All language subtitles for Californication S03E04 [1080p] [x265] [pseudo]

Previously on Californication...

- This is where you work?
- You want to come inside?

- Would that involve seeing you naked?
- Most definitely.

I think not. In the interest
of student-teacher relations.

Hank...

- Hank!
- Yes, Fräulein.

Tonight, my house,
English department fall mixer.

How many jobs do you have, lady?
You got a paper route too?

- Did you two come together?
- No. We just came in together.

I fucking hate you!

OK, I'll just move back in.

- I do my thing, you do yours.
- Fine by me.

- No means no, you know?
- This the surprise you were talkin' about?

I signed a big fish today.

Well, good for you.
Maybe you can move the fuck out now.

Come on.

I was looking for Charlie.

Charlie. Are you inside that woman?

I can explain.

Bob's your uncle.

Felicio. Looks like
you caught me doing a little...

pre-class meditato.

- We should talk.
- Oh, shit, you're not preggers, are you?

Hank, we kissed. That was all.

Technically speaking, you kissed me,
for what it's worth.

I've never done that before.

You never kissed a man? That's plain weird.
What, are you a hooker or something?

Hookers don't kiss.
Neither do Marines.

That's the best gay porn title I ever heard.
Marines Don't Kiss.

What I'm saying is, I've never stepped
outside of my marriage before.

Well, of course not. Duh!

Who in their right mind would step out
on His Royal Deanness?

Look, I know Stacy's not exactly of your tribe.

But once upon a time I was
very much in love with the man.

- Before he cheated on me, that is.
- Whoa, Nelly!

Are you trying to tell me that smarmy piece
of wiener cheese took his love to town?

Oldest story in the book, I'm afraid.
He fell for one of his students.

We got through it, though.
Counselling, couples therapy.

Over-intellectualising the whole thing
to an absurd degree.

- We're really quite good at that.
- Rock on with your bad selves.

That's awesome, but I'm guessing
that you feel like you're owed one.

Like you got this Get Out Of Jail Free Card,

and you just don't know
how or when to use it?

Or maybe I do.

Oh, well, shucks.
I'd be flattered...

but I try not to involve myself
in other people's domestic strife.

Really, Hank?
I haven't known you all that long,

but that doesn't seem like
part of your programming.

It's a relatively new thing based
on a shitload of really horrible experiences.

But it's a thing nonetheless.

And who says I'd ever cash in such a chit
on the likes of you?

I would be the lucky one if you would.

I mean, you're a great broad, Felicia.
You deserve to be happier.

Why can't I stop kissing you?

It's not your fault. I'm like flypaper
for the emotionally disturbed.

That's my balls.

Am I interrupting something?

- Just some furtive fucking.
- Oh, God!

- I'll come back.
- Please. This fellow?

Give a girl some credit.

- I have to go to class.
- OK. Ta.

- We should talk.
- Oh, shit, you're not preggers, are you?

What are you talking about?
You said you were snipped.

That's a relief.

- We can't do that any more.
- You're right. We should not.

I mean, we could lose our jobs,
our homes...

- our citizenship.
- Yeah, I know.

I was more thinking along the lines
that I haven't had the sex in a while,

and the other night
was kind of like waking a sleeping tiger.

If we're not gonna be doing it
on a regular basis,

I don't think we should be doing it at all,
you know what I mean?

I do know what you mean,

but that whole waking
the sleeping tiger thing

got me hard.

And I'm wet.

Hard and wet,
that's a winning combination.

That's like cookies and cream, or...

Lennon and McCartney.

Hank, I've been making some phone calls
on your behalf. And guess what.

People think you're a cunt. No joke.
Now, here's what I think we should do.

There's a lot of dried-up Hollywood snatch
out there in need of watering.

Powerful older women

whose limp-dicked husbands have long
since stopped tending their gardens.

And they want someone young,
dumb, full of come.

That's where you come in.

Now, I think we should
send you around town,

these executive suites,

and you charm your way
into the hearts, minds,

and pants of these unfuckable monsters.

Next thing you know,
my phone is ringing for Hank Moody.

So you're suggesting that
I dump this whole writer thing

and reinvent myself
as a Hollywood man-whore?

Abso-fuckin'-lutely.

And then we turn around

and we sell your story
as a modern-day American Gigolo.

- What do you think?
- What are you guys doing?

- You playing footsie?
- She's playing footsie, not me.

- We're not dating. Just fucking.
- Really?

- Just the once.
- Bullshit.

I gave you two blow jobs in one night.

And you ate this pussy
like your mama made it.

Holy fuckballs! I got a lunch.

Kristofferson. My most loyal client.

God, I get in a puddle
just thinking about it.

Oh, Runkle, now, don't be jealous.

I think we should keep emotion
out of this thing of ours.

Good idea, Sue. I'm totally with you on that.

Yeah. What are you doing later, Hank?
Party at my place.

Why don't you stop by
for a steak and a blow job?

I'd love to see you and Runkle
with your swords crossed.

Collini... out.

What the fuck is going on, big boy?

Just goin' with the flow.

I gotta pick up Becca.
I promised her I'd take her shopping.

- You want to hit a strip club later?
- Sure. Yeah.

- Sounds like a good time.
- I got a student that works at one.

- Of course you do.
- She dropped my class. I think she did.

I'm perturbed, I want to find out why,
but I can't go alone.

- That would be unseemly.
- Agreed.

Hey, you gonna buy me a lap dance?

Maybe. If you promise
not to come in your pants.

Moody... out.

Come on, Becca,
you're killing me softly here.

OK, I'm gonna pretend I didn't see that.

Just bring my daughter back alive,
and I won't call the cops.

- OK? I promise.
- Dad...

- You have no fashion sense whatsoever.
- I have excellent fashion sense.

I know what works for me.
I have a uniform.

And a massive brain tumour.

Because I don't want to see your butt crack
every time you get out of the car?

- All right, fine. I'm guilty. Call me crazy.
- May I?

May you what, butt into our conversation?
Sure. Feel free. Go ahead.

She looks amazing.

See? What she said.

Well, of course she looks amazing...

To the tune of... 200 quatloos?

Jesus Christ, if I didn't already object
on moral and religious grounds,

I'm never gonna spend that on clothes.

You promised you'd take me shopping.

Yes, honey, but I thought that meant,
you know,

buying a few T-shirts at Hot Topic

and grabbing an Orange Julius
or something like that.

- I'm not that girl any more, Dad.
- She's not that girl any more, Dad.

Thanks for the help, Shopkeep. Look, um...

I think I see someone over there
in the market for a $250 Jethro Tull T-shirt.

By the way, I was at that show.
I paid all of ten bucks for the shirt.

Go. Exploit. Be gone.

I hate you.

Becs? Bexster?

Listen, why don't we go
for a little walk and talk, and I'll...

I'll get you one of those hot dogs on a stick
that you like?

Or that you used to love, anyway.

I don't even know. I'm giving up. That's it.

- There. Are you happy now?
- Sort of.

But not really. Not if you're not.

You can't have it both ways, Dad.

- Are you expecting someone?
- Godot.

"Godot."
That's not bad.

- Hey, Chelsea.
- I want to show you something.

- We're working on her manners.
- Hideous creatures, these teenage girls.

- Monstrous. Couldn't agree with you more.
- Is it too late to drown them in the tub?

Would you like some tea or sherry or...

- what is it, Pimm?
- No, thanks.

- I heard about the fight.
- Fight. Not really a fight.

It was more like a disagreement.
Caring out loud, really.

Let me take her shopping with us.

- No. Your daughter looks like a trollop.
- That's mean.

I'm just kidding. Not really.

Come on, just tell me how much
you want to spend.

I'll make the most of it,
and I'll make her look as...

I don't know,
classy as humanly possible.

- I don't know.
- Come on. She's such a sweet girl

and misses her mother and doesn't know
how to talk to her father.

- She used to.
- Well, things change. She's evolving.

She's trying out different personalities.
You've got to adapt or die.

- Well, maybe I'll come with you.
- Absolutely not. No. No, no.

Besides, I wouldn't want her to see me

pull you into a dark corner
and make out with you.

You dirty English rose, you.

It would appear that you bring it out in me.

You all ready?

Can I go?

Yes.

See, I told you he wasn't
quite the asshole you said he was.

Come along, girls. Let's hit the road.

That's Mr Asshole to you, Chelsea.

Check it out. I think I can see
where they put the implants in.

Ba-Jesus, it's like the laces on a football.

You gonna be like this all night?
Hey, is Jackie working?

Sorry, sweetie, don't know any Jackie.
You want a dance?

Do you really think I would strip
under my real name?

Sorry, I don't know the protocol.

Well, you're forgiven.

Well, what is your stripper handle, then?

- Ashley.
- Ashley?

- Ashley Madison.
- Ashley Madison.

Meet my agent. This is my student.

Of course she is.

You know, I had a feeling
you'd show up sooner or later.

Is that why you dropped my class?

Yeah, because I'm just
that obsessed with you.

Listen, I really can't
sit around and chitchat all night.

So you can buy a dance or hit the road.

Come here, my agent.
Oh, settle down.

OK, this is for me.
And this... Well, let's go, here...

This is for Ralph Baldo Emerson here.

Come on, big guy.

- What happened to you?
- Nothing scandalous.

- Writing's just not my thing.
- I beg to differ.

Well, you can beg all you want,
but it was an elective.

I'm a business major. I don't have time for it.

Business?

Who studies business
in this day and age?

That feels really good, by the way.

- Nice work.
- Thanks.

That there is a man boner.

Yeah, that's pretty much
what we shoot for in here.

Look, I know what you're thinking.

I'm not one of your typical
fucked-up damage cases

who's just lusting for male attention.

I'm not saying those girls don't exist.

Throw a rock in here and you'll hit
six or seven, but that's not me.

I am just making the most of what I got
while I still got it.

Right. So what's next?

- I get the hell out.
- Just like that?

You're just gonna disappear
like a topless Salinger?

The Stripper In The Rye.

- Hey, did you just come in your pants?
- What? You were grinding...

- Disgusting!
- I'm sorry.

- It was an exceptional lap dance.
- Freakin' gross!

- Nicely done, Runkle.
- It was a compliment.

A liquid compliment.

Hello?

Hey, Marcy, baby!

I'm at a strip club with Hank!

I just got a lap dance. It's awesome here.

Really? No shit.

Yeah, yeah, I'll be right there.
Hey, I gotta go.

Somebody who saw the house
is coming back for the third time this week.

They might make an offer.

- Good luck, pal.
- No. Sticky fingers.

Nice to meet you, Ashley Madison.

See, what did I tell you?
Am I not awesome?

Do I not provide a valid
and worthwhile public service?

Yes, all that and more.
But you're a damn fine writer too.

So you say.

- But I don't really care about that.
- Well, maybe you should.

- Maybe it's another way out.
- Of what?

The hole you're desperately
trying to dig out of.

Maybe not as fast, but the payoff
will last a lot longer, trust me.

You know,
I don't know a thing about you, Teach.

Where you grew up, what you believe in.

But you really have no idea
where I come from. The shit I've seen.

- All right, well, tell me.
- Why?

- It's boring as shit.
- I don't know, tell me.

OK, do you really want to hear
about the father that I never knew?

The mother who used to clean
rich people's houses to get me to college?

Writing is just a pipe dream.

You can't really make a living
doing something like that.

Actually, that's how you end up teaching.

Instead, I would rather retire my mother,
you know?

And if I have to use my body to do so,
then so fucking be it.

You know, I appreciate you

trying to help me unleash my inner
Hemingway, but I'm a big girl.

You know, I can take care of myself.

I think you should
really get back into class.

We could workshop
that little story of yours.

I'm not sure I believe a word of it,
but I dig the details.

- It was a pleasure meeting you, Ashley...
- Madison.

Ashley Madison.

- Jesus, took you long enough.
- I'm sorry. I had to call a cab.

What's with the stain?

Don't bother. I don't want to know.
I'm on the rag, and I'll start screaming.

- I don't want to scream.
- OK. What can I do?

Just make sure your jerk-off paraphernalia
is all tucked away.

Gone. Done. What else?

That's it. I think I'm good with that.

- So this is it, huh?
- What?

We're really gonna do this? Sell the place?

- Isn't that what we want?
- Yeah, sure, I guess.

Just, you know, all of a sudden,
a lot of memories come flooding back.

Some bad, but so many good, really.
Great, even.

Can you stop, Charlie? Just stop, OK?

Cos I really don't want to go traipsing
down memory lane with you right now.

I gotta go change my fucking tampon.

- Is that all you got?
- Come on.

- Yeah, Ashley.
- Come on, Ashley.

- Party. Yeah.
- Party with us.

Hey, Jackie.

- You all right?
- Yeah. Fine.

You know, big girl.
Can take care of myself. Remember?

- You sure?
- Yeah.

That means you can take off now,
old timer.

I'm not sure I want to. I'm lonely.

What do I have to do to join this little
homoerotic band of thieves here?

Someone's looking
for a mouthful of cock and balls, huh?

Well, that does not sound
very appetising or filling.

Oh, shit! Bruce, Johnny, over here, quick!

- Kick his ass.
- Leave him alone! Stop!

Fuck you. Fuck you!

Hey, Ted, let's go.

What were you thinking?

I was trying to prevent you from getting
raped atop a pinball machine, you ingrate.

They're my regulars.
They're usually sweethearts.

- Now you tell me.
- Are you OK?

No. I just got my ass kicked
by a J Crew catalogue. I'm not OK.

- What hurts?
- My ass.

Yep, this is where the magic happens.

Oops, sorry. Used to happen.
Yeah, we're splitting the sheets.

D-l-V-O-R-S-E. Nothing to be ashamed of.
Things just didn't work out.

You know, could happen to anyone.
Even you guys.

Hey, dickless wonder, shut up.

Get it together, you two.

That's disgusting.

Oh, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

Well, that time of the month.
You know how it is, right, sisters?

Don't worry, we'll make it all nice.

Well, I think we've seen everything
we needed to see. Thank you. Good night.

Really, Marcy, a fucking tampon
in the toilet? In this market?

- Under control.
- You should be ashamed.

It's going down.

Come on.

You're coming in.
I want to take a look at you.

- What about your friend Balt?
- He's sleeping at his boyfriend's.

He's got a boyfriend?
Good for that dude.

Pussy.

What, no points for attempting
to defend your honour,

no matter how ill-conceived
or amateurish the execution?

- Is that what you were looking for?
- Not exactly, but that'll do.

No. No más. I'm dizzy enough as it is.

- And this is not a good idea.
- What does that even mean?

- You're my student.
- Not any more I'm not.

Well, you're a student, and I am a teacher,

and as such,
this is frowned upon somewhat.

Give me a break.

You once spent an entire class ranting
about how much you hate Coldplay.

Something tells me that you could care less
about what's frowned upon.

That's still one of my favourite lectures.

Shit, you're really weakening my resolve.

Look, I'm 23.

If I'm attracted to you...

If I want to fuck you...

- That's really not helping.
- Then what's the big deal?

You have really nice boobs.

Can I touch one?

Go ahead.

Oh, hello.

This is so not fair.

Fuck. It's like a slasher film in there.

I think I got it all.

Are you OK?

Just leave me the fuck alone, Runkle.
Jesus!

Why are you crying?

Why wouldn't I be crying?
I just want to be done with it already.

I want to sell this fucking house
and get on with the rest of my life.

Maybe you should have
thought about that

before you left all that
menstrual blood in the toilet.

Would you cut me some slack?

How many big, stinking dumps
have you left in that very same toilet?

I'm sorry I've made you so unhappy, Marcy.

Doesn't matter any more.
We just weren't meant to be.

See, that's the thing. I think we were.

I think we were supposed
to live happily ever after.

I just took a wrong turn somewhere.

Or, OK, several wrong turns.

I fucked it up.

I'm a big boy, Marcy. I will do whatever
it takes to make you happy again.

And if that means letting you go,
that's what I will do.

Just you watch.

What the fuck is wrong with you?
What happened to letting me go?

I don't know. It's hard.

It sure is.

Do that again.

Hey, what's up, baby blanket?

I can't seem to drag my ass
out of bed this morning.

I don't know. How 'bout you? Can't sleep?

No. That bed's awfully big without you
and your smoking-hot ass.

That's funny, cos you never seem
to have much of a problem

getting someone to share a bed with you.

Yeah, well, they ain't you, lady.

So what can I do for you?

That's easy. You just tell me

that despite all the seemingly shitty things
I do, I'm still a good person.

Oh, my, you are having
a dark night of the soul.

I'm just not liking myself very much lately,
and we're fresh out of booze.

Otherwise I'd sleeping
like a drunk marmoset right now.

So what,
you want me to hear your confession

and absolve you of all your sins?

That's kinda hard to do when
I don't know what you're up to out there.

- Want me to give you the gory deets?
- God, no.

I mean, that's the beauty
of being so far away.

I don't need to listen
to the gory deets any more.

But thank you.

You make me feel better.

It's what I do.

Listen, much as I would love
to soul-search with you, I need to go.

I get it. It's time
to make the doughnuts, right?

You still love me?

Always. That's the problem.

- Gospel. Have a good day.
- Get some sleep, sinner.

Give that little rapscallion
a kiss for me, OK?

Will do, bugaboo.

Top of the morning to you,
Miss Robinson.

And you too, Mr Moody.

And just so you know,
I've been thinking about it,

and I don't think
we can be friends any more.

- Oh, really? That's too bad.
- Not necessarily.

I'm not wearing any underwear.

Professor, would you mind terribly
if I audit your class this morning?

I was thinking you could probably
teach me a thing or two

about life, love, the pursuit of happiness.

I'm sorry I'm late, Teach.

Hot date.
You know, up all night thinking about it.

Just keep on replaying it
over and over and over in my mind.