Previously...
Ladies and gentlemen Todd Carr. Who took my precious little novel,
wiped his ass, and transformed it into this "Crazy little thing called love".
- Holy fucknuts! - Shit! Don't you fucking knock?
You used to be all about the morning sex. What's going on with you?
- Anybody home? - Hey, baby!
Good afternoon, Mrs. Runkle.
What do you want me to do?
Maybe you want me to make you wear a ball gag in your mouth.
- You have to come get me. - I'm a little busy right now.
My teacher is coked out, trying to get me into a threesome.
You wannna go to the movies with us, Dad?
That was bald old uncle Charlie, and he's going through a rough patch.
- You cried wolf. - Maybe I just wanted to see you.
You're not in love with me, Hank. You're in love with the idea of love.
You're running for the hills.
This is exciting. I'm ready. I'm all ears.
Nothing gold can stay. Nature's first green...
Stop! I think I just threw up in my mouth a little.
You had 20 centuries of halfway decent verse to choose from
and you're going with some minor Frosty?
- I like it. It's short. - And?
- Bleak. - And?
- I saw it in a movie once. - Then, it must be good. Continue.
Basically it's about how nothing good ever lasts.
How, no matter what you do, it all turns to shit in the end...
Like you and mom.
Trenchant if profane literary criticism. It's an interesting take.
I will put that one on your tab. But don't ever think that.
Just because something is bleak doesn't necessarily make it true.
Hair.
Happy endings may get a bad rap, but they do happen.
When they do, they're just as true as the unhappy ones.
So it's possible maybe one day you and mom could get back together?
- Of course. Anything's possible. - Yes, but is it realistic?
- Who says we have to be realistic? - Mom.
Not to contradict your dear old mom, who's both wicked smart and wonderful,
but we don't have to be realistic, not when it comes to love.
Jeez. Is that Yusuf?
Guess that's her.
Got to change what I'm feeding that dog... or you.
Hello, sunshine.
I'm double-parked, so I just got to grab her.
Skip the pleasantries. But can you stop telling our daughter
not to believe in happy endings? What's next, no Santa Claus?
You gonna shit all over the Easter bunny?
She figured out the Santa Claus thing, and I do believe in happy endings,
just not when it comes to the ballad of Hank and Karen.
Bullshit. We made out last week. That's nothing if not progress.
I hope to get to second base this week.
That was an accident.
How your tongue slipped into my mouth?
No, other way around.
The fact that you're making these lame excuses up
can only mean one thing, you're totally into me still.
- Come on, honey. - Goodbye, sweetie.
Stay gold, ponyboy.
CALIFORNICATION
Series I, episode 7
- There is no fucking soy milk! - Nut up and learn to digest dairy.
What the fuck is wrong with you?
Nothing a brand-new gastrointestinal tract wouldn't fix.
Bullshit. Here. It's not vanilla, but you can punish me for that later.
- I'll dust off the whips and chains. - Very funny.
I've been a very naughty hausfrau. You almost died from malnutrition.
These jokes are never gonna get old.
What is a marriage, if not an opportunity
to mock someone through thick and thin while simultaneously exploring
your darkest sexual desires?
What say one day soon we lay off mine and start discussing yours?
- Like you could handle that. - Do you want to try me?
I want to do it with a girl.
What? This is something you feel you might enjoy?
Sure. I hear it's nice. Getting a little work done
by someone who owns her own set of tools.
I wouldn't want to leave you out. It seems more honest that way.
Don't you see what this means? This is a gift from on high.
A cosmic "get out of jail free" card. The whole thing was her idea.
I'm trying to mentally masturbate about it,
but an image of you keeps popping. That's a problem.
If we do this thing, all this guilt I've been carrying around for weeks,
the massive, crushing guilt, that is gone. I am absolved.
I know Hebrews do things differently, but last I checked, a ménage a trois
was not a pit stop on the road to redemption.
- This could save the marriage. - So can buying a beach house.
Or you could try adopting an incredibly good-looking African baby.
I hear good things about that.
You got to be fucking kidding me. That cocksucker?
That cocksucker has the taste to want to option your blog
for a nice chunk of change, so play nice.
What is there to option? The title? The font?
Todd! Good to see you, man. Glad you could make it.
I would stand, but that would expose my nether-regions to attack.
I got no beef with you, Moody. I'm here on business.
So I'm told by the Alfredo Corleone of agents.
Although I can't imagine what that business might be,
unless it's to discuss custody of our retarded love child.
Let the man talk. Todd has a three-picture deal at Paramount.
He's looking to get his sack back with some edgy material.
My testicles are not available for time-share.
This is a waste of my fucking time.
You know how much shit I had to take for directing a frothy rom com?
You think Antoine Fuqua returns my calls?
But I knocked that motherfucker into the cheap seats.
I'm glad I did it.
Because it keeps the baby mamas in juicy couture?
I'm not hating. I'm not judging. I got a little baby mama all my own.
He does. I'm sensing some common ground here.
Do you remember Karen?
She was way too fucking hot for this mope.
She is. She also happens to be one fan-fucking-tastic architect.
Is someone looking to pimp out the McMansion in Baldwin Wills?
I own a Ray fucking Kappe house.
No shit. Guy has a hard-on for architecture bigger than Brad Pitt's.
- Color Me Impressed. - A brother can't love modernism?
I like this. We're free-associating here.
The lines of communication, wide open. Excellent.
Do you know why I wanted to work with you again, Moody?
Because when you're not wallowing in narcissistic despair,
you're the rarest thing this town has to offer...
Someone with some goddamn vision.
I thought it was 'cause you liked the feel of my balls on your knuckles.
Later, Runkle.
- Well done, my friend. - I feel like we bonded.
Who the fuck is answering my fucking phones if there's...
Baby, where have you been? I had a burst of inspiration.
Come here, you.
So I was talking to Dani here about our sexual problem.
- Our what? - She's totally in.
- Excuse me? - Her, me, you.
We had a little girl-to-girl chat on the subject,
and she agrees with me about the toolbox thing.
Shit. I said "tool". And "box."
Dani, could you give us just a second?
I believe my wife forgot to take her Librium this morning.
No problem, Sir.
- So, hold all your calls? - Dani, hold all my calls.
Wife, have you lost your fucking mind?
This is perfect. It's exactly what we talked about.
Yeah, talked as in hypothetical conversation. That's my secretary!
If it goes badly, I'll have to fire her.
Shit, if it goes well, I'd have to fire her.
Either way, I'm out one fucking secretary and up a giant lawsuit.
I thought you said she was god-awful?
They're all god-awful until you train them. Then they improve.
What, like dogs? You're not gonna do this for me?
- I helped you out with your fantasy. - Yeah, badly.
Just pick someone else.
- Like who? - I don't know, anybody.
Someone from the salon or... What about Karen?
The prim reaper? She's so tall and Presbyterian.
- She's gorgeous. - I don't wanna go where Hank was.
He probably left booby traps up there like the Vietcong.
Come on, baby... Please? I want the little one.
She looks like she knows things.
- My god. - You like?
Of course I like. It's a Ray Kappe house.
That's one of those guys from architecture school
who got you all juiced up. I thought maybe you'd like to see one
all up close and personal?
Hank, get back in the car. We'll get tasered by the Bel-Air patrol.
- My lady. - What are you doing?
Just made a little deal with the caramel-coated devil.
Tasering, is that something you're into now?
Oh, my God.
- It's fucking gorgeous. - Not a lot of closet space, though.
Hank never really got architecture as an art form.
Too much compromise involved, too many practicalities.
Dude would rather hang out all alone in his ivory tower.
Massaging those precious little words of his.
Like anyone gives a fuck if it's an "and" instead of "or".
You got me all wrong. I try to live in an ivory tower,
but a tide of shit is constantly beating at its walls.
Don't be impressed. He stole it from Flaubert.
Carr, how much a place like this set you back?
The feeling of real architecture. You can't put a price tag on that.
So you do mind.
Makes your heart soar, lifts your soul.
It's just incredible.
I think Ruskin once said... Shut up.
"Without architecture, there would be no remembering."
I like that. That's nice.
About 4, 5 mill? More?
I'm so sorry. Can I just say thank you?
It's always been a dream of mine to see inside this house.
- I appreciate your time. - It's gonna be even more slick.
When I have a pool out here, a little guest house,
maybe a screening room. And I want it all to be eco-friendly.
Hank says you're some kind of genius at that.
- I was hoping you'd take the job. - What job?
Carr is looking for an architect.
I think my work here is done.
- What do you think? - My God!
I like that.
You wanna jump my bones now or hold on for a situation
with a little more back support?
- I did good, didn't I? - You did!
Thank you so much. I'm so excited. Take me home so I can celebrate.
I'm up for that. Let's hit El pollo loco.
- I mean with Becca. - Her too.
The "crazy chicken" does not discriminate.
Wednesday night, I forgot. I can celebrate some other time.
You will not stay home alone on the night of your big victory.
You'd swap nights with me?
Sadly, no, but I will repeat my original offer
that all three of us throw down the carbs together...
Man, woman, and child. You wanted to celebrate!
- Not with you. - I want to celebrate with you.
- Invite me over. - No.
- I will cook for you. - Cook? You?
- I have my one dish. - Not the "cheese sensation".
Five different kinds of cheeses, including cream cheese,
the people's cheese.
Don't knock the haute cuisine of Long Island.
- It'll be like old times. - But which ones?
The good ones, like when we lived on Charles Street, among the gays.
- You hated that place. - But you loved it.
Just like you love fucked-up architecture like this,
David Hockney, gigantic fucking earrings
and the complete and utter cliché of driving west on Mulholland at sunset.
You think I don't know these things, but I do.
I'm in, aren't I?
- How do I look? - You look good.
You think she likes nuts?
Maybe we should offer her some mixed nuts.
You think she's allergic?
I don't know. How the fuck should I know something like that?
You work with people, these things come up in casual conversation.
"None for me, thanks. I have a nut allergy."
I'm sorry. We don't have that kind of relationship.
I don't know very much about this girl.
Other than you think that she's fucking hot.
How am I supposed to respond to that?
What do you want me to say? You want me to say, I love you,
this is fucking crazy. let's not do this?
Don't yell at me, asswipe! I am nervous enough as it is!
- Isn't that a sign? - A sign of what?
That we shouldn't go through with this! Look what we have here.
This is pretty great. How do we know we're gonna be the same afterwards?
- I thought the same was the problem. - There's no problem.
Do you want to get that, or should I?
Yeah. I'm gonna be there in like five...
Hello, Mia. Yes.
No, I'm sure you're in trouble. It sounds...
It sounds pretty tragic. Quite a story. Very familiar, too.
That's right. I heard it last week.
Where did you get that bra? That is so cute, I love...
Sorry. My bad. Mood killer.
You're not gonna fist me are you? I'm not sure I'm ready for that.
- What? - A little less talk might be nice.
Everybody's a fucking critic.
Put me in, coach. I'll bring it home for you.
Do you think we should, I don't know, include him somehow?
It's your fantasy.
I'm thinking. I can sleep with you any night of the week.
- It's not how this is supposed to be. - It's a fantasy.
It's not supposed to be at all.
Thank God you're here. Okay, sweetie. I gotta go.
Where you going?
Mia's in some fucked-up situation with her teacher.
She's drunk or drugs, I don't know.
- I'm gonna come with you. - Not your problem. Stay with Becca.
You don't know this guy. It's a sex crime waiting to happen, just hang on.
25 minutes at 200.
- Why are you going? - Because I have to.
No. It's just Mia. Last I've checked you guys aren't blood-related.
Your mother needs backup.
No. Can you stay with Becca? She's been waiting for you.
You can't handle this guy alone!
He doesn't look it, but he's dangerous.
Just let me drive. I'll drive you there. We'll go together.
Do with it what you will.
Or maybe you can dish it out but can't take it.
Is this gonna hurt? 'Cause this looks like it might hurt.
That's kind of the point.
He's done some pretty bad things, this guy. He deserves to be punished.
- Things like what? - You know, the usual.
I got to get my camera.
Motherfucker! Cocksucker! Shit! Fuck!
You're attached to the fucking chain! Just don't move!
Get it off your underwear!
Finally. You guys gotta get this fucking jailbait out of my house.
Honey, it's me. It's Karen. Wake up.
This isn't just alcohol. She's taken something.
Mia. Wake up!
- Hank, you came. - What the fuck's she talking about?
I don't know. She's confused. Keep your eyes open. Look at me.
Animal, what'd you give her?
You think I need a fucking date-rape drug?
Valium. The girl's got a goddamn rite aid in her purse.
How many did you take?
What? 5, 4? 45? 4 or 5.
Nobody's gonna off themselves with 4. It's all an act.
You know how fucking popular this shit is with the young ladies?
Do you think it's funny? This is someone's child here, you asshole!
They trusted you! You are meant to be her teacher!
You think I wanted Sylvia Plath to come here
and go all fucking Bell Jar on me? I'm the one getting manipulated.
She comes up to me after fucking debate practice...
Do you want me to smack you?
- Oh, shit. - I bet she feels a lot better now.
- No, she did not just fucking... - I see two. Two pills.
Is that a 3rd one there? I assume that's sushi. Is that a pill?
Let's get the fuck out of here.
Shit, Moody!
Now I'm gonna fucking hurl.
Fuck!
- Who's your primary care guy? - How should I fucking know?
You think these people are ever gonna get around to sewing me up?
I'm in considerable fucking pain here!
I'm sorry. I said it a thousand times.
You know I'm bad with mechanical things.
Tell that to my missing nipple. You took off like 12 layers of skin.
I'm sorry, nipple.
Now that I've maimed you, where am I gonna rest my head?
That was like my favorite spot.
Some fantasy, uh? How the fuck did we end up here?
On some level, I think you wanted to punish me.
- You both wanted to punish me. - For what?
Shit, you know... Everything. Husband stuff.
Not me, dickwad. Her! Why the fuck would she wanna punish you?
She barely knows you. What the fuck does she care?
I'm her boss. I make her do humiliating things all day.
You think she likes that?
- You leaned wrong. - I'm sorry.
She's an interesting girl, though, that one. Fantastic ass.
How is she?
She's fine, but she's gonna feel like seven different kinds
of shit tomorrow.
- You gonna tell Bill? - I have to, right?
Wouldn't you want to know if your 16-year-old daughter
was hanging out with some creepy perv who's like twice her age?
The situation may not be exactly as it seems.
You've got to be kidding. You're on the side of the perv.
Always. Somebody's gotta stand up for the creepy common man.
That should be a lesson to you, Hank Moody.
A lesson to me? Why? Why did you point your finger at me?
I'm just kidding, it's okay. You're a great dad.
You have nothing to worry about. That's the sexiest thing about you.
You want to say good night to Becca?
- Please. - Go, then.
You did need my backup tonight.
You might have killed that guy if I wasn't there.
Dad?
What are you listening to, there? A little falling-asleep music?
Little Joni Mitchell, Blood on the tracks?
- Death Cab For Cutie. - You know how to hurt a guy.
I know tonight kind of got a little ruined.
It's okay. I'm used to it.
I'll make it up to you, I swear.
- I know. - Do you?
Sure. You never mean to let me down.
But you do.
Yeah, I guess I do.
It's all well and good to talk about happy endings.
But if a person can't deliver, if he keeps screwing up,
eventually, I guess you kind of just have to say, "fuck you",
or words to that effect.
You can keep the change.
Subtitling MONICA REU
CALIFORNICATION I, episode 7