All language subtitles for Weeds - 02x06 - Crush girl love panic.Blu-ray.English.C.orig.Addic7ed.com

Previously on Weeds.

My daughter is not modeling fat clothes.

She's fantastic.

I have a job interview.

So, who's rejecting you today?

And after my uncle paid her,
Jade took me into a room...

You're adorable,
but I'm not attracted to you.

- Heylia?
- Joseph.

I'd very much like to see you.

These are our pot-growing
Armenian neighbors.

I have this problem.

I've got to get back to work.

It's a raid.

We got to hide it! We got to hide it all!

The daring raid took place late last night...

- You got me a neighborhood.
- I did.

Keep him away from my daughter.

She meets your son,
she starts smoking pot

and she's having abortions.

Just drive.

Silas? Come on.

You can't stay locked in there forever.

At least come out and ignore me.

Or let Lupita refuse to change your sheets.

Go away.

I want to talk.

Come out and talk to me.

Hello?

We got trouble in little Armenia.

Would it kill you to say good morning
when you call?

You know, I ain't so sure
it's a good morning. The DEA...

The DEA knocked over
some grow houses near our spot.

Who was on shift?

Sanjay.

- You hear from him?
- No, but...

Just meet me over here.
We gonna go in together.

Okay. I'll be there soon.

Something ain't right.

What happened?

They must've busted Sanjay.

Oh, no. No. No.

Don't shoot!

Hi.

Hang on, okay? I've got a call.

- Hello?
- What the fuck happened?

We thought we were being busted.
We tried to flush the weed.

You think a houseful of weed is
like a dime bag in the boys' room

- at church camp?
- I'm Hindu.

- We? Who's we?
- Andy.

- Where is he?
- I don't know.

He just yelled, "Out of my way, brownie,"
and ran off.

Where the fuck is my mother?

Andy had it.

Listen, I have to go.

- My mom is probably flipping out.
- Go. Go. Go. Go.

- What, no raid?
- Motherfucker.

I think we need a panic room.

What'd you do?

We can't see out, okay?

And there were sirens and helicopters,
so I panicked.

If we had a panic room,
I wouldn't have panicked.

Why does my plant smell funny?

Because I saved it.

By the way,
I'm a little freaked out over here.

I thought I was going to jail.
Look at this face.

I'd get passed around prison
like a loose joint.

Smells like piss. Did you piss on my plant?

No, I did not piss on your plant.
I watered it with my urine.

- You what?
- I was saving her life.

Not only did I provide moisture
when she was dry,

but I wrapped her precious roots
in my good hoodie, so, you're welcome.

You pissed in my plant.

Pee has nitrogen in it.

Man, that's good for plants.

Not when it's concentrated, like in pee.

It wasn't concentrated.
I drank, like, seven bottles of water.

I know the importance
of staying hydrated, man.

Is this bad for us?

Did he hurt our plant with his pee?

See? She's looking pretty good, isn't she?

That is a little bit of me in her.

Why do you never know when to shut up?

Get her back in some soil
and see if she'll take root again.

- If she does, we're okay, right?
- Who fucked up our lights?

You better hope that
the rest of them plants are okay.

I'm gonna go clip some clones
and get us back on track.

At least we're still in business, right?

We could all be in the hoosegow right now.

No, we couldn't.
We were fine till you trashed the place.

I'm gonna go check the potty,

see if any of the other clones
are salvageable.

Yeah, you do that.

Nice. Hmm?

You look adorable, honey.

- Thank you.
- Isn't this exciting? It's exciting.

Yeah, it is.

What are you doing here?

Well, this is now our only source
of income, so I'm protecting our assets.

Excuse me. The hair is all wrong.

She has a small head on a large body.

Don't let the moon-face fool you.

She needs her big hair
to balance things out.

This is what the director wants.

Well, the director doesn't realize
that Isabelle has a freakishly small head.

Mom, did you...

I am looking out for your best interest.

Excuse me.

If you add a little volume to the hair,

she won't look like a pinhead.

I don't need these negative vibes.

Well, that hairdresser should be
styling hair at the circus.

You want to have a go at makeup next,
just to guarantee that she's fired?

Well, the makeup is terrible, too.

I mean, who gives
an 11-year-old blow-job lips?

What seems to be the problem?

The problem is that they don't know
how to style my daughter.

Why is it that all you gay men
hate women so much?

Because we have mothers like you.

Okay, you, the hair.

Security, the mother.

I beg your pardon?

I want her off my set.

Control freak.

Horror show.

I love show business.

Stop!

- You have to stop!
- Yeah, yeah. Stop.

Not till Silas comes out.
This is my invasion of Panama.

Like when we got the canal?

Now, what do they teach you in school?

How to pass the weekly standardized tests,
to get the school more funding.

Okay, kiddo, home schooling.

In the '80s, Panama was ruled by a man
with bad skin named Manuel Noriega,

who used to be our puppet leader,
but then wasn't.

So, as the U.S. Always seems to do

when we have a president named Bush,
we invaded his country.

Now, then Noriega hid out
in the Vatican embassy,

but we couldn't storm in there,
'cause the Pope would freak,

so, instead, we blasted rock music
at the building

till it drove him so crazy
that he surrendered.

Silas is your mom's Noriega,

and Polly Wolly Doodle
is her rock and roll.

- Wow.
- Now I'm tired again.

Did Noriega have acoustic
noise-canceling headphones?

Because Silas does, and I don't,
and now I'm going mental.

Go to your mediocre public school
before you're late.

Is it okay
if I stay after school for a little bit?

I joined the debate club.

What brought that on?

I don't know.
I thought it'd be fun to debate and stuff.

Well, good for you.

- Have fun.
- Thanks.

Silas, come out, please.

I'm trying to help you.

God damn it.

What can I do to help you?

Buy him a car.

- I want a car.
- No.

So, how's business?

I'm not gonna talk with you about this.

Not so hot?

Jeez, Nancy, if you can't rake it
in dealing drugs, then...

- I swear.
- Come on.

Stop thinking of me like a kid. Talk to me.

Fine. Business is fine. Thank you.

So, is it just weed?
Are you slinging coke or meth?

- Just weed.
- Why?

Because I think

coke and meth are dangerous drugs

that destroy lives.

I think pot-smoking
is basically a victimless crime,

although I don't want you smoking it.

You shouldn't smoke it.
Pot makes you stupid.

You two look like you are ready to buy.

I need something for my son.

Special occasion? Birthday? Graduation?

- My girlfriend just had an abortion.
- I've got just the car.

This is sweet.

Awesome.

Two-seater. No backseat, no trouble.

I'll be right back.

I love it.

No. Unsafe.

If you're so concerned about my safety,

maybe you should have considered
another line of work.

One more word,
I'm taking my dirty drug money,

and I'm buying myself
huge diamond earrings and a gold tooth.

- Mom...
- I mean it.

Get your ass into a nice four-door,
and be grateful you're not on rollerblades.

You can buy the sports car
when you're 47 and bald.

Agrestic Elementary has become
a second-rate debate school.

We were the regional champions
when students like Joel Garrity,

Leon Krantzberg,
and Larry Chin were debating.

But now, it's up to you
to uphold their legacy,

to make us the powerhouse we once were
and return the Disraeli Award home...

Isabelle.

I need to talk to you, Mr. Wilson.

- Does your mother know you're here?
- No.

- And please don't tell her.
- I don't speak to that...

- Your mother and I rarely speak.
- That's why I'm here.

I need someone I trust to handle my money.

- What money?
- From my commercials.

I'm the new Huskeroos girl.

Oh, "The bigger the better,
the Huskeroos sweater"?

Yeah, that's gonna be me.

And we're talking big hunks of cheddar.

So, can you help me, Mr. Wilson?

Well, I could put your money in a trust,

but you're gonna need at least one parent
to be the signatory until you're 18.

That's bullshit. The money's mine.

The State of California says
you got to pick one parent...

My dad.

Your mom really has no idea
that you're coming to me?

Can your accountant interest you
in a delicious Crunchie?

Yay!

Are you still angry with me?

No, I'm fine. I'm fine with being a friend.
I'm a fine friend.

- I have to fuck you.
- Will you stop?

I told you.

You don't have the qualities
I look for in a man.

Now, what exactly are those qualities?
Because I can get them.

I know a guy who knows a guy.

I like big men.

You have none of the physical qualities
I look for in a male lover.

But you do have soft skin and sad eyes.

And those are things I find very attractive
when I sleep with women.

Okay.

Well, I do so appreciate
how you respect my dietary laws.

It's fun.

Let's eat.

- Look at these lamb chops.
- I like pork chops, myself.

You know, the pig is a filthy animal.

It carries parasites that live
in your intestine and lay eggs,

causing all kinds of illness.

Well, them parasites
taste damn good to me.

Miss Vaneeta,
I'm simply trying to educate you.

- Why? This ain't Muslim school.
- That's enough, little girl.

Please, Heylia, let me talk to her.

Your hostility hangs thick in the air.
What's troubling you?

You coming around here
with your holier-than-thou bullshit.

"We don't eat this. We don't do that.

"We like our women dressed
like fucking beekeepers."

My dear child,

maybe you need to take
a good, hard look at yourself.

Look at your tattoos, your cornrows.

Listen to the language
that comes out of your mouth.

You're not a lady. You don't act like a lady.

And then you wonder
why your baby has no father.

Fuck you,
you bow-tie-wearing motherfucker!

Hey, now, stop, both of you.

I just...
Let's just relax and have a good meal.

I am sorry, Heylia.
Perhaps I should be going.

That's the best words come out
of your fool mouth all night.

- Joseph.
- I'll call you, Heylia.

- You got any last words?
- Yes.

Where the hell are you?

You so busy finding fucking couscous
on the Internet,

you ain't taking care of your game.

Conrad is never here no more,
and business is off,

and all you can think about is
some fancy-preaching, pork-fearing fat-ass.

Heylia, if you gonna drop out and become
one of them li-li-shrieking Islam ladies,

let me know,
so I can hire a fucking babysitter,

and call Keeyon in and get to work,
'cause everything is going to shit.

Come on.

- What's that?
- What does it look like?

- You think you can take it?
- It's not for me.

It's big.

I know.

- That's really big.
- It'll fit.

- Does it have to be black?
- Stop being a pussy.

I thought that was the whole idea.

Don't forget to breathe.

What?

Hey, check it out.

How are the kids?

Conrad.

I got 20 new clippings.
We'll see how they do.

You're a genius.

- What's wrong?
- Been thinking.

About what?

About our little miracle.

We're dead smack in the middle of all
these houses that get busted, and we skate.

Yeah.

Wow.

Were we lucky.

- It's a funny thing about luck.
- What's that?

I don't believe in it.

You got something you want to say to me?

You want to tell me
why our little Armenian problem

is suddenly no longer a problem?

I told you I was gonna take care of them.

You're still fucking that DEA guy,
ain't you?

- It's not like that.
- Well, then, please, tell me what it's like.

He's on our side.

You fucking lied to me.

You swore on your children
that he didn't know.

He didn't know when I told you.

I mean, he did know,
but I didn't know that he knew.

It turned out, actually,
that he knew all along, but it does...

It's... It doesn't matter. It's okay.

How can you be so fucking sure?

- I have insurance.
- Insurance? What...

State Farm got some "Get out of jail free"
policy that I don't know about?

No, I married him.

You what?

We're married.

No, it's really clever.

If I'm his wife,
he can't be forced to testify against me,

and he married a drug dealer, so
it's kind of mutually-assured destruction.

I have the marriage certificate,
so we're protected.

You're protected.

Ain't no ring on my finger.

- We're partners.
- We're partners?

Then why is it that
every move you make digs my grave?

- He doesn't know about you.
- For how long?

- It's just a matter of time.
- It's gonna be okay.

How in the fuck is this gonna be okay?

You know, Heylia was right.

You just open your big, brown eyes,
and me, I just fall into shit!

What in the hell is this?

The Softail Deluxe.

What the fuck is it doing in my atrium?

- I bought it. It's mine.
- Really? With what money?

My salary.

- You got a job?
- Yeah.

And why didn't you tell me? Doing what?

I am Isabelle's manager.

Oh, no.

No. No. No.

Yes, I am. Yes, yes, yes, yes.

You're a lawyer, Dean.
You need to go find lawyer work.

Kill all the lawyers.

God, how did I get here?
What have I done?

This is not my life.

Same as it ever was.

Where were you?

Driving around.

It felt good.

Silas.

It's 4:30 in the morning.

You're not allowed to stay out this late.

I know. I'm sorry.
I'll keep better track of time, next time.

Well...

Good.

- Mom?
- Yeah?

- What you do and all...
- Yeah?

...I'm cool with it.

Fish and game officials
tranquilized the bear,

who fell out of the tree but was not injured.

Fish and game officials
tranquilized the bear,

who fell out of the tree but was not injured.

Watch this.

No, watch this.

- Where'd you get this?
- You e-mailed it to Dean as a joke.

Oh, yeah. It's pretty funny.

Won't be so funny when I bulk-mail it
to every voter in Agrestic?

I'm shaking.

Well, you should be.

Because when I'm done, you won't be
able to get a seat in a chair factory.

Unless you prefer to save yourself
some major embarrassment,

not to mention potential criminal charges,

by making me the signatory
on Isabelle's account

instead of Harley Davidstein.

Only needed one parent,
and Davidstein beat you to the punch.

I will not allow you and Dean
to take control of my daughter's finances.

- I'm just following her orders.
- Her orders?

Isabelle came to me.

And I explained to her
that she needed to make a choice

between you or Dean,
or both you and Dean.

And it took her half a second to decide.

- Really?
- She hates you.

Oh, my God. Too bad she can't vote.

Well, I... You know,
Isabelle and I have had our differences.

She hates you.

Just like I hate you.

So, you know what?

Go ahead and bulk-mail your heart out.

See you.

Hi. Welcome to Thursday's. How many?

- I'm here to meet someone.
- Well, would you like to have a seat?

- Hey, there.
- Nancy.

- Welcome to Thursday's. How many?
- Table for three.

Okay. First things first. I want to apologize.

I didn't think either of you would show
if I told you in advance, so I lied.

I'm a liar.

I'm sorry, Conrad. I'm sorry, Peter.

This should have happened a lot sooner.
That's my fault. Again, I apologize.

So, if you have any anger,
send your anger this way.

Nancy, who is this person?

This is Conrad, my business partner.

No, I am not.

Well, I am just another
out-of-work black man.

Matter of fact, I've never seen this woman
before in my life.

It's okay. Really.

Why are we here?

Conrad had some issues
with our arrangement,

and I thought it would be better
if we met and we got to know each other.

Conrad, the floor is yours.

- Ask Peter anything.
- I don't think so.

- Peter, please.
- You're the husband?

I am.

And you are the partner?

Conrad.

Why risk your whole fucking career, man?

I'm having trouble wrapping my head
around that part.

I do it for her.

Now it's my turn
to have a question answered.

How did this partnership begin?

My kid bit her kid at a karate tournament.

- That's funny.
- Guys.

Your boys at the DEA,
do they know about me?

I wouldn't know. Probably not.
You're small-time.

Nobody knows about anybody, okay?

Conrad is my friend
and my business partner.

This was just sort of dropped into my lap.
I had not anticipated this.

I know. I'm sorry.
I just thought we should work things out,

so that we could all move forward.

How the fuck is this supposed to work out?

Well, off the top of my head, I would say
don't expand further than the grow house,

and take your harvest directly
to the medical marijuana clubs.

- And you don't want a piece?
- I don't want any money. I just want Nancy.

- And I'm just supposed to trust you?
- You don't have to trust me.

Trust your partner,
who happens to be my partner.

And, so, by the transitive property
of partner trust, we can trust each other.

See?

All gonna be fine.

Right?