All language subtitles for 2.Broke.Girls.S01E21.And.the.Messy.Purse.Smackdown.1080p.WEB-DL.AAC2.0.DD5.1.h-264-BTN.eng.mkv

Max.
Do you have any gum?

My breath tastes
like someone else's breath.

You're asking me
if I have any gum?

That's like asking New Jersey
if it has any sluts.

Great. There were onions
in my street meat.

Listen to me.
"Onions in my street meat."

Last year, I was taking meetings
on wall street.

This year, I'm eating meat
from the street by a wall.

Let's see.
Phone, chapstick.

A pill! Could be birth control,
could be ecstasy.

Waiting for a day off
to find out.

Why wait?

If I start touching your hair
in an hour,

don't let me have sex
with anyone.

Max!

Max, what's this?

It's addressed
to Max's homemade cupcakes.

Really? I thought
that was just a thing

I wrote
the new pizza place info on.

It's a $200 check
from that office party we did.

Max's homemade cupcakes
in type!

No way, I've never been
typed out before!

I've been cash, I've sweaty 20s
pushed into my palm,

but I've never been typed!

We's all grown up!
We's legit!

Listen up, diner!
I just hit the big time.

No more serving up slop
to you lowlifes.

So everybody can suck it!
My waitress days are over.

Can I get some more coffee?

Sure.

Earl, what are you doing?

Employees are not allowed
to drink diner liquor.

Now, hold up, Han.
It's April 16th.

Do you know what day
tomorrow is?

Oh, of course.
Happy Martin Luther King day.

Enjoy a drink on me.

It's not
Martin Luther King day.

Black people are allowed

to be excited about
other days too, you know.

It's tax day.

And I always treat myself
to a Brandy when I do my taxes

because I need to be drunk
when I see that refund amount.

Chicken breast,
side of hot sauce.

Breast? Hot sauce?
Come on, it's right there.

Max, now that I have
big love for Sophie,

I no longer say inappropriate
sexual things to other women.

I save all my hot sauce
for her breasts.

Love has made you
a real old lady.

Here you go, Brandy man.
Enjoy.

Max, you got a stamp?

I wanna drop this off
in the mail on my way home.

I have one in my purse.
I'll just get it.

Max, he wants to file
this year.

He doesn't have time
for the search party

to go into your purse
and return.

Hey, it's a purse.
It's supposed to be messy.

No, it's supposed
to be a purse,

not a retirement home
for a pair of panties

stuck to old lifesavers.

I'm kinda off my meal now.

I have a stamp
right here, Earl.

There, see?
Order versus chaos.

Also known as OCD versus

"Oh, here's a CD
I forgot I had."

Would you prefer a flower,
flag, or a love stamp?

Ladies, I don't care which,
I just wanna get these taxes

in the mail
before the deadline.

- Earl, you do your own taxes?
- I surely do.

Proud to say I haven't
missed a year since 1950

when I had my first job
as Frank Sinatra's ball boy.

Ball boy?
Was he a good tennis player?

No, darling,
he didn't play tennis.

The job was washing his balls.

And that was good work
for those times.

Do you mind
if I look over your 1040

to see if I can increase
your return?

Do you, Wharton, do you.

Well, at first glance,
I see you short-changed yourself

on some deductions.

There's 500 right there.

Why don't you sign this now,
and I'll save you what I can

and then drop it in the mail
tomorrow?

Max, look at this.

Blonde ambition here
just saved me $500.

Really? That's pretty cool.

Oh! There's another 100.

- No way, that's awesome.
- Ding, ding, ding.

It's like I won the slots
without being surrounded

by those pissed off ladies
with emphysema.

How could you not know

there was a cupcake check
in your purse?

It just got mixed in.

And anyway, who still sends
important stuff

through the mail these days?

What are we, pioneers?

No, we're businesswomen,

and we need to keep track
of every penny.

Hey, should we frame it
and hang it on the wall?

That way when we're
two billionaire bitches

who hate each other's guts,

we can look at the check
and remember.

Max, I'll never hate your guts.

You don't know.

Business pressure,

you caught me sleeping
with your husband,

anger about your bad facelift.

Oh, honey, I will never
have a bad facelift.

I've been collecting names
of good doctors since I was 11,

and I was terrified
by my piano teacher

whose nose was suddenly here.

That's pretty cool of you
to do Earl's taxes for him.

I'm happy to.

After all, finance is my field
of expertise.

Yeah, pretty cool.
You know, all that stuff.

Helpful hints and whatnot.

Cripes! What more
do I have to do,

Rouge my boobs and stand in a
storefront window in Amsterdam?

Are you gonna help me
with my taxes or not?

Max, I don't know
if it's a good idea.

I've seen your purse.
I can only imagine your taxes.

Can you let go of the purse?
It's just a messy bag.

It's not like I lost your child
in the outback.

It's symptomatic.
Here, look at my purse.

You know what, never mind.

It's too late
for a purse smackdown.

But for the record,
even if you win now,

my purse will kick
your purse's ass.

Later, after it spent two weeks
learning your purse's schedule.

Organized, clean, perfect.
Look.

Just look at it.

Look at it, Max.
It won't bite.

Who are you,
my mother's third boyfriend?

And truthfully,
before I saw that check,

I wasn't even going to file.

But now that our business
is getting real,

maybe I should start getting
real about my finances.

I mean, when we are
two billionaire bitches,

I don't want the government
to swoop in

and Wesley snipe us
for back taxes.

Okay, great.
We'll do it tomorrow.

And I promise, no more
purse slams starting now.

Who is that?

CNN. They found a 34th Chilean
miner in your purse.

Okay, okay!
Starting now.

- Who is it?
- Kim Kardashian.

No.
I'm not Kim Kardashian.

No, I work for a living.

Hey, Sophie, you come down
for your cupcake nightcap?

Yeah, thank you, Max.

But tonight
I'm going to take two.

'Cause I'm getting
ready to date

and I wanna get back
to my fighting weight.

Sophie, what do you mean

you're getting ready
to date again?

Oh, well, there's
some really cute new guys

down at the Polish club.

And--oh, my gosh,
one in particular

is like a cross between
Vin Diesel and Viggo Mortensen.

Yeah, so rich and handsome

you almost don't notice
the wheelchair.

Hard to resist a man in
New York who's got his own ride.

I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry.

Oh, then don't.

It's just what about
you and Oleg?

He thinks you two are a couple.

A couple?

No, this is crazy talk.

I mean, yes, we have had
some hot, dirty sex

in a few kitchens
and toilets, and...

On the floor of a sandwich
shop in the subway.

Plus twice we did it like dogs
on the hallway stairs

and on every smooth surface
in my apartment.

But I mean, come on.
I mean, that's it.

I'm a lady.

Sophie, I can't believe
I'm about to say this,

but for Oleg,
it's not just about sex.

He feels things for you.

I know for a fact
he's buying you a special gift.

Tell her, Max.

Well, he mentioned
something about a fur,

and tonight
when he was talking about you

he did use the word "love."

Love?

Come on, don't ruin
my cupcake buzz.

I mean, this man has no future.

Of course, he does have
a giant penis.

But no future.

I mean, I've worked hard
to get where I am.

I need a man who has a dream
and a drive.

And I can buy a big giant
penis online for $47.

Really?
Add to cart.

Well, then you have to tell him

you're not interested
in going any further.

Oh, all right, don't worry.
I will.

Yeah, I mean,
I need this man in my life

like I need breast implants.

Which is like...
Not at all, right?

Here's another W-2,
H&R blonde.

Thank you.

Max, you worked
at a Mexican restaurant

in long island city?

Oh, my God,
don't be so judgmental.

Mira, look!

I just found a receipt for shoe
insoles and double-stick tape.

Work expense.

Again, senorita,
not a write-off.

Like when you asked if you could
claim your pot dealer

as an entertainment expense.

So I was wrong.
We've all got our talents.

You're great
at doing paperwork,

and I'm great at baking

and finding places to have sex
at carnivals.

Just add that to the pile
I'm calling

"evidence
for your future audit."

Not there,
that's Earl's tax return.

Can I see a copy
of what you filed last year?

Ugh...I didn't file
last year.

Or the year before
or any year ever.

Wait, you've never paid
your taxes?

No, I've never filed my taxes.

I've paid taxes.
I see it on my check.

$8 to the state,
$15 in federal income,

$6.23 to Fica,
whoever that lucky bitch is.

Max, why didn't you tell me
the severity of this last night?

Um, maybe you haven't noticed,
but I have issues around money.

Every year,
I say I'm going to file,

and then I put it off
and put it off

until the day it's due,
like today,

and then I sit down
with a 1040 and my W-2s,

and right around
the fourth question,

I'm like, screw it!

I'm gonna watch old soul train
clips on YouTube before work.

And then I feel like a loser
until tax day is over.

And then I'm like,
who cares? I'm awesome.

I'll do them next year.

So what you're telling me

is your finances are as messy
as your purse.

Careful now!

Starting to get a little hot
up in here.

Fine, I don't care.

I just want you
to get your taxes done.

Now throw away
all of your useless garbage

into this trash can.

You know what, I'm just gonna
go to that pop-up tax place

near the diner.

And I'll throw my "useless
garbage" in the dumpster

on the way out.

Wait, you're gonna spend
like $100

to have someone do your taxes

when I'm sitting right here.

The amount of money
I'll spend down there

is nothing compared
to the amount of money

I'd have to spend on weed
to survive doing taxes with you.

- Good afternoon, girls.
- Hello.

I hope Sophie and I's
wild lovemaking

didn't keep you up all night.

We wanted to come down

and show you the gift
I just gave Sophie.

Yeah, look, girls.
Look at my gift.

It's got a leg.

Wow, I didn't think you two
were the couple type.

We are going into Manhattan

for fruit cocktail
and champagne.

- Want to join?
- Hell, yeah!

No, Max,
you're doing your taxes.

Oh. My mother says
I can't come out.

Have fun.

This means nothing!

I can't believe you're putting
your financial future

into the hands of a hipster
tax place

called "The Tax of Life."

You know
how the old proverb goes.

"You take the good,
you take the bad.

You take what's left, and there
you have the tax of life."

43! Number 43.

And remember,
if you need any help,

I'm acquainted
with your finances.

And I'm acquainted
with your attitude.

Don't say a word.

- I'm 43.
- 'Sup, 43?

I'm Kyle.
I'm your tax bro.

Hi, I'm Max and this is
my mute friend Caroline.

I already started
to fill out the 1040

and I have my W-2s
from this year.

Also some receipts.

Well, let's get started!

Do you have a health savings
account?

- Definitely not.
- Oh, well, we can fudge that.

- I'll put you down for 500.
- Sounds good.

Fudge that? Fudge?

I wasn't aware
there was fudging in finance.

Domestic production activities.

- Like condoms and stuff?
- I guess.

Talk about adjusted
gross income, am I right?

Am I right?

Kyle, put me down for 250.

250.

Should I just put the cheese
plate out for the IRS now?

What about residential
energy credits?

I bought some of those
curly light bulbs once.

Oh, that's another 150 easily.

Sorry, Max,
I can't stop myself.

Money, finances--
this is my thing.

If we were at a copper-plated
jewelry sale,

I'd let you take the wheel.

I can't sit back and watch you
risk our financial future.

You'll be dragging me into this
with you and your tax bro.

Excuse me, tax bro.

Oh, my God, you wanna claim
a residential energy credit?

You don't even have a 5695
up here.

Hey, your mute friend's
all over this.

You should let her
do your taxes.

She's way better.

No, that's cool, Kyle.
I'm not gonna do this.

One more year won't kill me.

I'll just
spend this money on pot.

That's an entertainment
expense, bee-tee-Dubbs.

Max, don't give up yet.
Let me help.

Look, it's already 9:00.
We ran out of time.

At least take a form
and file an extension.

The post office
is open till midnight.

Max, you know you wanna change
your finances.

It's a step.

You're right.
Good idea.

They have extension forms
at the post office.

We can pick one up
when I drop off Earl's return.

- What?
- It's not here.

It's not in my purse.

Last time I saw it,
it was on the coffee table

before you came in
with all your tax stuff.

It must still be there.

Uh, no, you made me throw
all that stuff out.

You threw out
a 75-year-old man's tax return?

You threw some papers out too.

This is so not like me.

The only thing I've ever lost
is my virginity.

What are we gonna do?

No, it's okay. Relax.
No big deal.

We just have to go home
and climb through the dumpster.

No, seriously,
what are we gonna do?

Ready?

No, seriously,
what are we gonna do?

Well, let's get to it.

My garbage
ain't gonna find itself.

Max, I can't.

If I go in there,
I will literally be white trash.

Look, you're the one
who had to butt in

and get all "Wharton" with Earl.

If you had left him alone,

it would be at the post office
safe and sound.

Fine.

But to be clear,
if we find a baby in there,

you're raising it on your own.

Hey, it's already off
to a better start than I had.

There's food everywhere.

Oh, hell, no!
It's Tuesday--trash pick up!

Better get in and out

or we'll be on a garbage barge
to coney island.

Come on,
I'll give you ten fingers.

My shoes.
My dignity.

My shoes.

My hands are touching
a dumpster.

All right,
on the count of three,

I'll push,
you hoist yourself up.

But really pull yourself up,
or you won't make it.

It's hell.
I'm looking into hell.

1...2...3!

Whaa!

I wanted to scream,
but it wouldn't come out.

Okay, well, good luck.
See ya.

- Max!
- I'm kidding!

I'm coming around the back.
I found a place to get a leg up.

Now?
You just saw that now?

Aah!

Why'd you scream?
You knew it was me.

That's the one
I couldn't get out before.

Oh, God, look at this mess.

It's like looking for
a dirty needle in a haystack,

which I've done.

Okay, start poking around.
Look for familiar garbage.

"Familiar garbage"?

I hate it in here.
I wanna die.

It's not that bad.

My mom and I once spent
five hours in a dumpster

looking for proof that her
boyfriend was cheating on her,

and all we found was
a scratch-off worth a $1.50

and a beach towel.

And then, we used that $1.50

to take the towel
to the laundromat.

12 years later,
you and I use that very towel

to dry ourselves off
after a shower.

Well, I'm standing on
a stranger's cold sesame noodles

with egg shells
stuck to my ankles.

You win, Max.

What does that have to do
with me?

It means I'm officially
standing in your purse.

How about more real garbage,
less Caroline garbage?

Caroline garbage?

You have been dumping
on me all day.

Me? What have I done?

"Max, you didn't file...ever?"

I didn't say it like that.

And you didn't file ever.
Is that my fault?

Yes! This is all your fault.

Before I met you, I didn't
even think about a future.

Now I have a future,
and I'm standing in a dumpster!

You are not the only one
standing in a dumpster.

And...get a new purse.

If you had been able
to find a stupid stamp

in that horrid thing,

I would've never even seen
Earl's taxes

and I wouldn't be standing
in a dumpster.

Max, no, no, no!

I will never, ever
recover from that!

Red bulls? Red bulls?
Are those our red bulls?

Where?

Yes! Yes!
That's my garbage!

That's my garbage!
Get over here!

If we find it,
we'll have enough time

to shower and get to
the post office.

Earl's taxes!
Earl's taxes!

Next!

This is unbelievable.

Everyone trying to get their
taxes filed by midnight.

Wow, I haven't seen this much
last-minute licking

since the cops raided
that Thai massage parlor.

- I'll grab an extension form.
- You get in line.

The line's longer
than I expected.

No, we have to file.
She's nursing.

Don't worry.
We're fine.

I'm a bum.

She's got a baby hanging off her
nipple and her taxes are done.

Max, you can't compare
yourself to other people.

You'll do it your way.

And there's a blind guy.

No eyes, taxes done.

I guess he wasn't distracted
by YouTube clips.

Don't be so hard on yourself.

You're filing an extension,
and then you'll get them done.

You say I'm going to file,
but will I?

I say I'm going to clean out
my purse, but do I?

Sophie says she's gonna
tell Oleg, but did she?

An extension
is just another excuse

for me to put it off
and create a bigger mess.

Hey, Max.
What's up?

Bob.
Wow, what are you doing here?

Oh, I just filed my taxes
like everyone else.

Bob had a good year.
Ha.

Who was that?

My dealer.
Forget the extension.

If my pot dealer can file,
I can file.

We still have half an hour.

Run home and get my W-2s

while I stay in line
and fill out the 1040.

Maybe I should stay
and fill it out,

and you can run home.

No, I have to do this.

Don't worry, if I get stumped,

I'm surrounded
by procrastinators.

One of them will help...
Eventually.

Okay, here's a pen.

I'm gonna go drop off
Earl's return in the slot,

and I'll be back
as soon as I can.

Okay.

Uh, hi, can you hold my place

while I get a tax form
for this year?

Oh, cutting it close.
You're worse than me.

- Go, I got your back.
- And she's got your front.

So I add up all these lines
and put the total here?

- Right.
- What about student loans?

Yes, and I paid mine off
this year.

Then claim it.

That interest
is a huge write off.

Put down $436 on line 33.

- Post office is closing!
- No!

My friend just texted me.
She's almost here.

Please,
I have to file this year.

Midnight is midnight!

Boo!

Oh, please,
I have six children at home.

This is nothing.

Here! I'm here, I'm here!
What time is it?

30 seconds.

Make room, make room.

Stapler, stapler.

- 10...
- Sign it! Sign your 1040!

- 9...
- Where?

8...7...

6...
Fold! Fold, you bastard!

5...4...

3...

2...

No stamp.

- What?
- Aw!

It's cool.
I got ya, boo.

I did it!
I filed my taxes!

Everybody can suck it!