Original subtitles

OK, big guy. You and me.

We've never done this before,

but... desperate times call for desperate measures.

My name is Hank.

Hello, Hank.

Oh, I'm sorry, Sister.

I was just trying to have a little chat with your husband up there.

Is there something I can help you with?

No, I wouldn't want to bother a real, live person about it.

It wouldn't be a bother, Hank.

In fact, that's why I'm here.

Well... here's the thing.

I'm having what you might call a crisis of faith.

Put it simply, I can't write, which really kind of sucks

Because I'm supposed to be a writer, and a professional one at that,

and I can't seem to be able to produce so much as a goddamn predicate.

Sorry. You know, my apologies.

I fucked up... Again, I apologise.

Well, normally I would suggest a bunch of Our Fathers

or a couple Hail Marys,

but I don't think that's gonna get it done.

What about a blow job?

A blow job. Would that make you feel any better?

A blow job from you?

Well, something tells me it's not gonna suck itself, Hank.

No, but... but you're a nun.

A totally fucking hot nun.

Sweet baby Jesus... Hank is going to hell.

Bad dream?

Yeah.

No... I mean...

It's hard to say, really.

Well, you drifted off, and I thought to myself,

"Self, what's the nicest possible way I can wake up Mr Hank here?"

Kudos to you, because you definitely stumbled upon one of the nicer ways.

Well, you're nice to me, I'm nice to you.

Yes, it's very quid pro quo.

- What does that mean? - Never mind.

My husband never... has never given me an orgasm.

- Never? - Ever.

Does he, you know, go downtown, tour the southland?

- Never. - Go under the hood?

Well, that's not true. Yes, he has.

But he made me take a shower first.

And then he spent 45 minutes trying to find my clit.

How did he do?

I'm pretty sure he thinks it's on the bottom.

Near the vaganus?

That's weird.

Well... I can take a hint.

I just so happen to have my GPS with me.

I've stored it up my ass.

Hello. Wow, yours is on the bottom.

I seem to have found something.

- Hey, what the fuck was that? - That would be my husband.

OK. Well, maybe I should hide under your clit. He'll never find me there.

Heather! Whose piece of shit is that?

I think I should go.

All I need to do is, uh, find my pants. There's no pants anywhere?

- What the fuck? - It's not what you think.

- Whose pants are these? - They're yours, baby!

Where is he?

Motherfucker! Yeah, you!

Oh, you got to be kidding me!

What, are you, like, 60 or something, bro?

Yo, K-Fed, the little man in the boat? He's up here.

That's where he is! Right here.

- Just let him go. - Are you kidding me?

- You guys work it out. - You're dead! You're dead, man!

God damn! What the fuck?

Son of a bitch!

What are you doing?

Ladies, Daddy's trying out a new look.

What do you think?

- Dad? - Yes?

Are you mentally insane?

Yes. But I'm extremely high-functioning.

He's much like a special-needs person that works at McDonald's.

I'm late, and I'm sorry, and I'm not wearing any pants,

but I would like to invite you two ladies to join me.

Take your pants off and come with me to the pants-off restaurant.

Sounds tempting. But I've got plans, OK?

- Oh, must be date night. - Yeah.

- Come on, Mom. - Peanut, I can't.

But, you know... enjoy your daddy time.

- Where's my kiss? - You're a really classy guy, Hank.

Oh, that's funny, coming from you and all.

So... who won that round?

Oh, it's not whether you win or lose. It's how you play the game.

Looks like a fun game.

Do you think I made her laugh?

Sure. A little.

On the inside.

- Yellow Submarine? - Pirates.

Again?

Johnny Depp is hot.

I concur, but wouldn't you rather expand your cinematic horizons

and pick a film that's based on a piece of literature

and not a theme-park ride?

Pirates it is. Why don't you try my room?

Hey, honey, I don't think I have any sushi takeout.

I've got the House of Chow, which is Chinese.

- Father? - Daughter?

- Can I ask you something? - Anything, my love.

Why is there a naked lady in your bedroom?

You wait... right there, OK?

There's no hair on her vagina.

Do you think she's OK?

I'll check.

- What are you doing? - Oh, hi. I thought I'd surprise you.

- You surprised my daughter. - I'm so sorry.

I mean, really, I should have called, but...

- You know what? I'm sorry. - Really?

- Yes. - Oh, God.

Maybe we should think about cooling things off a little bit.

- Excuse me? - Or not.

Either way. I'm easy.

God, you are amazing, Hank.

You spent all this time sweet-talking me into the sack,

but, hey, now that you've exacted your revenge,

you're done with me, right?

Revenge? What are you talking about, revenge?

Please do not make it like it wasn't the least bit satisfying

to fuck the wife of the man who turned your precious little book into a big, shitty movie.

Well, now that you put it that way...

What other way is there to put it, Hank?

Now that you put it that way, there is no other way to put it.

Shut up. God, just shut up.

And you know what? By the way... the truth is...

the movie is much better than the book.

OK, so, not only are you a cadaverous lay,

you also have shitty taste in movies.

Oh, hi.

Thank you.

Cheers.

So... is this the new girlfriend?

...along the Israeli-Syrian border.

Initial reports claim Israeli jet fighters bombed a guerrilla base,

killing at least 49 soldiers and 13 civilians.

Hey.

A 49-year-old unidentified...

- I wish we could take him with us. - Yeah.

Why don't you get your stuff together, honey, OK?

- Don't yell at him. - I'm not gonna yell at him.

Much.

...any information that would help the investigation.

- Hank. - What?

Oh, I know that look.

That's the look that shrivels me testes.

12-year-old finds naked slut in dad's bedroom.

Are you still feeling cute?

- Oh, she mentioned that, huh? - Yes, she mentioned that.

So... what? You're jealous?

What? You are so lucky that I don't take away the little custody you do have.

You know, Bill tried to convince...

You're getting legal advice from your boyfriend Bill, now?

That's sweet.

Don't start, OK?

- You started when you cheated on me. - I did not cheat on you.

In what universe is fucking someone

when you're married to somebody else not cheating?

Oh, the one in which you were never actually married.

That is a bullshit technicality.

You never asked. You didn't want to be that guy.

That's what I dug about you.

Imagine my fucking disappointment when you turn out to be the biggest cliché of all,

sitting there, googling yourself?

I googled myself, but I never cheated on you, never.

Cheating isn't just about fucking someone, Hank.

I got a dictionary in there that will differ with you.

Bill and I didn't even touch each other until we were dead and buried.

OK, are you trying to make me throw up now?

You're out there sticking your dick in anything that moves,

trying to get back at me, which is fine.

Do you know what the worst thing is?

You're not writing.

You have this gift. You have this incredible talent.

And you're just flushing it down the toilet.

Maybe you're right.

No maybes. You are right.

I'm fucked up right now, and I...

I need help.

I do.

- I need you, baby. - No, no, no.

Hank, Hank, I'm getting married.

- What? - He asked, and I said yes.

Why the fuck would you do something like that?

Because I love him.

- No, you don't. - Yes, I do.

- You do not. - Yes, I do.

- You don't. - How do you know?

Cos he's a fucking dial tone.

He's everything you said you never wanted.

I'm sure he means well and everything.

I may be fucked up right now, but I can see it.

He's not the guy for you. I can see that.

- How do you know that? - Because I know you.

Now, don't I get some say in this?

No.

Are you sure? Because it seems like I should, maybe.

Hey.

Well, I guess that's it, then, huh?

- Yeah. - OK. All right. Well...

Best of luck in all your future endeavours.

- Oh, thank you. - Yeah.

Good night, honey.

Please don't use the word "vagina" around me ever again.

And don't forget to let me know where you're registered.

Oh, that's so sweet.

And don't let the door hit you on your soon-to-be-huge ass on the way out.

Just shut up and kiss me.

Make me forget about tomorrow.

Talk to me.

Hey, baby, what's up?

No, I'm at the movies.

Hey, come on, buddy, give me a break.

I swear I called the house. I talked to your mother.

- What the fuck, man? - What's up, baby girl?

The asshole you're calling is gonna have to call you back.

Yes, sweetheart, sometime after the movie, all right?

Give me the phone.

You know what? You don't touch the phone, OK?

Stupid guy.

Don't do it.

Baby, I'm sorry, but some stupid guy, he takes the phone from me.

He freaks out like he's Mel Gibson or something.

Forget about it, baby. Forget it. Cos you know who I am!

I don't care if I'm at the movie theatre...

Fuck, man!

Come on, take it.

Next time, put it on vibrate, homey.

Get him!

Fucking turn it off!

God forbid you should miss a fucking call.

Dick.

Fucking piece of shit!

What are you doing?

What do you mean? You were just, like, calling me over.

No, I was, like, totally ambivalent.

Listen, you better get up because my boyfriend will be back any second.

You're weird, kid.

I am. I'm also just kidding.

- Have a seat, please. - What if I don't want to now?

Fine. Your loss.

Why would I want to get to know a guy who's so in love with himself

that he hangs out in bookstores reading his own work?

If you're under the impression that I'm in love with myself,

then it's possible that you are higher than me right now.

Oh, is someone battling some low self-esteem?

Oh, you have no idea.

Hmm. Poor baby.

Hank. My name is Hank.

I know. Mia.

- Nice to meet you, Mia. - Likewise.

- Can I ask you a question? - Sure.

Did you... see that movie?

- Yeah. - And what did you think?

- Honestly? - Yes, brutal truth.

It really sucked.

The director ruined it, and he should be shot.

Oh, I took care of him already.

So, you're, like, this famous writer, huh?

Hardly. More like a one-hit wonder.

Well, now I'm definitely, for sure,

absolutely... not going to sleep with you.

Are you gonna come?

I don't see why not.

Whoopsy.

I'm happy to report that Becca is a delightful student.

Smart, inquisitive, full of life.

Yet I sense a big, hairy "but" lurking somewhere around the corner.

- This is my life. Can you take those off? - No, it's OK. He's right.

But I'm slightly worried about her emerging sexuality.

Oh, thank God.

She's a lesbian. Thank God.

What are you talking about?

I think we can all agree, by and large, that men are assholes.

I, for one, am happy that she prefers the fairer sex.

It looks like we're the proud parents of a lesbian daughter.

Up high. Celebrate. Come on, don't leave me hanging.

What? You're ashamed of our gay daughter?

What happened to your eye?

OK, hold on a second here, folks.

Becca is not a lesbian.

- She's not? - Based on what I've seen, no.

Then why are we discussing her sexuality?

Because it seems she very recently discovered the attention of boys.

- Well, she's beautiful. - She takes after her mother.

The make-up and the slutty clothes.

I caught her making out with this boy last week, and he...

- He was what? - Feeling her up.

She's 12 years old. There's nothing there to feel.

You know, I don't see why we should put such a negative spin on this.

I mean, she's growing up. It's only natural. I'll talk to her.

No, no, no. No. I will talk to her.

No, because you're just gonna lose your shit.

You'll talk to her, she'll wind up pregnant,

and then everything will be fine and fucking dandy.

Oh, my God. You're such a fucking asshole.

I only bring it up because

when I told her it was inappropriate behaviour, she said,

"How else do you get boys to like you?"

So...

I... have an offer for you!

Forgive me. I haven't heard that one in a while.

Don't get too excited.

I wish you would have said that before all the blood started rushing to my cock.

Lovely. Thank you for that image.

- Are you familiar with Hell-A magazine? - Hell, no.

They would like you to blog for them.

Fuck me. It must be my trick ear, but I thought you said blog.

The good people at Hell-A are very interested

in your thoughts on the battle between the sexes

in this adopted city of yours.

Do you have a gun?

Well, you know, I did have a very hot dream about a nun the other night.

- Gave me a blow job. - There you go. A nun and a blow job.

- This is excellent, excellent. - You think?

Doesn't take Freud to figure it out, but...

Hank, Hank, Hank, have we established that you have a certain predilection

for the company of unavailable women?

- No, we haven't established that. - I've established it.

And what would be the ultimate manifestation of such a fetish, hmm?

Perhaps getting a blow job from a woman who is essentially married to God.

Can't it just be that it's naughty?

What... what the fuck is going on with you, man?

How... how are you?

I'm fine. I'm... I'm...

I'm disgusted with my life and myself, but I'm not unhappy about that.

- How are you? - Excellent.

OK, as your friend and agent, may I simply suggest

that you maybe try to start looking for a nice girl?

I wouldn't even know what to say to a nice girl at this point.

You're about ten seconds away from sitting down to dinner with one.

- That's not cool, man. - I'm naughty, too.

- No, you're a motherfucker. - My wife.

Boys.

- So... Hank. - Meredith.

You're a writer?

Once upon a time, I was, yeah,

in a little place they like to call New York City.

I've heard of it.

- He's still a writer. - A great writer.

No. See, that's where you're wrong.

Writers write. That's what they do.

Me... not so much. Nothing. Nada.

Have you written anything I might have read?

Well, that depends on whether or not you read, Meredith.

- I read, Hank. - Excellent.

Most recently, I gave man-birth to a weighty tome called God Hates Us All.

It's a catchy title, no?

Which was subsequently turned into a movie called...

A Crazy Little Thing Called Love.

The one with Tom and Katie? I loved that.

- Swell. - That was such a sweet movie.

You liked it?

Congrats, Hank. You must be really proud.

Like you wouldn't believe.

- Meredith, tell me about yourself. - What would you like to know?

Well, just the Cliff Notes would be fine.

Well, I don't know, Hank. You seem to have me all figured out.

- Why don't you give it a try? - No.

Why don't we order a little something? Some wine?

Honey, trust me. Getting your asshole bleached would be much more fun.

- Is there a waiter, perhaps? - I don't think you want me to do that.

Sure, I do. Tell me a little bit about myself.

That's what writers do, right? They make up stuff.

Come on. It will be fun.

OK, I think you were born in the Valley...

a nice part, though, Hidden Hills, Calabasas, something like that.

Your father was middle management, white-collar executive.

Stay-at-home mom.

You didn't want to stray too far to go to college, so you went to USC.

Or UCLA? No, no, SC. SC.

You had a serious boyfriend in college. You broke up right after.

He married the next one.

You got a low-maintenance gig in the human-resources industry,

had a string of bad relationships.

You put on some weight.

You looked around, and you saw all your friends starting to get married.

So you decided you should lose the weight. You joined a gym. Maybe did a little running.

You say you want to work. Maybe start your own party-planning business.

You fancy yourself kind of a poor gal's Martha Stewart.

But what you really want to do is sit at home

on the couch with some poor sap, watching reality TV

while he watches you get fat again.

OK, Hank.

Now, you're giving me that look right now... a look like I finger-banged your cat.

But what you really think is,

"If I manage to get out of here, I can still make it home in time

"to watch America's Next Top Model."

Which I have TiVo'd, I swear to God. That show is fierce.

- You're a real prick. You know that? - Guilty as charged.

I thought she liked me. I thought it was going well.

Sweet. Get in a fight...

- She did ask for it. She asked for it. - Totally, and she got it.

Go home, honey. Sleep it off.

Tomorrow's another day.

What's wrong? What's wrong?

I just thought you were gonna hit me.

Why?

No reason. As you were.

- Defile me. - Right on.

Yeah, hello?

Not the best time, no.

Oh, shit.

OK, OK. I'll be right there.

- Are you kidding me? - Consider yourself defiled.

You're an asshole!

- Where? - Somewhere up in the Palisades.

All right.

- Who did she go with? - Bill's daughter.

I didn't know Bill had a daughter. How old is she?

- 16. - And you let Becca hang out with her?

She's the one that called to tell me that Becca was in trouble.

What?

You smell like pussy.

Thank you.

As you were.

No. No.

Becca, Becca!

I hate you.

All right. I guess I deserve that.

No one deserves that.

You want to come in?

What about the lord of the manor?

- He's out of town. - Oh. Sure.

Wash the pussy off.

OK. That happened.

- It was gonna happen sooner or later. - Do you think I was wrong?

No, you did exactly what I wanted to do, which doesn't make it right.

I just reacted. I just picked her up.

Yeah, well, you've always been a walking id, Hank.

Which, oddly enough, is the title of my next novel.

What next novel?

Hey, let's just talk about Becca.

- It's all kind of the same thing, isn't it? - You called me.

Yeah. Your daughter was in trouble. I thought you should know.

Bullshit, you were alone, and you freaked out,

- and you wanted me to handle it. - I want you in my life, Hank.

Because you're still in love with me

and you want to have, like, 10,000 more of my babies.

No, it's because what happens to Becca is our responsibility,

and, like it or not, we're tied to each other for life, minus the obvious...

Sexual benefits.

You seem to have that pretty well covered.

Don't sell yourself short.

As I recall, our problems did not extend to the bedroom.

You stop.

We just kind of sucked at everything else.

Oh, we were great once, and you know it.

Hank, I...

What are you doing?

Marry me.

What?

Don't marry him. Marry me.

Oh, Hank, don't fuck with me.

I'm not fucking with you. I don't work without you.

Oh, I get it. You... you... you want your muse back.

You'll save me, and I'll save you.

I fucked up. I think we fucked up

in matters big and small, and I never asked you.

I'm asking you now.

Marry me.

You so want to get with me right now.

- Oh, I'm so sorry. Are you OK? - Yeah.

This is Mia, Bill's daughter. And this is Hank.

You two know each other?

No.

Well...

I do... recognise you.

- No. - Yeah. Sure, I do.

- No. - From your book.

- Your picture is on the back. - Right.

How is she?

Well, she hates us. She's fine.

Hey, that was really cool what you did tonight.

It's nice to see some good, old-fashioned family values

in this morally bankrupt city of ours.

That's me. I'm all about the family values.

What happened to your eye?

Yeah, what did happen to your eye, Hank?

Well, you should see the other guy.

Well, I hope she doesn't press charges.

It's not a she. It's a he. The other guy.

Right. Well, whatever. I'm off to bed. Good night.

- It was nice to meet you, Hank. - Nice to meet you, too.

- She seems nice. - She is. She's great. She's a good kid.

How old might she be?

- She's 16. - 16? Wow. 16.

I know what you're thinking.

No, I don't think you do.

Give me a break.

Your jaw was practically on the fucking floor, Hank.

- You're such a dirty old man. - No, I'm not.

Oh, I'm just fucking with you.