Crevasses

You're the Worst 2×2

Edgar: Want a pie? I can make you a pie.
Lindsay: Oh, Edgar. You don't have to make me a coconut cream pie. Then you'd have to go to the store for me and also buy me ice cream and tampons why you're there.

Lindsay: I am learning so much from this game...
Gretchen: That the National Air and Space Museum isn't named after some guy named Aaron Space?

Gretchen: It's all right. We're adults. We can do this ourselves... Well, I know it involves vodka and tomato juice.
Jimmy: Well, we have a tomato.
Gretchen: I'm sure that's fine. Celery...
Jimmy: We have carrots.
Gretchen: Same thing, basically.
Jimmy: Mayonnaise?
Gretchen: Yeah.

Jimmy: I'm going for literary inspiration. I'm not finding it here, so maybe I'll find it amongst the diabetic masses of the American shopper. I'm like Thoreau, only the mall shall be my Walden.
Gretchen: Mall-den.
Jimmy: I would've found that eventually.

Lindsay: That's why you need stuff, Gretch. To stake your claim. Get your shit up in those crevasses. Besides, stuff is the best. You can never get lonely with stuff. And there are so many examples of stuff— ice cube trays shaped like high heels. Towels. Smaller towels for your butt. Chairs, which I guess are also for your butt...

Saleswoman: Cart paralysis. It's very common. What do you need to get?

Gretchen: I don't have any stuff except for a food processor and, like, 19 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.

Saleswoman: I'm just gonna leave you with this checklist for college freshmen.

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