What's going on in there?
I don't suppose there's any way you took a giant dump on your dresser?
I can't blame Chestnut.
He's probably nervous.
After wearing your leggings, he's getting ready for his fame audition.
He's a maniac.
Maniac on all fours.
Oh, Max, here's something.
The Ivy Bridge Riding Stables in Brooklyn, only five miles away.
It says on their website that their horses are featured in commercials and films.
Can you say chestnut star of the War Horse sequel?
Did you take the weed from my bedside table?
Look at me.
Look at me in the eyes.
Are you high?
Honestly, a little.
Now close that and go to sleep.
No, I'm still reading.
Oh, look at that.
I just pulled down your browser history.
Interesting list.
Kitten plays a keyboard.
Kitten sneezes and farts at the same time.
Give me that.
That's private.
Kitten folds a T-shirt.
Oh, kitten rings a doorbell.
I thought you said you weren't into pets.
I'm not.
It's a kitten ringing a doorbell.
He's trying to get in like people.
You have a secret soft spot for animals.
No, I'm just into freaky kittens.
There's one who puts on a snakeskin suit and goes on a business trip.
That's not soft, that is freaky.
Fine, you're telling me to get a reality check about Chestnut, but you need one too.
You're gonna miss him when he's gone.
Max, are you listening?
Max, don't worry.
I know it's all going to work out perfectly at the stables tomorrow.
I'm not worried.
Oh, it's Oleg.
I bet she wants to have phone sex.
Is there anything I can lean on?
Hey, Sophie.
I was just making some baby back ribs and I thought, I want my baby back.
Then I pleasured myself with an oven mitt.
No sex?
Because I see a bench at the perfect height, and I can have Max hold the phone for us.
Is that Sophie?
Is she with Max?
Give me that.
It's Han.
And you know, he sounds even shorter long distance.
Max, did you play with the ringtone on my phone?
Every time it rings, it makes sex sounds.
Mother, I have to call you back.
Sounds like she's doing just fine on her own.
How do I make the sex sound stop?
For you, it's a rare occurrence.
Just leave it in your pants and enjoy it.
So, Max.
Uh, sorry, hon, I can't hear you.
I'm driving through the hills.
I'm breaking up my... Oh, oh, oh.
I'm coming, mother.
There's daddy's little jock block.
I tried to release my sexual frustration creatively, but my erotic poetry was rejected by National Pornographic for being quote just disgusting.
My sexes are so lame.
Why can't I be disgusting?
There's a burrito stuck to the side of your dresser.
You're there.
Can't wait for you to put your butt on top of my butt in my pants?
Geez, thanks for the nice break from being horny.
I am not proud of how not slutty it is.
Give me back my phone.
It hasn't had its shots.
Send.
What?
Your testicles are two glistening Cadbury eggs, and Mama's got a sweet tooth.
This mama's got puke in her mouth.
I cannot believe you sent something so disgusting.
You are dead to... He likes it!
You wanna turn the man on?
You call Oleg.
What's sadder than former billionaire Caroline Channing asking for money for pants?
Oh, they're not gonna know it's me.
Are you being funded by Al Qaeda?
If they're buying, I'm taking.
And action.
Hi.
I can't tell you my name, and I can't show you my face because I'm too ashamed.
Sadly, I find myself in a situation where I am no longer able to provide myself with the garments I need in order to be the best in my day-to-day life.
I'm aware that this is not a problem for everybody.
I need to take a picture of myself having the most fun I've ever had.
Your nose is coming out of your eye hole.
No.
No, no, no, Max, don't stop.
I'm in a groove.
No, you're in a bag.
Please let me take a picture of you in a bag and then turn it into a dog and then call it a doggy bag.
Go, Max!
I'm running out of oxygen and... I think there was cheese in here.
And action.
If I achieve my goal, specifically a new pair of quality pants...
And I promise I will give back to the community wearing said pants.
All I need is $1,500.
Stop.
Whoa.
$1,500?
How many pounds of clothes are you getting?
Look, it's for one pair of amazing Dries Van Noten silk brocade pants.
Super cute.
And yes, it's a lot, but my investors will get something in return.
For $5, they will get the feeling of goodwill in their heart.
For $10, I'll send them a selfie in the new pants that they bought.
For $20, I'll send them a selfie without pants.
Nobody is gonna give you money for the stuff you offered.
Goodwill in their hearts?
This is the internet, we're animals.
You're right.
I have an idea.
Camera up.
And action.
I'm sure a lot of you are probably thinking, look at this spoiled, indulgent, clueless girl.
Well, I am.
And you're also probably thinking, God, I want to slap her.
Well, guess what?
You can.
For $500, you can come here and slap my spoiled, clueless face.
And cut.
Pretty good, huh?
Genius.
Now here, take the camera.
I want to film my video to raise $500 to slap you.
Ugh, green beer.
Is this really how we honor the Irish, some of our greatest writers and poets?
Oh, did they come up with, if you sprinkle when you tingle, be a sweetie, wipe the seedy?
First of all, not a real poem.
And as the person who shares your bathroom, maybe take that advice.
Maybe take that frown and get it drunk.
Okay, sure.
We're two young girls on the town on what's probably America's most dangerous holiday.
Why?
Why have our wits about us?
That's the spirit.
And who knows?
Maybe you'll meet a cute Irish guy.
Happy St.
Paddy's Day!
Larney Bill, are you the owner of this colorful establishment?
I'm not even the owner of these pants.
Where's me kiss?
Blarney Bill's like the mascot of this place.
Every year I kiss him for good luck.
And when does that luck kick in?
Where's me kiss?
I left it in me other purse.
Wow.
That's a wet mustache.
Scotch and fish.
What?
That's why it's wet.
Man, he's the best.
The best what?
Hey, girls, sold my last shirt.
Told you that small would fit.
Look at Han at that table with all of those, I want to say girls, waiting to take pictures with him.
Oh, no, you're not Becca.
Hey, though.
Oh, my God, you look so much like my friend Becca.
Are you guys in line to take pictures of the leprechaun?
No.
$5.
Wait, what?
Ah, yes, we are the leprechaun's McAgent and McManager.
It'll be $5 to take a selfie with the leprechaun.
That is a great deal.
Max, I am not doing this.
Fine, then we'll have to use the cupcake money for our cab home.
Okay, that there's virgin leprechaun.
So it's $10.
10 for a picture, 15 for a kiss, nothing below the waist.
That's because there's nothing below the waist.
Will you take a 20?
I mean, I guess.
Just so you know, if you're an orphan, I'm interested.
Are you over here making money off of me, you wolves of Wall Street?
You're just taking advantage of drunk people to stay Patty's tradition, like corned beef or punching a cop.
Well, then maybe you can get them to take advantage of me.
Gets a little hansy on hansy.
I've got my eye on that buxom paralegal.
The one over there who brought in outside chicken?
Cook Daddy up.
So I'm going up to the woman who brought her own two liter of Coke to a bar to ask her for money to touch you.
That's the gist.
What's happened to my life?
Where am I?
Blarney's.
Oh, God, it's Blarneyville.
Hey, that's my name.
Let me kiss.
Oh, well, I don't...
I have to go to the ladies' room and wash whatever is on my mouth and in my mouth, off my mouth and out of my mouth.
And Andy, just know that even though it didn't work out, I do glove you.
I glove you too.
Now get the cupcakes out before they burn.
I don't have the energy to do this all again.
Ah, there's the girl I broke up with.
Everything's ready to go out there.
I've had my hands in more boxes tonight than a gynecologist at a free clinic.
It's not that funny.
Stay up another 27 hours.
It'll be the funniest damn thing you ever heard.
Well, that's the end of it.
Yeah, I think it is.
Max, I'm talking about more than the cupcakes.
Yeah, I could tell by your Bradley Cooper tone.
So what, it's not gonna work out between you two?
No.
And I think we have to break up.
I thought you already broke up.
No, I'm talking about you and me.
You're dumping me?
Wow, last guy who dumped me, I burned down his house and moved.
You still want to continue this conversation?
Max, it wouldn't work.
I would always be asking you about Caroline.
Look, I get it.
It's weird.
People don't usually stay friends with their friend's ex, but then don't usually become friends with dolphins.
But sometimes, for no apparent reason, it happens.
Yeah, I just wish I was as grown up as a cat or a dolphin.
I hear you.
So what's next, breakup text?
Nah, that's just gonna lead to makeup text, and then we're back in a vicious cycle.
All right, I'll just stop by your place pick up my CDs, my T-shirts and the three grand I left there.
Max, you've never been to my place.
See, this is why I'm breaking up with you.
You're a liar.
See you in small claims court, bub.
Nice shirt, nerd.
Ooh, nice shirt.
Thanks, Mr. B. Any love for my shirt?
Feels desperate.
Hey, where's Max?
A bunch of us are going to Chili's after class.
Max is sick, but I'm totally free.
Reservations only for ten.
But Max isn't here, so I can take her spot.
You'd think.
What's that?
Oh, this is my emotional support doll.
I brush her hair, and it calms me down.
I'm not insane.
Hey, I've been saying that for 30 years.
All right, kitties.
I need 10 drinks in 10 minutes.
Or as a blacked out me once said, let's get this started party.
I can't.
Max, are you there?
Can you see the setup?
I see you and Julie both shop at Tommy Bob Brown Nose.
Care for a cinnamon stick in your cocoa?
Never mind, a millipede carried it off.
How's school?
Did anybody ask about me?
Tell Keith what's up.
And tell Dave what's up, but not in front of Keith.
Max, focus.
The first drink I have to make is a Negroni.
And I'll tell you how to make it as soon as you relay a message to Jeff that goes a lot like this.
What's up?
Max says, what's up?
What's up?
OK, I'm listening.
Gin no, that's not gin.
Did you even go to kindergarten?
It's the one right next to it got it?
Wow, i am really cheating.
I am such a bad girl.
Here we go.
Hot cocoa, han style, complete with a frothy marshmallow layer.
Oh, marshmallows and marshmallows.
Got it?
No no, not you.
I was talking to swiss miss over here.
Man, you were acting crazier than me when I was stalking Tom Hanks.
It's OK.
It's OK.
It spilled all over the book.
I can't read a thing.
How is this OK?
Because that was your cocoa.
Mm.
How do you like your girl Swiss Miss now?
You better grab something to dry this book off.
Book off?
Is that a vodka?
I'm panicking.
I'm going to fail.
Oh, cheating on a bartending test?
I'm gonna tell you the same thing I told the situation.
You take it on back to Jersey.
Good one, Mr. B. Oh, thanks, Julie.
I am so sorry, Mr. Bronski.
Please don't fail me.
I'll do anything.
But nothing sexual.
I mean, after all, it's just bartending school.
Take this doll with me.
She's gonna be our tenth at Chili's.
Hey, Mr. B, what's up?
Hi, Max.
Hey, how'd it go?
Well, according to my father's lawyer, the prison is surrounded by so much press that Daddy doesn't want me to come out there and be exploited all over again.
Why is he still the only news story out there?
Well, the good news is your hair is especially shiny today.
It is?
Thanks, Sophie.
So try not to kill yourself.
Well, if I didn't kill myself reading these in the car, I won't.
Hate mail.
It was being held at my old P.O. box.
My father's lawyer picked it up for me.
Why didn't he just punch you in the face and call it a day?
I know.
It's like the end of Miracle on 34th Street, only everyone's calling me a bitch.
Oh, come on.
Not everyone is calling you a bitch.
Dear bitch, I hate you.
If I ever see you on the street, I will...
Shake your hand and wish you well as you have been through so very much.
That is not what that says.
It might be.
It's hard to read his actual words as they're written in blood.
Oh, look how fancy.
This is not hate mail.
No, this is invitation to Metropolitan Museum Annual Gala.
It is?
This is my favorite social event in all of New York.
I've gone every year since I was 18.
It's a fashion ball at the Museum of Art.
Yeah, I know what it is.
I catered it last year.
Alex, how weird.
We were probably right in the very same room.
Then there's a good chance I spit in your drink.
Not really, unless you were acting all prissy and demanding.
There's a good chance I spit in your drink.
See?
This is happy news.
No, as much as I want to, I can't go.
Everybody hates me.
And much worse, I have nothing to wear.
And if you're gonna be hated, you better look damn good.
I give up.
That invitation finally broke me.
Why are you pulling down your bed?
Because I don't have a door to slam.
Hell, I don't even have a door.
Everything's been taken away, Max.
My fortune, my business career, my social life, my sweet, sweet horse.
Okay, take a nap.
You're upset.
You have a good reason to be.
A good reason?
I say she has two 300 good reasons.
I mean, read these.
These are like letters to the devil.
I'm just gonna get in there and never get out.
Close it up, Max.
Put me in the wall.
No.
It's really hard to close it when you're in there.
I've tried.
Look, I know it's not even remotely close to what you had before, but we do have our cupcake business and our purple stove.
And we do have $922.
And we're going to make it.
Wall me.
Come on.
All you need is a big glamorous party.
Look at all the celebrities that are on the list.
Martha Stewart, Justin Timberlake.
Oh, Hugh Jackman.
Oh, I like to call him Huge Jackman because I bet she has a big penis.
Well, me.
Oh, Max, I can tell by your sassy demeanor you haven't seen your photo yet.
I didn't bounce any checks here.
Yep, that's me all right.
I recognize that I don't care pout and the Thousand Island dressing in my hair.
Max, just because you're hanging on a wall among the poorest, most lost souls in our city doesn't mean that your life is.
I'm hanging right behind me, aren't I?
Oh, my God.
It could be worse.
You could be naked.
This is worse than being naked.
I'm wearing polyester.
It's bad enough I'm a waitress in Brooklyn.
Now I'm a waitress in Manhattan, and these guys didn't even tip.
Oh, it's a photograph, so it's more symbolic.
It's called waitress, and I'm holding a check pad.
What do all these blue dots mean?
Is my picture in trouble?
That's how many times your print has been purchased.
Over here, Max.
Away from that pathetic blonde lady in the waitress uniform.
Well, you relax.
No one even recognized you.
No one?
What about that art critic who said that my smile in the photo was a study of tragic, foolish optimism in a hopeless, dead-end life?
Oh, him.
Hopeless, dead-end life, and then worse, no one buys me?
I'm not even as success as a failure?
You're totally as success as a failure.
And where are all the blue dots, Max?
15 people bought you.
Whatever you do, don't turn around.
Look at these dots.
I am going home with all these people.
Men, women, black, white.
It's like a key party at Joe Davis' house in the 70s.
Shecky, are you putting a dot by your friend's photo?
Uh, how many extra croutons can you buy with the buttload of money you're making from these photos?
A buttload.
Okay, I get it.
You're mad.
Tell you what.
I will give you a free print of your photo.
Look, keep the photo.
I don't want a picture of me marrying ketchups.
I don't want a picture of me marrying anybody.
But you can pay me back another way.
I told you, I'm not a lesbian.
I just wear hats.
Your friend says you hate your photo.
No.
I enjoy being secretly photographed while I'm stealing someone extra, extra croutons.
For the record, I never saw your smile as foolish.
I saw it as just a little big.
I'm trying to pay you a compliment.
Well, you failed.
All this time, when you looked at me, I thought you saw something special, but all you really saw was someone reading the specials.
I have a question for you.
Okay, fine.
I wear the derby because I have a little bit of a bald spot.
Why didn't I sell?
The picture sucks.
It wore my worst.
If you're still trying to give me a compliment, you're still failing.
Look, a good photograph captures the truth.
And I guess no one really believes you as a waitress.
That is the single nicest thing anyone's ever said to me.
So it's not where you want to be.
I get it.
Look, it's taken me 50 years to be where I am.
And you are still so young. is the second nicest thing anyone's ever said to me.
The road is long.
And trust me, it can be really hard.
So whatever you do, you hold on to that foolishly hopeful smile.
And your funny friend.
Yes?
