ADULT ADAM: Back in the '80s, America got in shape,
and that meant getting fit and eating right.
So every chef started becoming health-conscious,
except Chef Beverly Goldberg.
For my growing schmoopaloo, my famous lasagna burger bomb.
Wow! I can't believe no one's ever thought
to use lasagna as a bun before.
She was always inventing new caloric cuisine.
For Pops, my triple-meat ziti surprise.
And the surprise is,
the lamb really brings out the beef and chicken.
But that was nothing compared to what she made my dad.
And for my handsome man of the house,
salad made just the way you like it...
A deli tray of cold cuts and cheeses, zero veggies,
served in a bowl of buttermilk ranch.
You see? Salads don't have to be boring.
That is, by definition, not a salad. Words have meaning!
Yeah, my mom's cookbook chronicled some of
the least-healthy recipes known to man.
Strangely, no publishers wanted it.
These rejection letters are so hurtful and specific.
"A dietary Vietnam"? "Pure poison"?
"A culinary kick to the crotch!"
On the bright side, getting mail is fun.
And these are from the crappy, independent publishers
that make nonsense like textbooks
and Bibles for children.
ADULT ADAM: Still, all those "no"s didn't diminish her love of cooking.
Or our love of eating.
And save room for dessert, 'cause Mama made her signature
upside-down chocolate peanut butter cheesecake.
There's no top or bottom to it,
so I'm just going right for the middle.
You know, Dave Kim's family
all go for a walk after dinner.
If you can walk afterwards, you're doing it wrong.
(TELEPHONE RINGS)
Talk fast,
I got a flip-flopped cake coming my way.
Cookbook publisher?
We don't need any books! We're a TV household!
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.
Hi. It's Beverly Goldberg.
Harrison Whitby of Whitby and Sons Publishing.
No relation.
I'm calling about your cookbook.
Everybody shut up right now.
But nobody's saying anything.
I will drown you in that damn cake
if you don't shut your dumb, fat mouth!
(CALMLY) How can I help you, Mr. Whitby?
I think I can help you.
You see, every cookbook that comes across my desk
is low-fat this, no-sugar that.
But yours...
Yours is not concerned with health in any way.
Well, that's because I disregard
the most basic dietary guidelines.
And that's exactly why I want to publish it.
(HUSHED) Holy (BLEEP), Holy (BLEEP), Holy (BLEEP).
(CALMLY) That's nice news.
I just need a little rewrite.
You want me to add more lard, butter, and salt to the recipes?
Uh, it'll kill people, but I'll do it.
No. I just need the stories behind the recipes.
Tell me where they came from. Make it personal.
Oh, I can do that.
People are always telling me,
"I know way too much about you!"
Beautiful. No rush.
Just get it to me in 48 hours.
Bevy, who was that?
Destiny.
How the hell did she get this number?
They're gonna publish my cookbook!
Oh, how about that?
Anything is possible!
I deserve everything that's coming to me.
You really do, Bevy.
I'll make sure to save a spot on my bookshelf.
Ooh, that's a good idea. I need to make some room, too.
I'm an author!
* I'm twisted up inside
* But nonetheless, I feel the need to say
* I don't know the future
* But the past keeps getting clearer every day *
ADULT ADAM: It was December 4th, 1980-something.
Barry and Erica were college roommates,
and it was amazing...
How little they got along.
You are an idiot! And I'm talking medically.
How dare you? I'm pre-med.
I'd be the first to know if I was an idiot.
Then where are the car keys?
'Cause they're supposed to be on that hook right there.
Oh, you mean my back-scratchin' hook?
Works better when the keys don't rip up my shoulder meat.
(SIGHS)
There you go.
You did it, Hooky. You did it.
ADULT ADAM: Yep, they'd lived together their whole lives,
but sharing a dorm room was a whole different story.
Did you eat my ramen?
Yeah. I didn't want to walk to the caf,
so I snagged one of your hot and spicy beefs.
But that's my feast from the East!
And you should probably know that I also
drained your last Mountain Dew.
My morning Dew?
That's how I rev up for the day!
Do you have any respect for society's norms?
Somehow they'd managed to keep it civil the whole semester...
Until one fateful night.
Oh, my God, Big Tasty!
You're destroying the world record in 110-meter hurdles!
He's the Carl Lewis of pressing red and blue buttons
with his feet! It's happening!
Big Tasty's gonna finally take the gol... No!
Oopsy, was this thing connected to that?
My bad. Get out.
Yeah, okay. Sorry.
Whoa! JTP, you do not have to listen to her.
Actually, Tasty, we do.
It's the law of older siblings...
They get the final say on everything.
That's not a law.
I would know.
Could've been the son of a lawyer. It is.
Thanks to my older bro, I'm always the one who dealt it,
regardless of who smelt it.
And my older sister decided to take my room.
So now I sleep on the couch.
Why not take her old room?
And have her take it back?
(CHUCKLING) No. I'm not jumping on that carousel.
My sister gets priority on all my mom's love and affection.
No one cares about your tragic home life, Matt Bradley.
I want to run on a plastic mat!
Well, we all have stories.
I'll get the door for you.
JTP, I demand you stay.
Sorry, Tasty. Big sis rules.
Behind this smile is pain.
Don't worry, Bar. I'm staying.
A man of courage.
Oh, you misread that. I-I'm not here for you.
I-I get to stay because it's Erica's will.
This is not fair!
We're both freshmen!
We're technically equals!
He does have a point, angelface.
Whoa, whoa, whose side are you on, Schwartz?
Sorry, Big Tasty. Erica's threatening tone was new information.
Geoffrey "Mad Man" Schwartz,
how many times have I saved your life?
None?
I would've if you weren't so boring and risk-averse.
I'm not comfortable being in the middle of this.
You will be in the middle of this. It's decided.
As a neutral third party, you will establish
a system of rules to stop our petty squabbling.
That sounds like a nightmare!
I'm good with it. But just remember who hugs and kisses you.
Oh, well, there's plenty of that to go around.
Come on!
Get in there. Come in.
Doing all the work. Come on. My guy.
ADULT ADAM: As Geoff was caught in the middle of Barry and Erica,
my mom was at the end of her big rewrite.
Schmoo, feast your delicious boy eyes
on 400 pages of scrumptious family history.
Wow, this has...
So many words.
Most not about food.
And who is that sturdy fella?
That's your great-aunt Esther.
Why two eye patches?
This is a funny story.
Uh, she was dragged by a horse through the town.
That is funny.
(LAUGHING) Until the reins finally got stuck
in a tree branch, and the horse fell on top of her.
(CHUCKLES)
So, of course, they shot it.
And why would you put that in a book about food?
Because the next day, she made a delicious horse stew.
I changed it to lamb because some people can be stuffy.
And she must've had to make a lot since she had 14 kids.
No, no. As I indicated here next to the ingredients,
uh, only six of them lived.
(EXHALES SHARPLY)
Disease, war, winter, famine.
Seven of them were just stomped to death.
And you put that right here in a book about food.
So, you clearly know what you're doing.
Would you mind reading the whole thing,
and telling me what you think before I send it in?
I think I get it.
A horse drags a lady,
pancake dippers, a cousin gets stomped.
You got yourself a winner, lady.
This is the only publisher who's shown any interest,
and if he doesn't like it, I don't know what I'll do.
I guess I could...
Thank you.
ADULT ADAM: While I was dragged like Aunt Esther
into reading my mom's cookbook,
Geoff was pulled between Barry and Erica.
Okay, so you're both holding the binders
that I stayed up all night creating
with the guidelines in order to keep this room safe and fun.
These are so stupid. And I want the blue one.
You'll find it details solutions to all of your living issues.
Oh, so many words and tabs!
Just tell your loudmouth girlfriend to stop being so bossy.
I will punch your head while you sleep.
Joke's on you. My skull is crazy-jacked.
Guys, no punching... Asleep or otherwise.
In here, you'll find clear instructions on how to share everything.
Like the mini-fridge. No way.
I promised my perishables a safe haven.
You put your sheets in there.
You know I run hot!
It's the dead of winter, barfbag!
You should really get your circulation checked.
Already did.
It's a trouble area, like you.
Enough. Consult your binders. I'm not your referee.
Wait, that's it.
You're our referee... Our Geoff-er-ee.
It works 'cause it's your name and also your new job.
I'm not staying here full-time to mediate every fight,
conflict, or disagreement.
It would work better than these crappy binders.
Yeah. Swing and a miss, hon.
You didn't even open them.
We've moved on from your embarrassing binders.
You should, too. You know us.
We can't be trusted to follow the rules.
And every moment is touch-and-go with me.
And I'm no day at the beach, either.
I-I know I don't have a lot going on...
Like nothing. I'm secretly worried.
Then it's settled.
Geoffrey will be the arbiter of everything that happens within these seven walls.
Seven? And it starts now!
Excuse me while I clip my angry, jagged toenails on Erica's bed.
Geoff-er-ee?
Bar, maybe that's a bathroom task?
Hmm. That's an interesting fix.
Thanks, Geoff-er-ee.
Wow. You are really making up for that binder fiasco.
ADULT ADAM: As Geoff was playing referee,
I was looking for some coaching
on how to deal with my mom's cookbook.
Dude, your mom's book is a horror show!
I know, Dave Kim.
So much tragedy has befallen your people.
I can't un-read these things, man! I'm different now.
I know, Dave Kim.
How are you gonna tell her she can't submit this?
I don't know, Dave Kim!
I just need to find some way to break it to her
so she doesn't hate me when I destroy her dream!
ADULT ADAM: Yep, I had no idea what I'd tell my mom,
until I saw Doc Katman give a master class in bad news.
Johnny, I just want to say Rush rules, and so do you.
True, and true.
You're a good dude, dude.
So are you, Johnny.
But that said, you haven't turned in
one assignment all semester, so...
You're going to flunk again.
Oh, no! The wind's out of my sails!
Luckily, you're a badass, so you can take it.
Whoa. You just devastated me with your words,
but I feel great about it!
Thanks, Doc Whoever-You-Are!
Hmm. Doc, I don't get it.
You gave Johnny Atkins life-destroying news,
and he thanked you for it. How?
It's all about the compliment sandwich.
Compliment sandwich?
You simply wedge your criticism, AKA the meat,
in between two compliments, AKA the bread.
ADULT ADAM: Yes! That was the answer!
Now, I just had to make my mom a compliment sandwich.
There he is! Gah!
Were you just waiting for me at the door?
Well, yes, but only for hours.
Now, tell me, tell me, tell me how much you loved it.
I'll start you off.
"It was perfect."
I-I hear people saying that... Like you, right now.
(CHUCKLES)
And I also want to add... You did it, girl.
(CHUCKLES) Yeah, well, what about my writing, my stories?
Were they everything you thought, and more?
Oh, so much more.
You did it, girl! You said that already. Get to it.
ADULT ADAM: Well, I had given her the top slice of bread.
I guess it was time for the meat.
I hated it hard.
Change every word.
Excuse me?
But wait, before you get upset...
(STAMMERS)
You did it, girl.
What are you saying to me?
Oh, balls! My sandwich sucked!
I cooked you in my lady kitchen.
You were my greatest dish, and this is how you treat me?
I wasn't really thinking about your lady kitchen
when I was reading your lousy book.
(GASPS) Gasp of gasps!
I have clearly failed as a mother!
And as a cookbook author.
I just want you to know that what you have done to me is worse than any horse stomp.
Because I still have eyes to see
how my beautiful boy betrayed me.
ADULT ADAM: She hated the sandwich,
so I tried one more slice of bread.
But...you did it, girl?
ADULT ADAM: Barry and Erica had a new tool to help them coexist.
Moron, where are the car keys?
And that tool was Geoff.
They're right here. Erica, I made you your own set.
And, Barry, I attached your keys to this cumbersome hunk of wood
that I painted in Flyers colors.
Sick!
It's like an orange nunchuck that starts my car.
Whoa. You're killing it, Geoff-er-ee.
ADULT ADAM: Yep, having a Geoff-er-ee fixed everything...
Until three hours later.
Ooh! Oh!
What the hell? Yeah.
Why are they here?
'Cause our Geoff-er-ee ruled that it was my JTP night.
But why did he allow you to throw deadly lawn darts in the wall?
The lawn darts were actually a compromise.
We started with a fireman's axe.
There's one on every floor.
Whatever. Everyone leave. It's after midnight.
Nuh-uh! Night only starts when I sleep.
Geoff-er-ee, you're supposed to be preventing
this kind of stupidity.
Sure, it's my fault for not clearly defining day and night.
Actually, I need to be at the Gap early anyway
to add a new level to the jean wall.
And if I don't get 12 to 14 hours of shut-eye, I am a wreck.
I think you're struggling with seasonal depression, bro.
For sure. Now everyone shut up.
You're not going anywhere till you see Mr. Sun.
Fine. You want the room? Then I get the car tomorrow.
What? It's my car day!
I was gonna do fishtails in the ShopRite parking lot!
Geoff-er-ee, throw a flag.
Again, my fault for assuming you two would demonstrate
the most basic courtesy to each other.
Fine! Take the car.
I'm taking the computer.
Uh-uh! I have a paper due tomorrow!
That you're gonna have to write by hand.
No! Geoff, do something.
Bar, the computer's supposed to be for doing actual work,
not to hug vindictively
so as to prevent someone else from using it.
Well, you never specified that.
He got me. I never explicitly said "no computer cuddling."
Gah! I'll be at the stupid library!
(SHOUTS)
(LAUGHS)
She walked out, and you almost died.
It's probably good we didn't use the axe.
ADULT ADAM: While Barry and Erica were pushing Geoff to his limits,
there was no limit to how pushy my mom could be about her book.
Hey! We're watching The Equalizer.
Now we'll never know if things were equalized!
After receiving mixed reviews on my masterwork,
which I took graciously, I am now seeking feedback
that's not the demented ramblings of a jealous teenager.
Yeah, good stuff.
If you could just shimmy to the left a little,
then the remote can do what it does.
I need you to read it and tell me what you think.
Why us?
Well, you're my father, and you'd never lie to me.
And Murray will give me an honest opinion
'cause he lacks the filter necessary for polite society.
You make a fair point.
We'll read your overwhelming book.
ADULT ADAM: And read they did...
Page after page of dour tales
and unappetizing family history.
My mom couldn't wait to hear what they had to say.
Stunned silence is always a good sign.
But I need to hear how much you liked it.
I liked the part where it ended.
Oh, poo, you're just being an old grump. Dad?
There's no place for an amputation story
in a chicken piccata recipe.
Oh, no. Was Adam right?
Maybe he's not a teenage butt stain.
That sounds right.
Now, if you just scooch to your left
and then crouch down really tiny, we're back in business.
ADULT ADAM: My mom finally got that her cookbook wasn't great,
so she brought me an apology that was.
Schmoopy, I made your favorite...
Ooey-gooey marshmallow cookie bars.
Wait, you made me cookie bars after I told you
your life's work was a smelly garbage fire?
You never said those words.
Out loud.
(SIGHS) Well, it has come to my attention that you may be right.
My cookbook might be a tad heavy on death,
despair, and religious persecution.
And there was more animal violence than I expected.
It's just my publisher really wanted me
to lean into the history of my food,
but that history is pretty damn dark.
But this cookie doesn't have a dark history to me.
Every time I felt down,
you'd make me a pan of these, and I always felt better.
You did?
And I think that's what your publisher wants...
Stories about this family.
And no matter what our day is like, when you cook,
we always find happiness on our plates and in our hearts.
(GROANS) Write that!
Write that. Write that.
Aah, write it!
No way! I wouldn't know the first thing about writing a cookbook.
You're so good at putting emotion
into your movies. Just do that.
I suppose I do know how to tug at the heartstrings in many mediums.
Do your thing. Tug away.
And it has to be done by tomorrow at 8:00.
ADULT ADAM: While I got roped into being my mom's ghost writer,
Barry and Erica had written some new rules of their own.
Whoa!
Behold, Geoffrey, our elegant tape solution.
We had to take matters into our own hands
because you failed miserably as a Geoff-er-ee.
So, you split the room with masking tape, like on I Love Lucy.
And super smart shows like Brady Bunch and The Munsters.
One teeny problem... The door's on Erica's side.
By choice, bro!
I'll use my ninja skills to scale the building
and enter through a window.
And after he falls and dislocates his head, the room will be mine.
See, Geoffrey, we didn't need you or your pathetic binders.
We just needed a roll of this.
Check it. I'm Erica.
I will put that over your mouth while you sleep.
Then my ghost will haunt you
by farting directly into your pillow,
much like I do in the realm of the living.
What? I hate you!
She's hitting me, Geoff!
Stay over there! Do something!
This is all your fault, Geoff! Enough!
What is wrong with you? BOTH: Me?
I get it. You're siblings.
You're not meant to be college roommates.
But what's worse than the way you treat each other is how you treat me.
Let that stupid tape solve all your problems from now on.
I'm done.
ADULT ADAM: As Geoff laid down the law,
the verdict was in on my draft of my mom's cookbook.
I love it. Oh, I knew it!
Beverly Goldberg is gonna be a household name.
Beverly Goldberg?
Oh, no, I'm reading the wrong book.
Oh, your book. Your book is crap.
What? But I took out all the blood and historical tragedy!
I don't know what that means.
But this right here feels like it was written
by a sappy, sheltered simpleton.
Ouch. Kind of harsh.
Okay, who are you?
Her hyper-sensitive son who takes her setbacks personally.
What was wrong with it?
It's a schmaltz fest!
Every word is sappy and cloying.
And why do all the recipes end with a hug?
'Cause it's the obvious emotional resolution the audience is craving.
Damn it, why didn't I stay with the ethnic-cleansing, horse-stompings version?
Because that sounds God-awful, too?
Well, what am I supposed to do?
Do better! You've got 48 hours.
You want me to rewrite that whole thing?
And why 48 hours?
To whip you into a frenzy.
All the best work comes from terror.
Have fun, now.
Mama, I'm so sorry.
I guess I went a little heavy on the hugs.
You were just trying to help.
I know 48 hours isn't long,
but Eddie Murphy and Nick Nolte
did a ton of damage in that time, and so will we.
Adam, it's over.
Why?
I always say "I could have been a lawyer.
"I could have been an author."
But now, I know for sure...
I'm nothing.
ADULT ADAM: After Barry and Erica let their rivalry go too far,
they set aside their differences
to put a very important relationship back together.
If you're here to have me settle another argument, it's not happening.
We're not. We came here to say we're sorry.
You were right.
We spent the last 18 years living together,
and clearly that wasn't meant to extend to college.
You were also right about the way we treated you.
It wasn't great.
The only thing we can agree on is that you're the best.
I appreciate that, but you guys got to figure this out.
Oh, don't worry. I think we did.
(EXHALES DEEPLY) I'm moving out of the dorm,
and into the Jenkintown Posse's Jenkintown Pad.
JTP's JTP!
None of us were loving our living situations.
And we hang out so much together anyway.
Now, we don't have that painful goodbye at the end of each hang.
And this way, we don't have a screechy lady
yelling at us to keep it down.
You get it.
Sort of.
And check out this sick hole.
You can see the wiring and the pipes.
And there's bars on the window
because these party animals have to be caged.
(LAUGHS)
But seriously, no one should come and go after dark.
The floor's not level, either.
Look how this bullet we found rolls.
(LAUGHTER)
I think it's gonna be great.
For all of us.
You know, when you're not my roommate,
you're a pretty good brother.
Not too bad, yourself.
I'm not sure this is the safest...
Shh! Look how happy they are.
ADULT ADAM: While Barry and Erica had closed the book
on living together, I was encouraging my mom
to keep writing her story as a cookbook author.
Adam, I said I was done.
You can't be!
You've always told me my dreams are possible,
so I'm here to tell you the same thing.
I know. But we tried it my way,
and we tried it your way, and neither was good.
But there's another way. We do it together.
You pull back on the horror stories,
and I pull back on the schmaltz,
and then, we meet somewhere in the middle.
You think that would work?
I know it will.
* It's such a pity to say goodbye to you
* Goodbye to you
I'll get the typewriter.
ADULT ADAM: Sometimes, preserving a relationship just means
adjusting the ingredients.
Well, looks like you got this place all to yourself now.
Yeah, I'm thinking about getting a new roommate.
I have someone in mind, but I treated him really crappy.
What are you saying?
I'm saying that,
if you can forgive me for being such a jerk,
I would love if you would move in with me.
Is this really happening?
If you say "yes."
* It's such a pity to say goodbye to you
ADULT ADAM: Sometimes, the answers to all our problems
are right in front of us the whole time.
This is amazing, Mom.
And who knows?
They may even be just a phone call away.
(TELEPHONE RINGS)
Hello.
Oh. Hi, Mr. Whitby.
You read the rewrite?
Oh.
Uh-huh. Okay. Okay.
Well? Tell us.
I'm a (BLEEP) cookbook author!
(SCREAMS)
ADULT ADAM: In the end, you never know what life's gonna cook up for you.
One thing's for sure... The sweetest moments
are even better when the people around you
are there to serve up a hug,
even if it is the obvious emotional resolution.
* Goodbye to you *
**
ADAM: Wow. A lot of food to eat.
Cheggit. My mom sent me one of her famous honey salt pies.
Ooh, smells delish.
Let me rip into a slice.
It's funny that you say "rip," because this recipe
actually comes from my great-great-uncle Harold.
Every limb of his body was ripped off
by an amateur circus bear.
Oh, my God, what?
Yeah, but don't worry. The bear didn't kill him.
He just left him as a stump and a head.
And that's good?
Well, not for what comes next.
He was on top of a hill, and lost control of
his crude homemade body wagon, and he was thrown 100 feet
into a nearby river, and bobbed for six miles.
Luckily, another bear came and finished him off.
Two bears? That's the most horrible thing I've ever heard!
Yeah, it's not great.
But bears like honey, so grab yourself a fork.