Previously...
-How many pills did you take? -No more than you did.
-What did you do? -Only what you made me.
-Am I gonna be okay? -Doctors think you're gonna be fine.
-What about her? -You gotta forgive yourself.
She tried to kill you, Hank.
-You have a little jetsam there. -You blew him again!
-I know about the blowing! -It was two, actually.
And you're gonna be hearing from my attorney !
-I want you to meet Gabriel. -Nice to meet you.
-What the fuck? -You weren't supposed to see that.
I want to be a writer.
Get your ass to rehab!
Stop drinking. Sooner or later, you're just gonna kill yourself.
Shit! This better not be an intervention.
It's time for group.
This place is inspiring, Hank. Totally worth the 60 large.
Do they let you masturbate?
It'd be cool to blow a big, salty one right in old salty out there.
There is the surly, mean-spirited bastard that I know and love.
-He's back! -Do I feel better? Yes.
Do I see the wisdom in a time out or a tune up? Sure.
I'm doing my best to keep an open mind about all this Kumbaya shit.
But some of the clientele, Charlie...
-What's this? -It's gonna help take the edge off.
-How did you get this in here? -My butt cheeks.
-Feels good to finally unclench. -I'm disgusted... yet delighted.
But aren't you supposed to be supporting my sobriety?
-Come on, weed don't count. -These queerios would beg to differ.
20 years ago people partied too much. Nowadays, everybody's an addict.
I don't think I'm an alcoholic, do you?
-Charlie, you listening to me? -Yeah, I'm with you.
-Is that Robbie Mac? -Who?
-The actor. -I don't know.
I'm hearing he wants to leave CAA. I'm gonna go say hello.
-I was rolling in the deep with you. -Just give me five minutes!
CALIFORNICATION Season VI, episode 62
Being a child star fucked me up.
At the beginning, it was so much fun.
It was all the M&Ms you couldbr/want from craft service
and all the suction you could stand from the extras.
But by the time that I left "The Wonder Years",
I was shooting narcotics into my taint,
and letting some very questionable dudes blow me for drug money.
-Sometimes simultaneously. -That's okay.
As my good friend and agent is fond of saying: "Holes is holes".
What about you, Hank? How are you feeling?
Since you asked, I feel like the good Lord himself
picked me up in his bare hands, laid me down on a bed of rusty nails,
pinned my ankles behind my ears, and just stuck it in.
That motherfucker just took his Darth Vader helmet,
that big Darth Vader helmet and just rammed it home.
And he wrecked my pretty little virgin asshole.
Came on my tits, wiped his dick on the curtains, and left me for dead.
That's just me. How 'bout you guys?
Is anybody else sitting in a puddle right now?
Let's get serious.
Let's put on our big boy pants and do some work. Give it a try.
My name is Hank. And...
-And... I'm an alcoholic. -You are?
-You are. -You're slapping labels on me!
Addiction is doing something in the face of mounting consequence.
-Take me somewhere with this. -How would you label yourself?
I guess I see myself as an enthusiast. A drug and alcohol enthusiast.
You abused alcohol to such an extent
that your friends and family had to stage an intervention.
They're a little screwy themselves.
Your friend Charlie said that you drank your own urine.
But that was an honest mistake, and not as unpleasant as it sounds,
which is good to know, in case you're ever in a life and death situation.
You're welcome.
You were distraught over a former lover
who killed herself and tried to kill you.
It sounds soapy when you put it like that, but who wouldn't be?
Isn't it normal to want to numb yourself when you're in pain?
Would a doctor operate without anesthesia? Nailed it.
This is not an intellectual process. It's about letting go and letting God.
That's what Batesy did.
He let go, let God, and he let you take him in your mouth.
Thank you for bringing this up.
He's referencing an indiscretion of mine, completely unprofessional.
It led to a 5-week relationship. I learned a lot about myself.
-I bet you did. -I explored my humanity.
-And your flexibility. -I learned that I am capable of error.
But also of great passion. Richard Bates will be my favorite mistake.
Forgive me for asking, but why are you here?
-Me? -Why are you wasting all of our time?
Why are you being so aggressive with me?
This is Faith. You missed her introduction.
I'm being so "aggressive" with you because everyone here is in real pain.
You're just doing lame stand-up.
-Maybe that's my process. -Maybe you're just an asshole.
No doubt about that. She's judging me. You're not coming down on her?
We do not judge those who judge.
I think that's all for now. Stand up, everybody hold hands.
God give us the serenity... No, take his hand out of your pants.
Robbie, what is it you're looking for in a representative?
It's quite simple. I'm looking for a man who's an honest animal.
I'm looking for a man who's an advocate for me and my career.
-And I want a man who's openly gay. -I see.
I want an agent who understands what I'm going through,
both as an artist and as a gay man.
-I want a "gaygent". -That's interesting.
-Because... -You're gay?
-I'm gay? -Is that a question or a statement?
-Exactly. -I don't understand.
Then, let me clear it up for you. If you sign with me,
if you put your career into my smooth, elegant hands,
you could sleep easy, like a baby, content in the knowledge
that your representative understands you from every conceivable angle.
-Because... -Because...
I'm...
... gay?
-I knew it. -You did?
-Yeah. I had a strong feeling. -Really? Why? I'm just curious.
You're very sensitive and kind, yet incredibly carnal.
And you're wearing pink. My gaydar is pinging, bro.
I have a really good feeling about this, Charlie.
Fucking men! I'm quitting men.
-Are you with me? -I'm with you, I like it or not.
'Cause it is gonna be a long time
before I trust myself around the male of the species.
I don't know what it is. I just kind of turn them into...
-Wild animals. -Dude! I know what you mean.
But you're missing the whole point of the thing. They're born animals.
We fool ourselves into thinking we can make into these pussy eaters
we could sit and watch "The Bachelor" with.
-Fuck! It's my phone. -What's wrong?
-What? -My God!
-What? -I sent my resume for a job.
-Don't answer it. -It's for the...
-They might want to interview... -Dude, you're baked.
You're gonna say something stupid and jacked up...
Don't answer it.
-I'm gonna answer it. -No. Fuck.
I don't want Stuart to wake up and get a contact high.
Good morning!
I'm sorry?
You're so crazy.
Hello. Really?
You do?
-They want to interview me. -Why?
I would love to come in for an interview.
I could get there in half an hour.
Hey!
-Yeah? -Just sayin' hey.
Hey.
-We done? -No.
I wanted to apologize for being such a turd.
I think it was me. Could have been you. Women's issues.
-Sorry, was this an apology or... -Okay, it was me. Yeah. Hank.
-Faith. -Nice to meet you, Faith.
-What are you in for? -It's a little personal.
Then I will back up and make with the polite conversation.
What do you do in the real world?
My relationship to the real world would be tenuous, at best.
-I hear that. -I traverse the globe.
In the company of musicians.
-You're a groupie. -I prefer muse.
That's nice work, if you can get it.
"Muse" would be more applicable,
since men have written songs about me.
-I can see why. -Hank, you're not my type.
-I wasn't trying to be. -I'm not the least bit fuckable.
-I didn't say that. -They frown on that thing.
Not that it matters. Because I only fall for extraordinary men.
-Okay. -Would you say you're extraordinary?
Fuck if I know, dude.
That's the first really honest thing I've heard you say.
So, anything else you'd care to discuss?
-No, that about covers it. -All righty, then.
All right.
There she is... Rebecca Moody!
Marcy?
Please, I beg of you. Just a few moments of your time.
-Sit and spin, Stu. -My heart aches for you, lover.
Former lover.
Here, brought you cash.
No, just walking around money. No strings attached.
-You think you can bribe me? -It's not a bribe when it's love.
It's not love when you're getting your hog polished by slutty starlets.
-It was just the twice with the one. -Fuck you, Stu.
Okay. Fuck me. Wait! I forgot.
Brought you some of this. Figured you might be running low.
I miss making love with you, Marcy.
I miss my sexy wittle wubber fucky.
-What about Lizzie? -Please!
She was done with me the second that we wrapped "Santa Monica Cop".
So I cut her right the fuck out of the picture.
And she gave lousy blowies. I mean, arrogant, lazy, toothy.
No.
Not fun.
Wait! What do we see here? My goodness!
It appears that mommy is a little horn-ay!
I was vacuuming! Shut up! I just found that.
-I found it too! -Don't.
-I have a wonderful idea. -Don't. No, you don't.
Allow me to work on this with you. Let me taste you again.
-Jesus! -No, please. Please!
Let me just lick all of your troubles away.
-Jesus! -No...
I'll give you one of daddy's long, slow tongue baths.
My God!
My snorkel.
God!
-Jesus. -That's what I'm sayin' right now.
Okay. Take off your glasses.
-What's with the muscle? -He gave me a ride.
-Why? -I spent the night at his place.
That's not the least bit disgusting and dangerous.
How do you know he's not a serial killer?
You should trust my judgment.
You have terrible taste in the opposite sex.
-Good visit, dad. I should get going. -You sit and you stay.
What's his name?
You don't know! Jane, you ignorant slut.
That's why I didn't introduce you. I didn't retain the information.
-I'm appalled. -And I'm changing the subject.
-How are you? -Seven different kinds of shitty.
Trying to get it down to 2 or 3. Fighting the good fight.
Trying to make you proud of me, or at least a little less ashamed.
-How's school? -Dad, I told you I'm not going.
-Working on a novel. -What are you gonna fill a novel with?
Life. Love. Sex. Death. What else?
-What do you know about any of those? -I want the experience.
-I want to start living. -No, living is highly overrated.
Sir...
-Ross. -It's nice to meet you. Roscoe.
I think that it's really cool what you're doing here. Respect!
-I appreciate that. -Been through it a few times myself.
85% of first-time rehabbers relapse. So go easy on yourself, okay?
That's good to know. What's your poison? The muffin?
No. Heroin. Coke. Booze, speed. A little bit of everything, really.
And the fucked-up sexual shit that goes along with it.
So that's the gist of it. Classy but decadent.
Elegant yet understated. And 100% environmentally correct.
-Karen? -I'm sorry. I'm starving.
-Who lives here? -I do.With my husband.
-He's a musician. -Right. That makes total sense.
He's really concerned about the environment.
Groovy. Good for him.
-Are you high right now? -No. No, I am not.
I'm highly professional. Highly.
I'm sorry. I'm really fucking high right now.
I know. But it's so bad. I was smoking pot when you called,
but it was an incredible opportunity, I didn't want to miss out. I'm sorry.
It's so unprofessional. I'm sorry.
-When can you start? -What? I have the job?
I know you're stoned, but I'm not talking French, am I?
Not at all! I love you!
You know your shit. You like to party. You're gonna fit right in.
Just one thing, and you and I will get along just fine.
Don't fuck my husband.
God. I'm not a husband fucker.
What's this, mommy?
My God! Worst mother ever!
-Stu! -Stuart!
My namesake! Get over here, boy! Help me!
God!
-Why didn't you say something? -About what?
-Did you sign Robbie Mac? -That!
-Wasn't sure if it was gonna stick. -It stuck. It's on "Deadline".
-So it is! -Told ya! Good job, Runkle. Congrats.
-Thanks. -I'm really happy for you, man.
I know you've been struggling with your sexuality for years.
It's liberating outing yourself like this. And what a way to do it.
-Bravo! -This is just out of control.
It is. And you know what?
I think a whole new world's about to open up for you.
Welcome to the mafia, buddy.
I'm sorry, Hank. You're absolutely right.
I don't know anything about you.
But I want to.
-Fuck! All this cunt is... -What the fuck are you doing?
What does it look like I'm doing? Feel that? It's my kegels.
That's fancy for pussy exercises.
-I don't mean to be rude... -Take that, mommy!
-Please get the fuck off me. -I can feel you getting soft already.
Faggot!
-You tell anyone, I'll kill you. -I'm not gonna tell anybody.
Good.
-God, I want drugs! -Who doesn't?
Kill you!
Your prayers have been answered. I'm leaving.
That's it? You're quitting? Just like that?
-This shit ain't for me. -Don't let me stop you.
I'm not.
-That girl, the one who came to visit. -My daughter.
Would you want her to see you make a chump move like this?
If you bail, you're never gonna find out what the fuck I'm doing here.
So... for the last six months, I've been on the road
with one of the biggest bands in the world.
And sharing a bed with arguably
the most gifted guitar player in the known universe.
And, about 36 hours ago,
I woke up in room 1009, Four Seasons,
somewhere in the middle of this fair country.
But on this particular morning, there was no waking him up.
-'Cause he was dead. -I heard about that. I'm sorry.
No, but you're right. That guy was a fuckin' genius.
He really was.
And married too, which is why I had to go.
He had a credit here. Tried to get clean a bunch of times.
He said I could come here and use the credit
if I ever got strung out from the road.
I figured this was as good a place to grieve him as any.
Sounds like a solid plan.
Maybe it's not a bad idea for you too.
What's so bad about taking a vacation from your life?
-Do you wanna get high? -Does the Pope shit in the woods?
I believe he does. Do you have anything to roll with?
They don't call it the good book for nothin'.
-Old testament or new? -I'm an old school kind of girl.
I feel so bad!
CALIFORNICATION