So, you had the kids write a poem
and then an essay explaining the literary antecedents of the poem.
Yeah-huh. - That's cool.
I'm really happy with how the kids interpreted the assignment.
What are you doing?
Uh, I just saw a couple things you didn't catch on the essay here.
- Fran, stop. - What?
- Seriously. - What are you doing? Don't... No.
- Why are you crossing that out? - I don't care about that stuff.
That's a misplaced adverb.
Yeah, I told them to just really focus on creativity
in this assignment and let everything else go.
But that's not proper English.
Yeah, and they can focus on proper English in another assignment.
I appreciate your creative approach with these kids,
but I know them, okay?
And they need a bit of a push to be more rigorous,
so, sorry, but I just want to make sure everyone learns the right thing, you know?
You and, uh, "Mail Brown."
It's Maile, it's Gaelic.
She doesn't like it when people call her "Mail."
It embarrasses her.
Wow, this is an abomination.
- Fran, I really don't want you to do this. - I'm sorry.
That one I thought you wouldn't mind my correcting.
I mind all of it, okay? I mind every bit of it.
All right, there's one more. Can I please... There's one more.
- No, no, no. - Can I please...
- It's one... - Oh, my God!
Hey, Frank.
Hey, Adele.
What?
You know, I have tried to be a responsible and warmhearted neighbor to you, Marnie,
and, truthfully, it hasn't always been easy.
Uh, okay.
I just wish you and your boyfriend
could extend the same courtesy of spirit and action to me.
Well, actually, he's my husband now, so...
Whatever.
What?
Oh, my God.
- Desi? - Yeah?
Desi! Hello?
Marn, ciao, bella.
How you doing?
Uh, what the fuck is this?
Oh. Guys, let's take... Let's take five!
- Let's take a break. Hey. - Hi.
I thought you were getting back from your mom's tomorrow.
Well, uh, no, she... She got back together with her boyfriend.
She didn't need me anymore. What the fuck is...
- Bryce? - Yeah.
What the fuck is going on?
Well, fuck, I was hoping we were gonna be a little further along when you came home,
but surprise.
Welcome to your new one-bedroom apartment.
Oh, my God.
Walk with me, if you will, into your bedroom.
Okay, imagine, if you would, right.
- Sunday morning... - Oh, my God.
...you're lying in bed browsing podcasts.
Meanwhile, on the other side of this wall,
unbeknownst to you, guess who's in the studio/kitchen
practicing fingerpicking and making you chilaquiles.
Come on, you know how you're always talking about how we need more space.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. I definitely said I wanted more space.
And yet, somehow now I have less space because there's a giant fucking wall
in the middle of my apartment.
Well, yes, if you think about it in terms of technical square footage...
- Yeah. - ...then you are correct,
but we will have more privacy,
which is what you meant when you said more space.
No, it's not.
I literally meant that I needed more space.
How much is this gonna cost us?
Like, nothing. I mean, nothing. We're getting a seriously good deal.
I mean, the wall pretty much pays for itself.
Okay, how?
Okay, well, you know how you always go into the coffee shop to work
and you have to keep buying tea so that they don't kick you out?
Well, that costs a lot of money, Marn.
Actually, three grand a year.
So in a little more than a year, this will be all paid off.
- That is insane. - Don't call me insane.
You know my mother used to call me insane.
I did not call you insane. I said, "That is insane."
What is this? This is a crazy tiny little shelf. What the fuck do you put on this shelf?
Excuse me.
- That's a custom shelf. - Oh.
For my Ray Bradbury Digest Collection.
Oh, my God. I see how it is.
- What? - This is all for you.
This is all for fuckin' you.
No, Marnie, this is all for you!
Actually, all I have is a teensy fucking tiny Digest shelf.
No, you do what you want, when you want, how you wanna do it,
and it's like I don't even fucking exist.
- Excuse me. - Have you seen...
No, you're good, bro, you're good.
Are you kidding me? You're gonna walk out?
Yeah.
Keep walking.
Man.
This is no reflection on your work, all right?
I pushed that double stroller for two miles up a fucking hill.
The twins were crying and I just...
I told them to shut up because I was concentrating on not having a drink.
I hate motherhood.
I know I'm supposed to love it, but I don't.
It's so fucking boring.
My kids are a year and a half. They can't even speak English yet.
Oh, this is a women's meeting.
Oh, no. Uh, sorry.
Okay, I'll wait till you go.
Oh, fucker, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Fuck.
So, um, I'm still breast-feeding, not by choice.
- Hey. - Hi.
You don't usually go to this meeting.
What, are you stalking me? Seriously, chill.
I was in the neighborhood.
Since when are you ever in fucking Tribeca?
The only reason to come here is to pickpocket a yuppie.
Oh, yeah, by the way, here you go.
Practicing for an audition.
You didn't.
This is yours.
Someone told me you're only going to women's meetings.
Yeah, I need sisterhood.
Yeah, well, these are meetings I can't go to.
And you're not returning any of my texts.
They're barely sentences. "You need eat"? What... That doesn't even make any sense.
Why the fuck are you avoiding me?
Because it's a horrid idea
and because I'm focused on my studies and because you smell like ham.
Oh, and you fuckin' love it.
And because of Hannah.
- I'm sorry. I'm so... - Oh, fuckin' balls!
You know she wouldn't do the same thing if she was in your position.
She'd just throw herself right at whatever she wanted.
Unlike you. You're a pussy.
I didn't say I liked her.
That's how I got pregnant, so, careful.
Look at them over there.
Crawling over each other for a chance to sip that million-dollar lidless coffee.
While in here, my world is crumbling.
Silently, relentlessly crumbling.
Excuse me, sir, would you like another scone?
Sir?
Gonna throw them out anyway.
Do you even care?
Do you give one flying fuck about my economic decimation?
Yeah, a little.
A little.
Spiritually, how am I supposed to negotiate
with a society that rewards those shaggy-haired dickholes?
Tell me.
'Cause I can't. I don't know how to.
You know...
What the fuck are you doing?
I'm trying to see if there's hair on my lower back.
I feel like there is, but it's very... It's very subtle.
Let me take a look.
Wow. It's like a baby's bottom. Very smooth. You wax?
No, never. Just very lucky.
Yeah, my lower back tends to get a little bushy
if I neglect to prune it.
Well, you just never know when new hair
is gonna start sprouting out of someplace on your body.
- I know. - I mean, you know.
So I can only presume you have a hot date tonight?
Uh, yeah, let's just say that I'd like my lower back to make a good impression.
Who's the lucky guy?
Ray, I'm sorry, but I really shouldn't say.
He's, um... He's quite famous.
Dill Harcourt.
Let's not make a big deal out of this, okay?
I didn't say a word.
It's just gonna be just a very simple, small dinner party at Lattanzi.
What the fuck is that?
Ray, Lattanzi is a very famous Theater District eatery.
It's just very stressful for me because
Dill has so many celebrated and influential friends.
It's hard to say who could be there.
It might be Diane Sawyer, Graydon Carter.
He was texting with Amanda Knox the other day.
Didn't she kill someone?
No.
Maybe.
Patty Clarkson. I saw... I saw them in a magazine once together.
Her friends call her Patty.
Patty Clarkson.
Hey, Maile. What's up?
What happened to my poem?
Does it look weird to you or is it...
There's actually a lot of weird instances where the First Lady and the President
don't even sleep in the same bedroom, which is...
People don't...
Excuse me for one moment.
What the hell? You cannot just interrupt a class like that.
She needs answers.
Come here.
All right.
Do I know you?
Oh. Yeah. Uh...
I really liked your poem.
No, he didn't.
Hannah, this is wildly inappropriate.
Oh, come on, all I did was interrupt your class. It's not that big a deal.
Um, actually, it is.
I think what was inappropriate was what happened last night.
Um, what does this have to do with my poem?
Well, Mr. Parker, aka Fran, aka my boyfriend, didn't like how I was correcting your poem,
so he decided to take it into his own damn hands.
Okay, Mail.
Her name is Maile. Maile.
Hannah was not correcting the grammar
and I thought it was important for you to learn proper English.
Listen, Fran, proper English is a joke.
In 10 years, we're all gonna be robots who speak Chinese, okay?
So why don't you apologize for what you did to this piece of paper?
I didn't rip it.
I may have written some stuff on there, but the rips were all her.
- She did the rips. - He did the rips.
He ripped the shit out of this piece of paper.
I... I really think I should be in my next class.
- Yes. - Oh, you're not going anywhere, missy.
You started this and you'll finish it.
I just wrote a poem and an essay on its literary antecedents like you said to.
Look what you did.
- What I did? - Yeah.
Hannah, you are being too much.
Oh, okay.
Well, for someone who likes corrections so much,
I'm gonna issue a big fat one in your direction.
- Great. - I'm not being too much.
I'm being just enough.
You know what? I have a class I'm supposed to be teaching.
Well, why don't you enjoy with the blood of this child on your hands.
Hey.
Hi.
What you doing?
Oh, nothing. Just hiding from Desi.
Great, 'cause I'm hiding from Fran.
I'm never going back to that apartment.
Guys, you cannot stay here indefinitely. I have so much studying to do.
What you lookin' at?
The Old Loves Tumblr. It's the best.
- Do you know it? - Yeah.
Oh, yeah, that's the old people having sex. I love that one.
Nope, it's just famous people who used to be couples that we all forgot about,
like Val Kilmer and Cher.
They were a really good couple, but she also seemed so much happier
with Rob Camilletti, that bagel boy.
Yeah. I mean, they all look super happy.
Then I guess something just goes wrong.
Maybe nothing went wrong.
Maybe the relationship just lasted for the amount of time it was supposed to.
Maybe all relationships have, like, a finite lifespan,
like Whoopi Goldberg and Ted Danson.
Or Fran and me.
Hannah, I don't even know what's going on with you and Fran,
but I'm assuming he's right.
He actually isn't right.
Well, just work it out because he's a really good guy.
He's actually not a good guy, Marnie. He's a seemingly good guy.
Okay, well, that's a step up.
I mean, Adam didn't even seem like a good guy.
Adam was actually more sane than Fran.
He was just in the body of a psychopath.
Actually, that's not true.
Adam's completely insane. And he's bowlegged.
Just disgusting.
The worst thing about Fran is that he has this prescribed idea
about how I should act in any given situation.
When I don't fulfill his expectations,
he judges me.
- Oh, my God, that's horrible. - Thank you.
No, that's exactly what I'm doing to Desi.
I'm the one building the fucking wall.
I have to go apologize to him.
I don't understand.
Don't break up with Fran, okay?
Or else you're just gonna have to start over with somebody new.
People who work on things stay together.
Otherwise, you're gonna end up alone.
Like Cher.
Can't I end up alone, but not like Cher?
You're already like Cher.
I'm gonna choose to take that as a compliment.
This is one of my favorite places.
- It's very intimate. - Very.
You know, when I was a kid,
I, um... I created a very intimate cocktail lounge in my bedroom
by putting a bulletin board against the wall and squatting underneath it.
It was called Chez Bird.
I was the headliner.
- Every night. - Every night.
I don't know what I'm talking about. I'm very nervous right now. I'm sorry.
You have nothing to be nervous about. Everybody gets nervous.
- I get nervous. - Really?
In second grade, I peed my pants before I had to go onstage.
So the last time you got nervous was 35 years ago?
- Mmm-hmm. - Wow.
I bet you were a cute kid.
Come on, you've seen the pictures.
They're all over the Internet,
especially now that my aunt sold them to pay her Oxy dealer.
I did see a couple in Vanity Fair.
- And ELLEgirl. Mmm-hmm. - Mmm-hmm.
Yeah, there's some good things and some bad things about fame.
I've been forced to assemble a team that can handle the bad.
Dill, are you threatening me?
You try to fuck with me, you're toast.
- I'm just kidding. - Oh.
Sort of.
That was scary.
You keep looking to the door.
Do I?
I'm sorry, I, um...
You know, I thought we were meeting people,
so I sort of had my "I'm meeting people" hat on.
But, um, look, if this is the type of thing where I don't meet your friends...
I could, um... I could be okay with that.
You shouldn't be.
Dill!
- Rob. - Hey. Sorry we're late.
Sit down.
Desi?
Stupid fucking little hammer.
Why do we even have this little hammer?
Because my mom gave it to me my freshman year.
Hey, hey. Do not do this for me.
I'm doing this for me, Marn.
I'm doing this for me.
Desi, I like the wall.
- This fuck... - I do. Hey, hey, hey.
This fucking idea's so fucking stupid.
No, no, it's not. Look, I'm in our bedroom.
This is our bedroom.
It's stupid.
- Hey. - I'm such a fucking idiot.
All my ideas are so fucking stupid.
No, they're not.
You are a brilliant, creative genius, okay?
Seriously.
And if I have ever made you feel otherwise, then that is on me.
- You mean it? - Yeah.
I mean it.
I don't know why, like, I'm trying to impress you all the time.
I feel so fucking insecure.
That's because I pick. I pick at people.
I don't know why I do it. It sucks, but I do.
- No, Marnie, you're... - You're perfect.
No, you're perfect.
You're like this shooting star and I'm a rat in the gutter.
No, you're not.
- Yes, I am. - No.
I love you.
I need you.
- I'm, like, so lost when you go away. - Shh. Shh.
I can't even fucking get this stupid fucking tank top off!
Take your time. Take your time.
- You're okay. - I'm sorry.
Don't worry.
Thanks for coming out with me.
You said you would cut off my hair if I didn't let you take me out for rice pudding.
I just couldn't look at one boring website after another anymore.
- Fluent in French Toast with blessings? - Yeah, that's me.
- Yes. - And I Gotta the Panna Cotta.
- Thanks. - You're welcome.
You're gonna wake up one day
and realize you've wasted your entire life on dumb websites.
You're too late. That already happened.
Your brain is rotting.
You used to have interesting ideas and now all you do is browse the Internet.
Maybe that's why you stopped writing.
That's not a very nice thing to say.
Here you go.
Oh, I'm sorry, we don't take American Express.
Okay, well, that's all I have.
Perfect. I'm taking you out now.
That is perfect. Just perfect. Thank you so much.
Thanks.
Okay, what's going on between us?
Nothing's going on between us, Hannah.
What's going on is that I was trying to study and I couldn't because you didn't want me to.
Because you're jealous that I have a passion,
so, of course, here I am catering to your needs yet again.
Everyone has to drop everything for Hannah when Hannah needs "support."
Why are you being so mean to me?
I'm always mean to you.
Yeah, but usually it's nicer.
Wow. Shorts really seem to be getting shorter these days.
You're acting so weird, okay?
I know you. Something's going on.
I'm fine.
Okay.
Okay, then, maybe we're just growing in different directions.
Maybe you don't want to be friends anymore.
Maybe.
Jessa!
What? I'm just trying to be open.
You know what?
I'm thinking maybe I'm gonna take my Fluent in French Toast on the train.
If I'm gonna hang out with someone who hates me,
it might as well be my boyfriend.
But, seriously, you are the biggest bitch I've ever met in my whole life.
You are a total cunt.
I'm not here!
Hey!
- Hi. - What's up? Come in.
I just... I just came from seeing Hannah and, um...
What happened? What's wrong?
What's wrong is... Is this.
Us.
You're shaking.
I...
I've wanted this for a really long time.
Me, too.
Is that... Yeah, it's fine. It's fine.
Hold on, hold on, wait a sec.
I just need to put my leg...
- You okay? - Yeah, yeah, no, I'm totally good.
I'm just perfect.
Don't do that.
- Sorry. - That's okay.
- No, I like... Like that. - Yeah.
Okay.
Oh, fuck.
Is this what bad sex is like?
Mmm-hmm.
Yes.
- Fuck me. - Yeah.
- Fuck me. - Yeah, I am fucking you.
- Stop talking. - Oh, sorry.
Yeah. Harder.
- Yeah? - Yeah.
Harder.
Okay, faster.
Now slower. Stop, stop, stop.
Now, go, go!
Faster! Okay, slower.
- Slower, then faster. - Okay.
- Slower, then faster. - Wait.
- Stop talking. - Okay.
- Yeah, fuck me! - Sorry!
- Come on! - I'm getting a cramp.
- I'm really sorry. - Fuck me.
- Okay. - Fuck me.
- Yeah. Oh, yeah. - Yeah, yeah.
Are you good?