All language subtitles for Californication S02E03 [1080p] [x265] [pseudo]

Previously on Californication...

- So, why the vasectomy?
- I hate the rubbers.

What happened back there
could have happened to anybody.

Wrong place, wrong time, wrong vagina!

I think it's time I go have
a little chat with our president.

That's it! Runkle is ankling!

Are you sure you don't
want me to step outside?

I've had way grosser dudes than you

staring into the business end
of my cooter all day long.

Porn!

Julian's a writer too.

Really? My condolences.

What I write about is,

accessing the artist that exists
within every single one of us.

So, let me get this straight.

Your name is Trixie, and you are a whore?

- Lew Ashby.
- Hank Moody.

The writer?

I got this book deal.

They want to write about
why everything I touch turns to gold.

You write it.

Hey, great. You're up.
I made some coffee.

Hey, Becca, let's go!

You know the house...
The job that we're bidding on?

It's over in the Valley,

so I thought I could just get Sonja
to drop me at Lew Ashby's house tonight,

and maybe we could go
get dinner someplace in Hollywood.

- What do you think?
- I'm listening.

- What, with your hands?
- I'm like a blind man.

Some of us have jobs to go to,

you know, like, responsibilities?

So do I, but I balance that shit.

I don't let the crushing pressures
of the workday world

interfere with the richness of my life
as a sexual being.

I noticed that. But I don't know
if getting paid six-figure sums

to hang out with rock stars all day

really constitutes work, but, you know...

Of course it does.

Don't you want to send me
to the salt mines with a smile on my face?

You're not giving up, right? OK.

Oh, my God. That's... No. Hey!

That's the mailman.
That's the wrong number.

Becca. It's Mia. She's here.

Hello, hello!

Nobody's home!

Knock, knock,
foster family.

Becca, come on.
You don't want to be late on your first day.

You can sulk later. Come on.

Did you have breakfast?

- Did I mention I hate you?
- Yes, you did. I know.

I'm evil, but just get out here now. Please?

You promise you won't make fun?

- Yes.
- No!

Come on. We're kidding.

No one's gonna make the fun.
I'm sure you never looked lovelier.

Parents who truly love
their children

make sacrifices
to home-school them.

Let's go. Come on. Get your stuff.

And you...

Good luck today.

You too. Kick some architectural ass.

And may the force be with you,
my preppy goth princess.

Hey, and whatever you do,

don't be another brick in the wall!

The chorus is the verse.

What the fuck does that mean?

Work it out, grasshoppers.

Smoke?

No, thanks. I quit.

Chorus was the verse.

Yeah. The chorus was the verse.

So you just listened to that song one time?

I hear. I speak. I move on. That's my job.

Right. So you just operate on pure instinct?

What the fuck else is there?

Intellect, technique,

somebody like Warren Zevon, for instance.

Warren Zevon could sit down

and talk 12-tone theory with Stravinsky.

Half the cockbags that come through here

barely play their fucking instruments.

Yesterday the singer's girlfriend
comes by with these Sprinkles cupcakes,

and one of those screamo fags in there

pulls out this little plastic knife,
cuts one in half,

shares it with
the other Johnny Cupcake.

Elton John going down on George Michael
in a public washroom, less gay.

It would've been more gay

if he shoves a cupcake up the other
guy's ass and then ate it out of there,

but thank you for putting that in my head,
because I love me some Elton John.

You love me some Elton John?

What are you... Get off of my ass.

Looks like we're just in time.

Take-out has arrived.

- Hi.
- How you doing?

- Hank Moody.
- Beatrice Trixie.

You two know each other?

I seem to recall
an exchange of currency, yes.

Well, cool.
Then you take Trixie, I'll take Amber.

- Unless you want to go together?
- No.

- Swap midstream?
- No!

No? Cool. Catch you on the flip side.

Amber!

So...

How's Trix?

Charlie Runkle from...

Just Charlie Runkle.

Where? From planet Earth.
That's where I'm calling from, OK?

Meanwhile, how about
we just get a lunch on...

the books.

Nice.

Hey, I know you. How you doing?

You don't remember me?
We met at my wife's salon.

Yeah, you were having your lady needs
tended to, and I was...

Marcy's dude.

- Yes. Charlie Runkle.
- Daisy.

Daisy. That's right. Daisy. The lovely Daisy.

Where are you off to
this lovely afternoon?

You know, just work.

Work? Well, that's great.
That means you scored a part.

Well, you're not psyched.

These guys are just total amateurs,
and I hate working for them.

I understand the basic impulse

to want to stick your dick in something.
Like, I get that.

I'm just not one of these chicks
that's down with objects.

- Objects?
- You know, like bottles of booze,

cellphones and whatnot.

Toys, sure.

Food, maybe. Food's organic.

Well, some of it is.

I mean, you really...
you got to read the labels.

But once you become that chick,
you're in a box, right?

Forever and ever, you're the girl
that sticks stuff up there.

And I just didn't get into this business
to become some kind of freak show.

No. You certainly did not.

That's why you got to stand up
for yourself with those people.

- Tell them what you just told me.
- Right, they want to hear that

from some chick
just off the bus from Hicksville.

How are you gonna get what you want
if you don't ask for it?

Here's what we'll do.
Let me talk to them for you.

- That sounds nice, but...
- I'll go with you to the set,

I'll put in a few well-chosen words...

- That sounds really great, but...
- What's up, sweetheart?

You and Uncle Fester need a lift?

Look, mister, you've been really nice,

but that's actually my ride, so I have to go.

Not so fast. Are you going to the set?
I'll come with.

How you doing, pal?
OK, shove over, make room.

One real Hollywood agent at your service.

In case they don't want to do that,

I've prepared a couple of options.

But... So we've got the safe approach,
which is that.

And then we've got
the more radical approach.

Honey, honey.

I think you're throwing Karen off. Jesus.

No, no. It's fine.
I'm the one that's intruding.

I just wanted to check in with you

before we meet the clients
and go through...

It's not really your forte, is it?
Selling yourself?

Well, I'm not selling myself.
I'm selling my works.

Give me your wrist.

I don't really want to give you my wrist.

Karen? Go with it, OK?
Trust me. The man knows his shit.

- Of course, I just...
- Give me your wrist.

Oh, my God. Here's my wrist.

Close your eyes.

Don't be scared.
Good.

We all have this
pressure point in our wrists

right about here
that reduces nervousness.

Your heart is racing.
Why is that?

Because you're feeling judged.

The artist within feels threatened.
Under attack.

Now, those are very primal emotions.

You don't have to be ashamed.

Now, listen to me, I'm here to tell you,

if you're operating from a place
of inner strength and conviction,

anything is possible.
Yes.

And no dream that you dare to dream

can be beyond your grasp.

Thank you.

Believe it.

Thanks.

This is totally uncool, Daisy.

What the fuck?
You had to bring your boyfriend?

- He is not my boyfriend.
- I'm just along for the ride, fellas.

Where we shooting today anyway?

Do you know what a hassle this is?
You know what?

- We're just gonna have to fuzz him out.
- Fuzz me out of what?

Brother, if you wanna ride in the Slam Van,
you've got to sign a release.

I'm sorry. "The Slam Van"?

Fuzz me out of what?

I don't even understand
what the problem is, all right?

I'm catching a ride to the set.

I'm gonna say hello once to the director.

The set? This is the set.

- And I, hello, am the director.
- You're the director.

- Yeah.
- Charlie Runkle, UTK... Or formerly UTK.

Listen, I'm not familiar with
your work, per se, all right?

But I think it's safe to say
we're both big fans of Daisy here, right?

Yeah. You know what?

I'd be an even bigger fan of Daisy
if she would start schlobbing some knob.

Daisy, can you hurry it up?

- We're losing daylight, sweetheart.
- All right.

You know what? Fuck it.

We're just gonna put Popeye
in this scene here anyway, man.

You be her daddy or something in this one.

Or maybe a creepy uncle, OK?

Daisy, you're going to get some ice cream.

Your car breaks down. Shit like that.

Let's just start sucking.
All right. On my go!

And action!

It was so cool of you
to help me out like this.

I just wish there was some way
I could thank you.

What the f...

Shit!

Daddy no likey.

Daisy, what are you do... Jeez!

- Come on, little girl.
- Fuck!

Make daddy proud.
Little girl, make daddy proud.

OK, there you go.

See, it's your friend.
It's your friend.

It's getting bigger.
It's getting meaner. Fight back!

Then she jumped into the car,

and we drove off into the sunset.

No, it was actually dark already.
But you get the idea.

Awesome. Good for you.

Yeah, and we've been living
happily ever after ever since.

- Pretty much.
- Pretty much?

It's a long story, but...

one night I ended up becoming
the accidental oralist

to this very naked, very young girl.

It's been a sticking point.

I don't really know what that means,
but it sounds bad.

Do you want a tug job?

Is that with the foot?

No... What?

- A little hand release?
- No, thanks.

I'm not a fan of hand work.
And it wouldn't be appropriate,

given the story I just told you.

I was just asking. I am on the clock.

Record company's dime.

Not that you're not doing
a great job on my toes.

I just thought I'd put it out there.

It's hardly cheating.

I'm pretty sure it is.

Maybe you're right.

Sometimes my whore logic
gets all fucked up.

But I can tell you there's a lot
of husbands and boyfriends out there

who would not file that under "cheating."

Call me an old fuddy-duddy,

but I think any time the tumescent head
makes an appearance, it's cheating.

Is that good dirty talk?
Like, if I said to a client,

"You're so fucking tumescent right now,"
would that be hot?

Makes my wiener feel a little weird,
but that's just me. I like words.

How come you never called me?

If you remember,
I was a little strapped for cash.

You could have called to
ask me out on a proper date.

I did give you my card, didn't I?

I just figured you give it to all the fellas.

- No.
- No?

No.

You really got under my skin,
Hank Moody.

I just couldn't shake you off.

Like, I'd be blowing
some gross Persian dude

at the Whore Seasons
and I'd be thinking,

"I wonder how Hank's doing?"

Fuck, that's romantic.

Are you guys gonna bang or what?

- What's it to you, Bo Bice?
- I don't know.

I was thinking how rad it would be
to bend you over that balcony and scream,

"I'm the king of the world!"
As I'm about to pop.

How about in a bed with a condom?

Whatever, dude.

Sure about this?

All in a day's work.

Man, you wanna watch for your book?

Thanks, but I'll pass.

Be good to the lady.

Don't fuck up her toes.

You might not want to sit there.

Why? Have you got
the herp or something?

No.

Then I'm good.

Look, but seriously, if you sit here,
people are gonna think you're weird.

How unfortunate.

And here I was planning
to run for prom queen.

You're weird.

At least I'm not the only boy
in an all-girls school.

Yeah, well...

For your information,
I don't actually go here.

I got suspended from my real school.
Some bullshit I didn't even do.

And my mom was like,
"There's no effing way

"you're sitting on the couch all day
playing Guitar Hero."

She's a teacher here.

English, I presume.

Yeah. Mrs. Patterson.

What, do you have her or something?

Third period.

But Ethan Frome gave you away.

Right.

Yeah, she's making me read
this entire stupid book.

Some sort of punishment.

I'm sorry. I talk a lot.

You do.

And you forgot
the most important part...

Are you any good?

You know, Guitar Hero.

Man, I think I just found
the keys to my chi.

How's Trix?

She was fantastic.
She was a real dame.

We didn't do anything, though.
We just hung out.

If I knew you were just gonna hang out,
talk about your feelings,

I would've gone with Trixie. She's
my favourite, my best. Totally gets me.

I know you reside in a whole
other solar system and shit,

but in mine,
I don't cheat on my girl.

Ladies and gentlemen.
Hank Moody, debauched moralist.

Why don't you tell me more
about your girl?

- What girl?
- You know, the one that got away.

The one with the house in Beverly Hills.
Your Daisy Buchanan.

That's not cool, Moody,
calling back that shit. I was gorked.

I don't talk about that stuff in broad daylight.

I'm writing your biography.

You might want to start getting comfortable
with talking.

This is it, Lew. I am done.

No more of you
and your fucking white-trash lottery winners!

- What's wrong, sweetheart?
- That asshole got rough with me,

and he went way off the fucking menu!

- What'd he do? You all right?
- I'm fine!

- Luckily, he's a quick comer.
- I'm sorry, Trix.

They're animals.
They don't know any better.

Someone's gonna have to deal

with the Cleveland steamer
that he left on your coffee table.

- Really.
- Jesus!

Consuela!

- You're a fucking prick! You know that?
- Thank you.

Show some respect.

What, to a fucking whore? Come on.

What the fuck are you doing, Moody?

Slash traded me that Les Paul
for an eightball! Fuck!

Get out!

I swear to God, I'll kill you!

Back to work, assholes.

We're making rock history here.

Act accordingly.

Look how great your tits are!

Celebrate them! That's it, Daisy! Moan!

Moan like it hurts a little.

Not like an operation,
more like a dentist visit.

Come on, baby! Slam her, Flex!

How long does this generally go on for?

These cinema vérité
masterpieces of yours?

Asshole, shut the fuck up!

OK! I'll mind my business.

I'm just a passenger on the Slam Van.

Just along for the ride.
Although I got to say, Daisy,

I'm a little bit surprised
to see you like this.

What are you talking about?
You knew I did porn.

Yes, I did, but the girl
I met back at Hot Lips

had bigger plans for herself.

She had goals, dreams and ambition.

She did not, and I quote,
"Want to end up the ass-licker."

Well, I'm not.
You see any other girls in this van?

I'm totally the star of this production.

This production is one notch
above snuff film.

Easy, brother.
Two more payments, and I own this van.

Did you negotiate
before you got on this van, Daisy?

Did you lay clear rules for what
you will and will not do?

No.

Then how you gonna get respect
and get paid accordingly?

What's the industry standard?
Double for anal?

- Dumb shit, we're shooting in a van.
- So what?

Does fairness not exist in a van?

Just because we're not on a sound stage,

does this young lady
not deserve the same dignity and respect

as someone on a sitcom
or a Broadway play?

Look, Mr. Runkle, it's fine, really.

No, Daisy, it is not fine.

There's a limit to how much someone
can get fucked in the ass

without getting paid for it!

And you, young lady, today,
have reached that limit!

- That's it! Big, stop the van!
- What?

Ovitz! Hit the bricks!
Get the fuck out!

With pleasure!

- Daisy?
- I'm good.

Little girl, you're going too, sweetheart.
Go make your dreams come true.

- But I didn't do anything!
- O-u-g-h-t! Out!

She's real scared of you.

Let me tell you something, Al Goldstein.
Talent runs this town!

See you at the Oscars, pal. Let's go!

Let's just shoot it solo, baby.

You left your shirt.

No problem.

- Here you go.
- Thank you.

Looks good.

Where the fuck are we?

It's basic instinct, really.

When I see a girl in trouble, I just react.
I don't think. I just do.

Hank Moody, my hero.

Just say the word if you want
to be properly rewarded.

My treat, of course.

Seriously, you'd comp him?

Sure, why not?
I've sampled the merchandise.

I know it's fresh.

I do remember you telling me

that you never came that hard
with a john before.

I thought it was a line,
but as you walked away,

your knees were a little wobbly,
so I thought, "Maybe"...

Hold on. Slow down.

Are you saying he's fucking better than me?

Fucking better at the fucking.
That's what she's getting at.

No, that is not what I'm getting at.
Please. What a stupid question.

Are the Stones better than the Beatles?

- Fuckin' A they are.
- I must agree with the man.

OK, there's only one way to settle this.

We both have to have her.

- We both have had her.
- No. Now. Right here.

No. Trixie, you know I'm a fan.
You got mad skills and all...

Whip it out, Moody!

One girl, two cocks,
ultimate showdown.

So tempting.
But I'm still gonna have to pass.

- What's that word again? Uh, "pussy."
- Yes, thank you.

But any scenario involving two cocks
I'm generally not down with.

Unless they're my own.

Don't you sometimes
wish you had two cocks? I do.

I guess not.

For the sake of business, that little prick
should think I'm kicking your ass.

Feel free to fight back any time.

What's going on?

Typical male-ego bullshit.

I've had both of them,
but what they seem to forget

is that they both paid for the sex.

It is my job to make them feel good.

Though I must say that
the brown-haired one, Hank,

he's pretty damn good
in the sack department.

- Have we met?
- No. Trixie.

- Karen.
- You're Karen.

- Hank's Karen.
- That's right.

You jumped in the car!
Happily ever after.

That's awesome!
Good for you!

Thanks.

Karen.

Hey! Sweetie!

Hi.

- Did you get the job?
- Yeah.

Fantastic.

So, you wanna...

get something to eat?

Moroccan? Ethiopian?

Italian.

Indian!

Hey, sweetie.

Are you tucking me in or avoiding Mom?

What, I can't do two things at once?

- Was it worth it?
- What?

Whatever you did to piss her off.

How was school?

- Fine.
- Fine?

Already your vocabulary
has decreased.

I met someone
with frontal-lobe capacity.

- Name?
- Damien.

They have girls named Damien now?

We're I.M. Ing as we speak.

Not anymore, honey.

T.T.Y. L., Damien.
T.T.Y. L.

I heart you.

My God. You reek of cigarettes.

Yes, but they're not my cigarettes.

Hank...
What are you doing?

I am charming you into our first post-snip,
safe/unsafe romance explosion.

Are you as excited as I am?

No.

No? That's it? No?

Nothing about you is really turning me on
right now.

There's always angry sex.

- You actually think this is funny?
- It's a little funny.

You think sleeping with prostitutes
is fucking funny?

One prostitute, and I didn't even know
she was a prostitute until after.

You mean until after you paid her
to have sex with you?

- Technically, Charlie paid for the sex.
- That's disgusting.

But you met her. She was nice, right?
She didn't seem like a prostitute, did she?

I have no idea, Hank.
I mean, you're the expert. You tell me.

Is there like a group discount thing?

Do you have a little punch card
that you use?

One time. I was lonely.
She was nice.

And I don't think that's any worse
than buying somebody a drink.

It's more honest.
There's no bullshit element of seduction.

- What right does the government have...
- Please! Shut the fuck up, Hank, OK?

Don't give me one of
your fucking bullshit lectures

on libertarianism right now!

Honey, that makes me kind of sad,
cos you used to love my bullshit lectures.

- You're still fucking joking.
- How could I be... We weren't together.

I'm not gonna be held accountable
for those sins.

No, of course not.
You're not accountable for any of it.

"Oops, I accidentally went down on her.
Not my fault."

"Officer, you know, that cop,
he provoked me."

I mean, Hank, you always
have some fucking excuse!

And I'm just meant
to stand here and accept it

over and over again
and I'm sick of it!

Fuck, Karen, you want to be mad
about that shit? Go ahead.

But just don't give me bullshit
about how you forgive me

and then dredge up shit from the past
that I can't possibly fix!

That's not forgiveness!
That's not giving it another shot!

I'm not talking about the past, OK?
I'm talking about right now.

I'm talking about trying to make this work.

OK, well, how am I different
from this morning?

What's changed?

Yeah, nothing's changed. You're right.

That's the fucking problem.

The fucking problem is
that I won't sit here and be crucified

for shit that I did while we were apart.

Did I fuck half of Venice? Yes.

- I don't need to hear that.
- No, not really.

But for the sake of this argument, yes.
But I didn't move in with any of them.

And I didn't set up house with Becca
and the fucking dial tone.

OK, right. Well, now who's crucifying who?

That's not very forgiving, Hank, is it?

It's not very nice.