KKillian
I just moved in... over there.
KKillian
Why do you say that?
Because the death of any interesting neighborhood is the influx of white procreators.
KKillian
Oh, that's cool. My nutritionist is gay, too.
I'm not gay. I'm English.
KKillian
You want to hang out sometime?
What? What are you even talking about? I'm an adult. Do you know what that means? [pause] It means that I am beset upon at all times by a tsunami of complex thoughts and struggles, unceasingly aware of my own mortality and able to contemplate the futility of everything and yet still rage against the dying of the light. [pause] So do you see how monumentally stupid you, a child, asking me "do I want to hang out sometime" is?
KKillian
My dad designs video games. We get all the new ones early.
[watching Ferris Bueller's Day Off] This movie has one of the greatest villains of all time.
Yeah. Principal Rooney is so mean.
Rooney? Rooney's not the villain.
Oh, you mean the sister, that girl from...
JEJimmy/Edgar
...Dirty Dancing/Wind.
Okay, first of all, Wind is what you retained from Jennifer Grey's career? And no, she's not the villain either.
Cameron? No. Cameron's his best friend, Cameron's his sidekick.
Edgar, I think I know a little something about Campbellian storytelling. Ferris is the hero, Jennifer Grey is the foil, Principal Rooney is the fool, Sloane is the sidekick, Cameron's the villain.
Wait, how is Cameron the villain?
Ferris just wants to show Cameron a fun day for once in his pathetic little life, but Cameron acts like a whiny knob the whole time, subverting every attempt at fun with his passive-aggressive anxiety and relentless nay-saying, essentially ruining what might be Ferris's last day of freedom by being a miserable, agoraphobic, cockblocking enemy of fun!
Cameron's sick, he doesn't even want to go out, but Ferris guilts him into it and...and makes him steal his father's luxury automobile.
Are we even watching the same movie?
Do you even know what love means?
Yeah, it's like, "Hey, I love you. Smooch, smooch. Now go make me some bagel bites."
Love isn't about having someone to get you things. Love is putting someone else's feelings above your own. Do you think you could ever do that? Honestly?
Ew. [beat] I didn't mean that.
SSaleswoman
You've been standing here for 20 minutes. Can I help you find something?
No, I'm fine. I'm waiting for someone. My son... actually. Jayden?
SSaleswoman
Cart paralysis. It's very common. What do you need to get?
Everything! I just moved in with my boyfriend and I don't have any stuff except for a food processor and, like, nineteen thongs, because even though at first we were like, "I am not wearing that," the patriarchy somehow convinced us that visible panty lines were unacceptable, so now I've just grown accustomed to the feeling of a fabric rope against my actual asshole all day. And anyway, even if I did buy the stuff of a life, there's nowhere for me to put it because I'm not sure this dude really wanted me to move in because I'm an irresponsible monster who burned down her apartment with her vibrator!
SSaleswoman
I'm just gonna leave you with this checklist for college freshmen.
My biking buddy Conner, his wife Mimi died recently.
Recumbant bikes have many good qualities but sometimes they're hard to see from up high. The driver of the semi never knew she was there, poor thing was dragged three miles. I've never seen Conner pedal so fast. He kept motioning frantically for the truck to stop. But the driver thought he wanted him honk. She was actually alive until the semi got on the freeway.
Well that's the most terrible thing...
Sad thing is Mimi didn't want to go out that day because her safety flag had been stolen outside the junior high but Conner told her that they could stop at the bike store after they raced to Starbucks for tea.
Please give my condolences to Conner...
The really sad thing, is that Conner wanted to let Mimi win, because her impetigo had been flaring up again, that's the only reason she reached the intersection first.
I don't really need to hear...
The extra sad thing? The whole time she was being dragged towards the on-ramp she was texting Conner, her phone still accessible in its holder on the handlebars. I saw the texts...they're quite chilling.
[talking to Gretchen on Facetime] Hey. Do you want to get a lap dance with me?
Oh, hell yeah, I do. [Jimmy puts phone in jacket pocket and maneuvers around] Oh, no, no, no, no, the one with the C-section scar.
Do you know what I'd rather experience than long-form improv? Long-form bone cancer.
No, I don't think it is. See, you just described an improvised comedy scene to me. That's worse than telling someone about a dream that doesn't feature them sexually. I mean, you've had some awful, awful hobbies, but this is by far the worst. And I'm including heroin and not knowing things are a school.
I didn't know it was a school.
What is going on with you?!
The only thing going on with me is I am trying to make-do being stuck in this house, and you're obsessed with this stupid mouse! I know, let's do shots. [Picks up two empty bottles] Oh, my God, we're out of booze.
Good. I think you've had enough.
You've had enough. Edgar! Edgar! We're out of booze.
We'll make a run later. [beat] M-Maybe Jimmy's right. Relax.
Relax? Says the guy so riddled with anxiety, he can't sleep through the night without screaming!
Yes, well, uh, we all know that I'm taking the prescribed steps to overcome the very common issues caused by combat situations.
Ugh! We know. You were in a war. Get over it! And while you're at it, get over Lindsay. Have enough self-respect not to focus on someone who's still clearly obsessed with her lame, soft ex-husband.
This is really hard for me.
Oh. "Waah. My husband left me for a female him, and now I can't function in life. Waah!"
[Dorothy laughs, causing Gretchen to turn to her]
Oh, and you! Theater girl!
Improv is the lowest form of comedy. That whole school of yours is just a bunch of actors so janky-looking, no one will write lines for them, so you have to make them up yourself.
DDorothy
[into it] Aw, shit.
You're what this town calls a tweener. You're not hot enough to be the lead, and not fat enough to be the funny friend.
Look, as spectacularly entertaining as this is, maybe you should take a breather.
No, seriously, Jimmy, I feel such empathy for you, being a writer. I mean, everyone feels sorry for kids forced to work in the diamond mines in Sierra Leone, but where is the telethon for the noble writer? Bravely drinking coffee, spilling his blood to get his feelings out, filling two, maybe three whole pages before his heroic effort is cut short by the desire to watch Internet porn or get a snack! All of you! Sucking the air out of the room with your self-pity-riddled non-problems! Except you, Vernon. You got real issues. You're married to Becca.
This place is an emotional black hole, and if it wasn't for the runners—yes, they have a name, they're not just "the people," you giant doofus—I would be driving as fast as I could away from you all! But I can't! Because apparently, I live here now, due to completely-beyond-my-control wiring issues for which there will be a lawsuit. Yes! There will be a lawsuit! [sniffles] There will be no lawsuit.
