I just got a $20 tip on a $10 check.
I may be the greatest waitress ever and strangely that doesn't make me want to die.
You're finally getting the hang of a job you've had for years.
Is your last name Obama? Another big tip.
I think it's my smile.
Well, something's smiling.
Pickup Patty melt.
Correction, panty melt.
- Caroline you have - What Max? Pride in a job well done.
Yes, some of us can still feel pride.
Yeah for another 10 seconds.
Caroline This reminds me when I saw my mother's side boob.
Max, you have to say something.
Caroline! Hey, look, I just got a $10 tip from this guy and I spilled coffee on his face.
Screw it, I'm taking the ab-straining money tab.
Nope, not wearing underwear.
I know it's technically good to have a big order, but I am five cupcakes away from what professional doctors call T.
Rex arm.
Like you always tell me use your other hand.
It'll feel like a stranger.
And how about our new business labels and my ability to be excited about literally anything? I got them with the money you were saving for that Porky Pig bong.
But when it's down to just resin, it says, "That's all, folks.
" I'll pay you back as soon as we get the money for this big order for L? Max, someone named L ordered these cupcakes? Oh, that's not an L; that's an I.
Sorry, I learned printing mostly from ransom notes.
I? I mean, what kind of person would just be named I? This kind.
Hello.
That's my order.
Yes, they're just about ready, mis ter I'll spare you the stress and confusion, dear, because I can tell by the size of your pores, you're a sweater.
She is.
Sometimes she gets so nervous watching "America's Next Top Model" our couch is slick for days.
Spoiler alert: none of them are America's next top model.
To be clear, I am neither he nor she, Mr.
nor Mrs.
, male nor female, and the only part of me that's transitioning are my heels from day to evening.
I am simply I, and I cannot be labeled.
I am gender fluid.
That's cool.
As long as none of it gets on us.
Is my order ready, or do I have to wade through more of this poor man's Amy and Tina? I like to think of us more as an Ike and Tina.
I'm just finishing boxing them up for you.
It's okay for cupcakes to still be put in a box, right? Just not people.
I'm using your cupcakes in some performance art.
See, I is a performance artist this month.
Last month, I was working at the Cold Stone Creamery on 8th Street.
Well, I've had sex there.
Yes, well, who hasn't? The audience will bite into one of your pretty, pink, femme-looking cupcakes, only to discover that I have inserted a cocktail weenie inside.
But who wants to be surprised by a little weenie? I don't mind it.
It's an interactive experiment that challenges how we instinctively label one another.
But I don't have to explain my performance piece to you.
You're not my advisor at The New School.
Forgive me.
I wasn't criticizing your piece.
Yeah, we're still not even sure if you have one.
Can you excuse us for a minute? And by the way, the fuchsia in your blouse really brings out the red in your beard.
People are gonna see our adorable labels and think all our cupcakes are stuffed with wieners.
Would it kill you to have a wiener stuffed in your cupcake? Look, someone is paying for them, and that someone can do whatever the hell they want with them.
I said the same thing to the people who bought my kids.
We don't want someone to deface our cupcakes.
They're meant to be enjoyed by children or single women when a romantic comedy hits too close to home.
Money is money.
It doesn't matter.
Just put the cupcakes in the bag.
I don't feel good about this.
Sorry, but we're just not comfortable selling you our cupcakes.
He is right here.
Bag it! What did you just call me? - Oh, no.
- Oh, no.
No, no, no, no, no, no, no.
I did not say the thing you thought I said.
I didn't even think it.
In fact, I wasn't listening to half that crap you said.
She said, "bag it," with a B, as in boy or not a boy.
Oh, I see what this is.
This is just another homophobic bakery trying to deny service to people like me.
Well, I don't have to stand here to tell you how upset I am.
That's what Yelp is for.
Oh, no.
I think Kathy Bates is really mad at us.
Well, that sucks.
Now I want a hot dog.
Where are all the customers? I haven't seen this few people since You went on Tinder? Your sweet 16 party? Caroline, throw one in there.
Your season of "The Bachelor"? I was going to say so few people since a sale at your cupcake window.
Boom! I just schooled you.
Well, preschooled us.
Hey, everybody.
Oh, my gosh.
You girls, I raced over here so fast, I left half my hair in Midtown.
Love the babushka, baby.
Reminds me of my Aunt Schmirna.
Great boobs: one big, one small.
Something for everyone.
Yeah, the gays, they're real mad at you.
Yeah, my stylist, Carl, told me about two girls with a cupcake shop in Brooklyn who didn't want to serve a member of the LGBTQ community.
LGBTQ? Those are the trains I take to get here.
Oh, my God.
Max, this is terrible.
I know.
Earl only lives a block away.
Why is he taking five trains? The gays are steaming mad.
You know, if I were you girls, I would stay away from the Village, the East River, the Hudson River, Melissa Rivers, Pinkberry, Broadway.
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