>> GRETCHEN: Worse... he came over this morning to invite me

to the Tribeca Film Festival.

We'd leave tonight on a private plane.

>> LINDSAY (gasps): Gretch...

Tribeca is super hip.

It, like, stands for something.

>> GRETCHEN: The triangle below Canal.

>> LINDSAY: No. Something real.

I'll think of it later. Private plane...!

>> GRETCHEN (singsongy): Private plane...!

>> LINDSAY (singsongy): Dicks on a private plane...

>> GRETCHEN: But Jimmy... >> LINDSAY: Gretchen.

Ty is famous.

Also, he's a total dog, so he's

never gonna want you to meet his

gross Polish parents or tell you

about his squash games or ask

you to shave his butthole.

>> GRETCHEN: Tell me you don't

shave Paul's butthole.

>> LINDSAY: Marriage is dark, Gretch.

>> GRETCHEN: I want to go, but

not even really, because of Ty.

>> LINDSAY: Right. Private plane, free champagne.

>> GRETCHEN: No, here's what's

keeping me up all night:

Even though Jimmy's a squirrelly

guy, when I look at him, I

swear I can see years into the

future with this dude.

And that is why I am thinking of

getting on that plane.

>> LINDSAY: Geez...

What are you going to do?

>> GRETCHEN: I'm gonna have the

best goddamn Sunday Funday ever

and figure it out later.

>> LINDSAY: Figure it out later,

dicks on a plane, Sunday Funday.

>> GRETCHEN: Sunday Funday!

>> EDGAR: Sunday Funday, biznitches!

(women laughing)

>> LINDSAY, EDGAR, GRETCHEN: ♪ Sunday Funday

Better than a Monday

Can only do it one way

♪ And that is the drunk way

Sunday Funday... ♪

>> JIMMY: Bloody Mary and a triple whiskey neat.

For the love of God, hurry.

>> LINDSAY, EDGAR, GRETCHEN: ♪ And that is the drunk way! ♪

>> ♪ I'm gonna leave you anyway

I'm gonna leave you anyway

Gonna leave you anyway. ♪

>> GRETCHEN (laughs): I can't

believe you agreed to come to

Sunday Funday...

>> JIMMY: Just because I decided

to come to a "drinking"

brunch does not mean I'm part

of your juvenile ritual.

>> LINDSAY: Jimmy, Sunday Funday is not juvenile.

Sunday Funday is about

participating in fun activities with friends.

>> EDGAR: Sunday Funday is about squeezing every drop of life out

of the weekend...

before Monday.

>> JIMMY: Right, neither of you

has a job.

>> LINDSAY: You can not have a job and still hate Mondays.

>> EDGAR: Like Garfield.

>> LINDSAY: Like Garfield,

Jimmy... Garfield.

>> EDGAR: Hmm, well, you picked

the right day to come--

it's my turn.

>> JIMMY: Oh, you take turns. >> GRETCHEN: Yeah, two weeks

ago, I made a list of activities.

Last week was Lindser's. Today is Edgar's.

>> EDGAR: You may not believe

this, but I never got to lead a

mission in Iraq.

>> JIMMY: Hmm. >> EDGAR: And I'm telling you,

I have designed the Ultimate

Sunday Funday List Ever of All

Time... Ever.

>> JIMMY: What does it say?

"Mooch off Jimmy, scream in your

sleep, threaten people at Best

Buy"?

>> EDGAR: No... It's a surprise.

>> GROUP (chanting): Sunday Funday.

Sunday Funday. Sunday Funday.

>> RINGLEADER: ♪ Ooh, yeah, baby

Can't get enough of the Sunday Now ♪

>> MAN BUN: ♪ Funday, Sunday ♪

>> RINGLEADER: And... >> WOMEN: ♪ Fun... ♪

>> RINGLEADER: Really good

stuff.

Really good stuff, you guys.

>> JIMMY: Those are the kind of

people who do Sunday Funday.

>> EDGAR: I'm from L.A.

Fun hipster shit is just poor

Latino shit from ten years ago.

(Lindsay laughs)

I'm telling you, this is gonna

be the most underground, unique

and dope Sunday Funday Ever...

>> RINGLEADER: Hey, man, you,

uh, dropped this.

>> EDGAR (sighs): Thanks. >> RINGLEADER: Don't worry about it.

Hey, I think it's really cool that you guys are doing Sunday

Funday, you know?

I kind of started it.

Recognize these?

From Drive?

(chuckles)

All right, man, have fun.

(giggles)

>> LINDSAY: To Sunday Funday.

(Edgar grunts)

>> GRETCHEN & LINDSAY: ♪ A Sunday, a Funday

A better than a Monday. ♪

>> RINGLEADER: ♪ Sunday Funday

Sunday Funday

Beep, ba-boop, Sunday Funday

Ooh, yeah. ♪

>> JIMMY: Oh, see you.

>> LINDSAY (grunts): Ty invited

Gretchen to go to Tribeca.

They're leaving tonight.

>> JIMMY: Tribeca?!

>> LINDSAY: It's the triangle for canals, Jimmy.

>> JIMMY: Tonight?

Seriously?

Well, that's fine. We're both free to do what we want.

>> LINDSAY: You really want Ty

flying Gretchen on a private

plane to a fancy film festival?

>> JIMMY: Look, she's a big girl.

She can make her own decisions. >> LINDSAY: No, she can't!

Her decisions are 99% dog shit.

She got LASIK at the Pasadena

Flea Market.

For some perverse reason, you

make her happy.

So, ask yourself this:

Do you want Ty's claws even

deeper into her?

>> GRETCHEN: Ready, Lindsanity?

>> JIMMY: You know, on second thought, I think I will witness

this juvenile display myself.

There's near-constant drinking involved, right?

>> LINDSAY: Near-constant.

>> GRETCHEN: Well... okay.

>> LINDSAY: Full squad! >> GRETCHEN: Full squad.

>> EDGAR: Full squad.

Let's go!

(Lindsay whoops)

(sighs)

>> LINDSAY: Ew...

Why are records so gross?

(gasps)

(whispers): Hey, look. That other weird brunch group is here.

>> EDGAR: Oh, no.

>> LINDSAY: What?

>> EDGAR: Back at the

restaurant, I dropped the list

and that guy returned it.

>> LINDSAY: Aw, that was nice of him.

>> EDGAR: No, don't you see?

He copied the list.

Otherwise, why would he be at

this exact, obscure record

store?

>> LINDSAY: You're being paranoid.

>> EDGAR: No...

I've let important intel slip

into the wrong hands before.

Najaf, 2009. That did not turn out well.

>> JIMMY: Hey... pick a record, my treat.

>> GRETCHEN: All right, big spender. This one.

(Jimmy laughs)

>> JIMMY: Genesis... good.

Okay, but not until you tell me

if you are a Peter Gabriel or a

Phil Collins.

>> GRETCHEN: They're both good.

>> JIMMY: What?

>> GRETCHEN: I like them both. What's the big deal?

>> JIMMY: The big deal is that

you cannot like two things

which are diametrically

opposed.

>> GRETCHEN: Huh.

And yet I do.

>> RINGLEADER: Oh, hey... brunch guy.

Oh, you know about this place, too?

>> EDGAR: Yeah. >> RINGLEADER: Yeah, I-I love

it, it's so... authentic. >> EDGAR: Yeah.

That's why it was on my list.

>> RINGLEADER: Oh, cool, yeah.

Mine, too.

>> EDGAR: Cramp.

>> RINGLEADER: Oh, good.

Sunday Funday.

(Ringleader speaking Spanish)

>> LINDSAY: Look! A baby record. >> GRETCHEN: You rotten bitch!

You're leaving now?

>> LINDSAY: Paul has a work barbecue.

>> GRETCHEN: I'm facing a major decision, and you're leaving me

to hang with those

calorie-counting

Restylane-monsters?

>> LINDSAY: I hate the

salad-eaters, too, but I have

to go.

>> GRETCHEN: Just stay for one more thing on the list. Please?

>> LINDSAY: Only if you buy me the little baby record.

>> JIMMY: Ow. Ow. Ow!

>> GRETCHEN: You are the tensest

dude in the world.

>> LINDSAY: You can literally

touch me anywhere.

I'm not shy.

>> JIMMY: Hey, Edgar, how did

you narrow it down to this

massage spot?

I mean, after all, it's so much

easier to just not make choices,

right, Gretch?

>> GRETCHEN: Here we go.

>> EDGAR: What are you talking

about?

>> JIMMY: Peter Gabriel versus

Phil Collins.

>> EDGAR: Remember when Phil

Collins drowned a guy?

>> JIMMY: That's not the story at all. That didn't happen.

It was disproven a billion times.

>> EDGAR: He sent the guy

front-row tickets.

>> JIMMY: Saying "both" is just

a cop-out.

All right, that's it. I'm helping you figure it out.

>> GRETCHEN: Oh, God.

>> JIMMY: Okay, so I could ask

you-- "Solsbury Hill" or

"Against All Odds."

>> GRETCHEN: Both great.

>> EDGAR: Okay. Aah!

>> JIMMY: Wrong, which is why

we're going to come at this sideways, okay? Number one: which do you prefer?

(Lindsay screams, thuds)

Sean Connery or Roger Moore?

>> GRETCHEN: Daniel Craig.

Update your references, old man.

>> JIMMY: Daniel Craig?

He looks like an upset baby.

(Gretchen laughs)

>> GRETCHEN: Oh, my God,

he does.

>> EDGAR: Let it out. Throw it!

>> JIMMY: Okay, eggs or

pancakes?

>> GRETCHEN: Which one's Phil

Collins, and which one's Peter Gabriel?

>> JIMMY: Are you serious?

Edgar, what are we doing here?

>> EDGAR: The most obscure taco

stand...

What?!

>> FOOD COLUMNIST: Well, this

place is over.

>> RINGLEADER: Oh, cool.

You guys know about this place, too?

>> GRETCHEN: Look, Jimmy, I like

the Tarzan soundtrack, and I

like the crappy Vampire Weekend

song that name-checks Peter

Gabriel.

I'm down with it all.

Why does this bother you so much?

>> JIMMY: It's just such a lazy

way of living.

"Put it in my vagina or my butt.

I don't care."

>> LINDSAY: Sometimes you want

both.

>> GRETCHEN: Yeah, Jimmy.

Sometimes you want both.

(Gretchen mouthing words)

Anyway, your whole thesis is

flawed.

Not everything is one or the

other.

Edgar is both a patriot and a

skeptic.

>> EDGAR: True dat.

>> GRETCHEN: Lindsay's both a wife and a skank.

>> LINDSAY: Recovering, but,

yeah, totally.

>> GRETCHEN: I'm professional and completely unprofessional.

>> JIMMY: Well, that's true. >> GRETCHEN: And, you, Jimmy--you're...

You're just one thing. >> JIMMY: Exactly.

>> LINDSAY: You stop it. Oh, my God.

(Lindsay screaming)

(phone chimes)

>> JIMMY: Well, you're very popular today.

>> GRETCHEN: I know. Sorry. There, I'm done.

You know why I don't want to pick Peter Gabriel or Phil Collins?

Because you are just waiting for me to pick wrong so you can

judge me, and why would I want

to put myself through that?

>> JIMMY: Because I'm asking you to.

>> GRETCHEN: You told him. >> LINDSAY: What?! No.

Gretch, stop overthinking everything.

He's trying to be a good sport and hang out. Just enjoy it.

>> GRETCHEN: Okay, I'll try, but don't leave.

>> LINDSAY: I know, it's gonna suck so hard, but Paul has been

really patient.

(Paul yawning)

>> GRETCHEN: Wait. Has Paul been...?

>> LINDSAY: You'll make the

right decision.

>> GRETCHEN: What's next?

>> EDGAR: Come on, I'll show you.

It's the best one yet.

>> GRETCHEN: Faster! Faster! >> JIMMY: No, slow down!

>> EDGAR: Shopping cart races were my favorite as a kid.

Yeah!

(group hoots and whoops)

>> EDGAR: Jimmy!

You okay?

>> JIMMY: I just want to go home and shower!

What are we doing here?

>> EDGAR: Open houses are on the

list.

Plus, this real estate lady

always has freshly baked

cookies.

>> GRETCHEN: Great idea, Edgar.

A free activity where you can snoop on your neighbors and

judge their shitty taste?

Yes, please.

Get upstairs.

>> JIMMY: What...?!

>> GRETCHEN: Quick, take a shower. >> JIMMY: Come on, what... here?

>> GRETCHEN: Do what I say. I'll get you some dry clothes.

Sunday Funday.

>> JIMMY: Oh, Gretchen, come on.

>> JIMMY: Oh, right! I thought of another one, okay?

Chekov's plays or Chekov's

short stor... (laughs)

Gretchen?

(Gretchen conversing, muffled)

>> GRETCHEN: I know, it sounds

amazing, Ty.

I gotta go.

I'll call you in a bit.

>> EDGAR: The real estate lady

said Jimmy left.

>> GRETCHEN: He did?!

Well, Sunday Funday's over.

>> EDGAR: No! We can't quit now.

>> GRETCHEN: We don't have a car.

Jimmy drove.

>> RINGLEADER (chuckling): Whoa.

Are you guys following us?

>> EDGAR: You son of a bitch.

You stole my list.

>> RINGLEADER: What are you talking about?

>> GRETCHEN: Edgar.

>> EDGAR: Back at brunch,

I dropped the list and he

clearly copied everything on it.

He stole our Sunday Funday.

>> RINGLEADER: No, I didn't.

>> EDGAR: Open houses are on your list, too?

And this exact two-bedroom

colonial charmer?

>> RINGLEADER: We look for Patty Kohan's open houses.

She always has cookies.

What's that in your hand, man?

Looks like a cookie.

(laughs)

>> GRETCHEN: I like your sweatshirt.

>> SWEATSHIRT GIRL: Oh, my God, thanks.

How's your Sunday Funday going?

>> GRETCHEN: Actually, I'm just

using it as a distraction so I don't have to decide between two guys.

>> SWEATSHIRT GIRL: Oh, I hear you.

I am in love with Keith.

>> GRETCHEN: The guy with the man bun?

>> SWEATSHIRT GIRL: We've been

doing Sunday Funday for, like,

two years, and he still calls

me Sloppy Sweatshirt Girl.

So I totally understand where

you're coming from.

>> GRETCHEN: Yeah, cool.

I need to talk to Lindsay.

>> EDGAR: She's at Paul's

West Side barbecue.

How are we gonna get there?

We don't have a car.

No.

No.

♪ ♪

(Gretchen mouthing words)

(women laughing)

>> GRETCHEN: Excuse me.

Ladies, I need to borrow dear

Linds for a second.

Toodles!

>> ♪ I got it all

I got it all indeed

Got everything I want

♪ Everything I need

But what I don't got is

A feeling that's inside... ♪

>> LINDSAY: They're not that bad. >> GRETCHEN: I knew it!

There is one over there dressed head-to-toe in riding gear.

There is not a horse around for miles.

>> LINDSAY: Anyway, this is your fault! >> GRETCHEN: How?!

>> LINDSAY: Around you I'm never the cool one.

But with them, I'm the coolest.

By, like, miles.

>> GRETCHEN: First, you get married, then you abandon me for

these Botoxed pterodactyls. I've never done that to you.

I don't even have any other friends.

Plus, you lied when you said you were dreading coming here.

>> LINDSAY: I wasn't lying. That's the weird thing.

I don't even know exactly what I was dreading.

I like the people.

I like the food.

I don't know what it is.

>> PAUL: Sweetie, Jenna wants to know if she should serve your

spinach dip with water crackers or toast points.

>> LINDSAY: Just go away! I'll be right there!

So, yeah. I can't quite put my finger on

what it is I don't like here.

What?

I mean, I'm sure at some point, everybody looks at their

husband and is like,

"Eh, that's my future.

That's it.

And why does it smell like ham

all the time?"

That's normal, right?

>> GRETCHEN: I hope not.

>> LINDSAY: I just wish I had what you have.

>> GRETCHEN: What do I have?

>> LINDSAY: Someone I wanted to do Sunday Funday with.

>> GRETCHEN: Actually, he bailed. I was hoping he'd stick around

to help me figure out what to do about Ty, but he's...

He's here!

>> GRETCHEN: Well, well. >> JIMMY: Hey.

Listen, um... (clears throat)

Phil Collins--

he has his merits, all right?

As lightweight and nutritionless

they are.

I mean, really, "Land of

Confusion," with is leaden pleas

for world peace and the

healing power of love.

Thank you, George Bernard Shaw.

Give me a fortnight to machete

my way through the dense...

>> GRETCHEN: Jimmy...

>> JIMMY: ...metaphoric thicket of those lyrics.

>> GRETCHEN: Jimmy...

>> JIMMY: And while Peter

Gabriel, he's, he's complex,

dark, you know, interesting,

I recognize that it can be nice

to have some breezy "No Reply

at All" fun.

You know, but following you

around all day today just trying

to convince you what to do?

Well, it's... it's just made me

feel, just-just made me feel

a-ashamed and jealous

and low.

Like Phil Collins when he

wrote "Sussudio."

>> GRETCHEN: Jimmy...

>> JIMMY: But if one day, right,

eggs forced you to choose

between themselves and pancakes,

and you chose the soggy,

tasteless pancakes and never ate

eggs ever again, I'm just saying eggs...

the eggs would be really sad.

>> GRETCHEN: Jimmy.

>> JIMMY: What?

>> GRETCHEN: If you don't want me to go on this trip, just tell me.

>> JIMMY: Don't go.

>> GRETCHEN: Okay.

I won't.

So, just to be clear.

On one side, it's eggs, Peter Gabriel and you, and on the

other side it's pancakes, Phil Collins and Ty?

>> JIMMY: You know, I've been drinking all day and honestly

I'm not even sure anymore.

>> SWEATSHIRT GIRL: Gretchen! I did it!

>> GRETCHEN: Good for you,

Sloppy Sweatshirt Girl.

Good for... you.

You want to get out of here?

>> JIMMY: Immediately.

>> EDGAR: I just... things have

been messed up, and I guess I

thought if I could do a good job

today, maybe I'd have the boost

to get my shit back on track.

>> RINGLEADER: Yeah, well...

Sorry, man.

>> EDGAR: It's not your fault.

>> RINGLEADER: All right.

>> EDGAR: My list!

I knew it!

>> RINGLEADER: Okay, okay, okay.

Shit. Okay, look.

Look, these guys rely on me

to come up with awesome, cool,

underground cultural shit to do every single week.

You know how much pressure

that puts on me?

I got shingles trying to find

a new Ethiopian restaurant.

Please don't blow up my spot,

man.

Please!

Okay?

I have trouble making friends.

>> EDGAR: Wow.

>> RINGLEADER: What?

>> EDGAR: I'm screwed up

because I saw my friends die.

You're screwed up because...

you're just a really lame dude.

Thanks for making me feel better.

>> RINGLEADER: Wait, your friends died?

The ones from today?

What happened?!

Hey.

Yeah... yeah...

>> LINDSAY: There you are, honey.

I came to a decision about the toast points.

(screams)

>> MOMMY: Isabel was getting fussy and I asked Paul to hold

her for a second and she quieted right up.

>> PAUL: I'm a natural. >> MOMMY: What about you?

Gonna be ready for one of these guys soon?

>> LINDSAY: Oh, my God! Aah!

Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH

access.wgbh.org

♪ If I could use you

What kind of fun would it be

♪ That we form?

A laze, lazily

Oh... ♪

♪ When you touch down

I don't want to reach you

♪ When you luck out

I don't want to treat you... ♪