All language subtitles for Californication.S02E06.

Previously on Californication...

That's it! Big, stop the van!

- What?
- Ovitz! Hit the bricks!

See you at the Oscars, pal.

He ruined my career.

Look, Daisy's family,
and you fucked her shit up. Fix this.

Vaginatown is probably not gonna happen.
The financing fell through.

- You're shitting me!
- I wish I was.

The "wall of cocks" sequence alone
would have blown people's minds.

The "wall of cocks"...

Oh, hells, yeah!
You got Daisy the part.

I had to invest 100 grand in his movie.

Yeah, I am pregnant.

I'm not the father.

There was only one guy,
according to Sonja.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but Hank
could very well be the father of the child.

- What the fuck is this?
- Just giving you something for your book.

We drove out here together.

I ended up producing. She ended up alone.

Greetings. Just...

What are you doing on my property?

I'm just...

I wanted to know
if the lady of the house was home.

And you are?

I'm a friend.

Well, I'm more of a friend of a friend,
actually.

My wife doesn't have any friends
that I don't know.

- Oh, so you're married?
- That's none of your goddamn business.

Well, no, look,
I appreciate the hostility.

I'm not trying to break into your castle here.

I'm a writer. I'm doing some research.

My name is Hank Moody. It's a pleasure.

There's no smoking here.

Outside?

There's no smoking outside? Really?

- Is everything OK out here?
- Is this her?

Honey, it's OK. Go back inside.

My name is Hank Moody. I'm a writer.

And I was just... doing some research.

Did I... say that you could talk to her?

Jesus, you got a bit of
an overprotective vibe happening here.

I want to ask you a question
about Lew, Lew Ashby.

Hey! Hey, I asked you nicely
to get off my property.

I don't know about "nicely," motherfucker.

I will leave your property
when I'm good and ready,

motherfucker.

Who puts a fuckin' bush there?

I'm just saying,

Ashby Manor might not be
the best place for you

in your current depressed frame of mind.

It's not for anybody since Ashby let
the douchebag within take up residence.

Your favourite. You really like that guy.

Who? Julian Self,
the snake oil salesman?

10 grand a week
that bearded bozo's making,

dispensing his diarrhoea-of-the-mouth
therapies to the creatively blocked.

- Can you believe that shit?
- 10 grand.

That's what you should have put
the Runkle nest egg into, self-help.

Wait, that's sleazier than porn.

So you made the right choice.

Laugh it up, pal.

One more day of shooting,

we sell this puppy
and I double my investment.

- So you're sanguine about the whole...
- I am sanguinissimo, baby.

Although, you know what?

I'm a little worried
about being on that porn set

cos I'm starting to feel
like a gynaecologist.

Yikes. Did you ever think of that girl?

She looks down between the stirrups

and she sees your gleaming orb
looming straight up at her.

You ever think about that?

So, did I ever think about
penetrating someone with my head?

- No, I never did think about that.
- Good.

Hey, Lew?

Lew?

Hey, Lew!

Hey, Lew, you decent?

Lew.

I knew you were a dick!

I knew it.

OK, can we do this later, please?

Sure, no problem.

Come on. Let go of it.

You can do it.

- All right, just smile.
- Hank!

Nice.

Please. Please.

Oh, that's good. We're done.

Nice and secure on there.
I'm concerned with the bump here.

If you could just... I don't want it to fall off.

Jeez! For the love of fuck, guys!

Careful, huh?

I love this thing, more than life itself.

Thank you very much.

Baby!

What have you done to my house?

I'm sorry, OK?

It's just... the location fell through.

So, look, we have one more scene,

and Vaginatown is a wrap, OK?

I just... I figured you'd be working.

What, a girl can't come home a little early?

Knock off, relax, watch a little "Opes"?

Runkle!

I need to knock a couple walls down
in there.

What is he talking about?

What's that? Is that the spinner?

Didn't we shoot that scene already?

This is my wife.

Sorry.

'Ello. Ronny Praeger. Filmmaker.

You never told me your old dear
was such a lovely bit of filth.

You dirty bastard. What do you reckon,
sweetheart? Do you want to be in it?

I could easily see you and Daisy engaged in

a nice little bit of stand-up 69.

69 is a waste of time,
stand-up or otherwise.

And don't you dare touch my walls.

You are spicy. I like it.

There she is.

My leading lady.

Can you feel it, the sexual tension?

How do I look?

Don't stare, you fucking baboon. It's rude!

Christ on the cross,
what did you do to yourself?

You look like a fuckin' child!

A very hot child.

Who's been poorly waxed.
You cheated on me.

I couldn't get an appointment,
he told me to shave.

I told you to trim.

This is Vaginatown, sweetheart.

They didn't have little heart-shaped
tufts of pubis in 1930s L.A.

Maybe not, but I think my character
was before her time.

Sorry. Who said it's your character?

We need a fuckin' merkin!

OK, you know what?

We've got a few of those lying around.

- You do? Why?
- Don't you tell him, Marce!

Turn it this way, it's like he's staring at you.

Hank, you got to be kidding me, right?

- That could be anybody.
- But it's not.

It's "the artist within"
a nice young girl named Holly.

Look, it's like one of those Jesus pictures,

except it's his balls that follow you
wherever you move.

See that brute-like appendage?
It's actual size.

You came all the way over here
to show me that?

- You're 12.
- Well... no, this vindicates me.

Proves the guy's a douchebag.

He's a danger to women.
He has to be stopped.

He's got to be stopped?

He manipulates them.
He fucks with their minds.

You're friends with Sonja,
you should go tell her.

Possibly.
But you're the father of her unborn child.

I think that trumps "friend."

We don't know that for certain.

We don't know for certain
what kind of arrangement they have either.

They live together is their arrangement.

Maybe they have one of those
open relationships or something.

- No.
- What?

That is disgusting.
That is not a possibility.

The open relationship does not exist.

It's like an oxymoron,
like "jumbo shrimp" or...

OK. So that's where you draw the line?

At open relationships?

Yes, that's thoroughly offensive to me.

The mouth-rapist who sleeps
with prostitutes is offended.

No, come on.
Look, my ethical unpredictability

is default proof of its hard-won vitality.

Because I'm not by rote
or programmatic about it.

I think this shit through, every issue.

Are you gonna go tattle to Sonja
or do I have to? I'd be glad to.

Shut up, OK?
Mind your own business.

- Get out of here.
- I'm minding our business.

- Go pick up Becca. She's at school.
- This conversation is not over.

OK, captain. What's the plan?

We gonna be shooting
something at some point?

I kind of promised my wife

that the, you know,
things would clear out by, say...

You promised your wife, did you?

What is it you think we're doing here,
Runkle? Does this look like Chatsworth?

Do I look like a Ukrainian sex worker? No.

We are making erotic art here...

something men and women, God willing,

will be pleasuring themselves to
for decades to come.

OK, OK. I get that.
And I respect your vision. Really, I do.

It's just the neighbours are getting restless,

I'd rather they don't call the cops
and have us shut down.

It's your money.

- But if you're looking for transcendence...
- We should start shooting.

Bring in first team!

Where's Clittes?

Man, you look smokin' in that picture.

Happiest day of my life.

Your dad looks so proud.

That's not my dad.

For Christ's sake, Marce.

You, it's time to go down
and unleash the monster of cock.

Be careful what you wish for.

This is what you came home early for,
isn't it?

To do some cocaine.

And watch some Oprah.

That thirsty little nose of yours
is costing us some money.

Have you checked our bank balance lately?

Asshole, you just put
the bulk of our nest egg

into a movie called Vaginatown.

And you're gonna make me feel bad

about a little afternoon snack
with Jake Clittes?

This movie is an investment,

which we're in together, remember?

A little bit of support, please.

And it's "Clittes", sounds like "titties."

Well, if memory serves,
this is where you say you can handle it

- and you can stop whenever you want.
- Oh, I can stop.

Then stop.

For a day.

For an hour.

Say "no, no, no"
all you want, Miss Winehouse.

I'm this close to booking you
a room at Wishes.

What happened to Promises?

Promises of Malibu is no longer
in the Runkle family budget.

Wishes is in Oxnard.

Runkle, bad news. Daisy's in her trailer.

She won't come out. She'll only talk to you.

We'll finish this conversation later.

Don't you be condescending to me,
motherfucker.

I can stop.

I can stop whenever the fuck I want.

Good afternoon, ladies.

It's the sisterhood of the travelling flannel.

On time for a change. Impressive.

We're still going to Lew Ashby's, right?

Yeah, we want to go, too.

"We"?

Sorry. Hank Moody, this is Annika Staley
of Rolling Stone magazine.

The Rolling Stone magazine? The one
that used to have some cultural relevance?

I am delighted to meet you, Annika Staley
from Rolling Stone magazine.

Sorry to crash the party.

I'm just trailing Mia for the day.
She's gonna be in our "hot" issue.

Oh, she's hot, is she?
Feverish?

Will you excuse me a moment?

Sorry.

Sure.

It's you, isn't it?

I made a mess of your bush this morning.

Shit, that came out wrong.

Flowers. She's got this...

potted-flower thing, and I...

I'll see you guys.

It was nice talking to you, ladies.

This is a coincidence.

I'm here picking up my daughter...

Well, I got some mail for you.

- You do?
- Yeah.

You are "resident," aren't you?

But I doubt you need
your carpets cleaned. Or your drapes.

I bet your carpets are immaculate
and they match the drapes.

Do you always make
this good of a first impression?

It's a second impression, actually.
Hank. Hank Moody.

They'll only get worse from here on in,

so I'm just gonna lay my cards on the table.

Do you know a guy named Lew Ashby?

Sure, he's some famous record producer.
A rock-'n'-roll legend.

- I'm writing a book on him.
- Good luck.

I'm gonna need it because
the guy's a cipher. I can't get anywhere.

Then why the research?
Just print the legend.

That's what people want to read, right?

One long rock-'n'-roll bacchanalia

where the music never ends,
the groupies never get older,

your dick never shrivels up and falls off

from some unspecified venereal disease.

That was unkind to my dick.

I had to get you back for ruining my bush.

Well, I've known the guy
for like six weeks now,

the only genuine moment I've had with him

is when he told me about a woman
he never got over and a Mustang.

That's why I was snooping
around your house.

I think you'd have better luck
finding the Mustang.

Why is that?

Cos it actually existed.
Blue with grey interior.

- And what about the girl?
- Figment of Lew's imagination.

I like your trailer.

I drove out here in this piece of shit.

I was gonna be a big, big star.

Look at me now.

If you don't want to do this,

- if you want to get out of porn...
- I don't want to get out of porn.

I love porn.

Why?

Cos I love sex.

And I lost it at the movies.

Literally.

I was 15, and my boyfriend
took me to the drive-in.

They were showing a revival
of Dirty Dancing.

I love that movie! Definitely in my top ten.

Mine too.

I just... I got so turned on,

I just jumped his bones then and there.

And ever since,
I've associated movies and sex.

And I started to think,

"Why does it have to be a guilty pleasure?"

Everybody watches it.
You do, right?

Very much so, yes.

Some might call it a soft addiction.

But then I got out here and...

I just... I saw what it really is.

Just an endless series of disgusting scenes

shot by disgusting people.

But then you came along.

You got me this close to my dreams.

Well, that's a good thing, right?

But it's scary.

What if I suck?

You do not suck, Daisy. Trust me.

If there's one thing I know, it's porn, OK?

And you got something that
those silicone valley gals don't,

the X factor. It sets you apart.

You're the girl next door,

America's fuckable sweetheart.

I'm starting to get that feeling, Charlie.

What feeling would that be?

The same one I got at the drive-in.

We better get you inside, then.

Please. I beg you...

OK, people, let's do this thing!

Come on...

What's wrong with Clittes?

Coke dick.

Coke dick?

Too much blow and the cock won't grow.

- What?
- Thanks to your old lady,

Jake here is about as useful
as tits on a nun.

We're gonna need a stunt cock.

Stunt cock?

You, drop your pants.

You call yourself a man?

I weep for you.

Runkle, what are you packing?

Me? What about you?

Why don't you whip out your Hitchcock
and give it a cameo?

Our leading man is circumcised.

Can't say the same for myself.

Besides, I can go for hours.
We don't have time for that.

Well, in that case...

- Honey...
- What?

You've delivered plenty of
one-minute money shots in this room.

One more's not gonna kill you.

Have you lost your mind, woman?

You actually want me to do this?

No, but I also don't want to live in Park
La Brea and eat cat food when I'm old.

100 grand, Runkle, the nest egg.

And if our blessed union
means anything to you,

you will get in there
and drive Miss Daisy, ho.

I think what I love most about Mia's book
is how visceral it is.

That's my daughter.

Oh, yeah. Yeah, great.

I guess it's too much to ask of a writer
from Rolling Stone to love music.

It's not my beat.

You cover words.

All words or just...

just the hot ones?

Why don't you find out?
Let me interview you.

Oh, God, no. No.

Come on, come on. You know you want to.

No, I don't want to.

Come on. We can have a drink,
we'll talk about Mia.

I'm sure Mia is perfectly capable

of talking about herself.

Will you excuse me for a moment?

That is a lovely shade of blue
your face is wearing.

- Oh, God. I think I'm gonna...
- You gonna...

Everyone said it would stop
in the second trimester.

- Crap, did I get some on your foot?
- No. No worries.

Unlike you,
I'm not a big sympathetic vomiter.

Thanks.

- Julian thinks that all...
- Here you go.

...physical illness...
Thank you.

...is due to some,
you know, mental weakness.

- Oh, really?
- Yeah.

What causes cancer?

- Bitter... No.
- Bitterness.

Hang on. That's not it.

- Sloth.
- No. No, it's not that.

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.
Fear.

Fear. Let's alert the media!
Let's get that shit taken care of.

End suffering in our time.

Isn't he here? I thought
he was working with Lew this week.

No. He was here. Earlier.
Laying hands on the faithful.

Oh, gee. Only his hands?

- Possibly more.
- God, I knew it.

Every time he comes over here,
he ends up boning some groupie.

And that's fucked up, right?

When you're with somebody,
you shouldn't be off

boning some stranger, doggy style, right?

Right? That's bullshit.

Right? You're not reacting
the way I thought you'd react.

- We have an open relationship, so...
- No shit.

Yeah. Well, it's how you grow.

- Is that how you grow?
- You have to validate yourself,

assuage your own insecurities
because you can't rely on other people

to bring that shit to the table.

If you don't mind my asking,

if he's not faithful to you
and he's not the father,

what is he bringing to the table?

Aside from the facial hair.

OK, look. This could be my last chance.

And fuck it. I'm not one of those people
who works alone.

I need to be with somebody.

I mean, for Christ's sakes, I was married to
a big homo for like 10 years, right?

Shit.

- What? You all right?
- No. I mean, I don't know.

- You got to puke again? Poop?
- I felt something.

No, I don't have to poop!
I felt something move!

It moved and I've never felt that before.

Hang on. Here, here. Just feel that.

Anything?

- No. Little gas, maybe.
- No, it's not gas.

No. Nothing.

- I swear.
- Hold on. Let me.

Hello, in there.
Anybody home?

Anybody home?

Shit, I felt...

Right? Right?
Isn't that weird?

Hey, guys. This feels kind of familiar.

Oh, God, Karen. Hey.

- Sounds good. Sounds good.
- Thanks.

OK. All right, I'm gonna...

I'm gonna go try to find Julian.

Thank you. OK.

I don't say this often enough,

so I'm just gonna...
I'm gonna come out and say it.

- What?
- You were right.

- About what?
- They do have an open relationship.

- You just couldn't stay out of it, could you?
- No.

- Good. That's good.
- Why is that good? What does that mean?

Only a total asshole
would get someone pregnant

then sit back, do nothing about it.

And you got involved. That's good.

That's progress for you. Hey, well done.

Hey, Becca. Come on, let's go.

- No way. This is too much fun.
- Grab your stuff.

It's late. Don't argue with me. We're going.

Fine.

Don't worry.
I've been keeping an eye on her.

That's great.
And who's been keeping an eye on you?

Good night, sweetie.

Such nice friends.

You kind of look like
you could use that drink.

Not so rough.

Would you quit squirming around?

I'm just trying to make your man-bush
a little more camera-ready.

Yeah, and I'm getting the feeling
that you're not so OK about this.

Look, I'm as OK as I can possibly be.

You, on the other hand,
don't seem that excited,

especially for a guy who's about to
get a little wife-sanctioned strizz-ange.

Well, maybe a little less with the scissor.

And, I don't know.

Could you, like...

Do that thing you do?

Oh, Jesus.

Almost ready for you, Runkle.

I knew you had it in you, missus.

Do you mind?

Now there's the porcelain monkey
I know and love.

I'm doing this for us.

I know.

Now go get 'em, quickdraw.

You're gonna be great, co-star.

How's it look? Does it look OK?

It's perfect, Charlie.

You're perfect.

All right, quiet, please!

Rolling!

And... action!

Charlie...

- Oh, shit.
- Charlie...

I know that look. He's gonna blow.

Slow it down, Runkle.

Forget it, Jake.

It's Vaginatown!

And cut!

Did we get that?

Did we get it? Please tell me you got that.

That'll do, Runkle. That'll do.

God, you're exactly like your books.

I'm exactly like my books?

Yes, totally puerile...

Crass...

- Adolescent...
- No, I know what puerile means.

I'm actually just a little surprised
that you read my books at all.

Oh, yeah. Well, sure.

You know, I try to read
all the great misogynists.

It really fuels my feminist fire.

In fact, I actually wrote
a review of your first novel.

Did you? What'd you say?

- For a little magazine back in Chicago.
- What'd you say?

I said the main character
was a self-righteous prick

no woman in a million years
would ever actually sleep with.

- I called it "a retarded man's"...
- "Portnoy's Complaint."

I remember that review.
It was one of the worst I ever got.

I don't know if we can be
drinking buddies anymore.

- That was downright vicious.
- Thank you.

What would possess you
to write something like that?

I was kind of going through
a little rough patch in my life,

was working out my issues with guys.

You think? When I read that,

I wanted to muff-punch you
with my typewriter.

You still want to?

I may need to take back "puerile."

So you're saying

you're willing to re-evaluate my oeuvre.

What, do we got aftershock?

- No, toe cramp.
- Flex that shit.

Fuck, that hurts!

I got it. Like a doctor.

Please stop this.
Please, I just need some water.

I'm just really dehydrated.

I just need something with electrolytes.

Vagatorade.

Good one. That was nice.

Who's the screamer?

It's the writer woman from Rolling Stone.

Nice! Got me off my rhythm, though.

The chick I was with, just about to come.

Hears the other one scream,
jumps right out of her skin.

- Sorry.
- I swear, for a second there,

I thought she was gonna
hit me or something, punch me.

Me likey.

Excuse me, gents.

Me likey.

Hail, Caesar.