Men Get Strong

You're the Worst 3×4

Gretchen: Okay, seriously, dude. I think you might have a drinking problem. Like, you need to go to church basements and shit.

Gretchen: Jimmy! You do not need to steal blow jobs.
Jimmy: Yeah, but you know how amazing free food tastes.

Jimmy: What's happening? Is Lindsay processing thought? ....
Gretchen: Shh, shh, shh, shh, shh, shh. Oh, my God, she's doing it.

Jimmy: Edgar?.. Big writing day ahead of me. I need you to get all my usual writing snacks from the British specialty store. Shrimp-flavored crisps, Wallenger's choco-knockers, tartar biscuits, and then all your standard candies... Lemingtons, Fluffingtons, Rum Christophers, salted licorice knib knobs.

Justina: I'm not mad, Felix... No, and when you constantly accuse me of being mad, you deny my right of actually being goddamn mad at you!... No, I'm not "therapizing" you, all right?

Gretchen: You really need to cry, Jimmy. My therapist says it's very...
Jimmy: Gretchen the sheer breadth of my labyrinthian abstruse psychological composition cannot possibly be second-handedly grasped by some Long Beach Community College graduate who deals with the... tragically maladroit all day. No offense.
Gretchen: None taken, because I do not know that word. Just give me the afternoon. We'll do some super-sad shit, you'll poop out some tears and we'll be home by Wheel...
Jimmy: ...of Fortune!

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Max:You never say "thank you."
Jimmy: That's what the money's for!

Lindsay: You're so accident-prone. You turned into my knife, and it's taken, like, forever for your skin to grow back together.
Paul: You mean heal?
Lindsay: Dogs heel, Paul. Men get strong.

Jimmy: Usually, I'm a master of all art forms... writing, music, quips, mixed media collage... but, for some reason, I am creatively blocked... A sun wearing sunglasses... Doesn't even make sense! He's too bright for his own eyes?

Jimmy: Well, Gretchen, you did it. I can't think of a place more gloomy, more soul-crushing, more quintessentially England.
Gretchen: Yeah, I thought you might want a wee English breakfast!

Jimmy: Are you being Ronny?
Gretchen: Today's been all abstract. It's time to personalize it. I even boned up on some British slang online... Blarmy! Knob jockeys getting married?! Next thing you know, some ringburner's gonna want to shag and marry his dachshund!

Jimmy: It's amazing. I was smelling the jacket that Dad left and it smelled exactly like him. Just cigarettes, ale, beans, occupational failure...

Jimmy: I'm gonna get rid of everything that smacks of Ronny Overly. May he rest in relative peace for someone of his arterial calcification.

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