All language subtitles for two.and.a.half.men.s03e05.hdtv.xvid-tcm.vo

Why do you have to leave?

Charlie,
I have to get home.

I have to feed my cat.

I have to feed my fish.

We've been in bed
for three days.

I'm guessing the cat's fed and what's
left of the fish is in the kitty litter.

Well, I also have a job.

Call in sick.

I did it yesterday.

Okay, call in horny.

I'll write you a note.

I wish I could.
I love being with you.

Me, too.

And having you here
just makes it all the better.

You know, we've been seeing each
other for over two months now,

and you've never spent the night
at my place.

Okay, well, go clean up the dead animals
and I'll come over tonight.

Deal.

I'll cook you dinner.

Great.

I think I love you,
Charlie Harper.

Thank you.

I'll see you later.

Wait a minute.

Did you just say "thank you"?

Did I?

Yes, I said "I think I love you,"
and you said "thank you."

What's that supposed to mean?

Thank you?

It's an expression
of appreciation.

Thank you.

That's it?

You don't have anything to add?

Thank you...

so very much.

Great, that's-that's great.

I open my heart to you
and you coudn't care less.

Well, that's not fair.
I could care less, a lot less.

Oh, come on, what do you want me to do?
Lie to you?

No, I want you to drop dead,

you smug, cold-hearted
son of a bitch.

Phew, that could have been ugly.

Episode 3x05
We called it Mr. Pinky

Hey, guess what happened
at school today.

You made the honor roll.

What's that?

Forget it.

What happened at school?

Well, there's this girl.

Okay, now
I'm listening.

Her name
is Robin Newberry.

Name's not important, proceed.

She gave me a cupcake.

Yeah, so?

I think she likes me.

So what's the problem?

Now I think she thinks
I like her back.

Do you?

I didn't think I did, but it was
a really good cupcake.

Wow.

What a perfect metaphor.

No, it was a cupcake.

Okay, blank slate,
listen up.

I'm going to tell you something that
will serve you well for your entire life.

Like when you're peeing outside
always face down wind?

Better.

By the way what de hell
were you thinking ?

I was thinking
"Boy, I hope that's really warm rain."

Okay, okay.

Let's focus
on today's lesson.

Never ever confuse cupcakes with love.

But I love cupcakes.

We all love cupcakes.

That doesn't mean you have
to love the baker.

Her mom baked it.

You're missing the point.

Robin just helped
with the icing.

Okay, okay.

She made a smiley face
with Red Hots.

I get it.

I'm just saying that when someone
freely gives you her cupcake,

your only obligation
is to enjoy it.

There's no reason to get
emotionally involved.

Why not?

Because, if you do,
the next thing you know,

you'll be stuck eating the same
damn cupcake for the rest of your life.

But it was
a really good cupcake.

I can't stop thinking
about it.

Yeah. I've had cupcakes like that.

But the thing you've got to remember is,
there'll always be other cupcakes.

And if the day should come when you
find yourself in a cupcake drought--

and those days come,
don't kid yourself--

well, then you just shell out
a couple of bucks for a nice Ho-Ho.

Understand?

I think so.
Thanks, Uncle Charlie.

No problem.

Hey, what are you
guys talking about?

Sex.

Well, how about that?

The booger-eater
grasped the symbolism.

You were talking to my son
about sex?

He came to me
with a cupcake problem.

I thought it was about sex.

I was using cupcakes
as a metaphor.

Jeez, the kid got it.

Okay, walk me through
the metaphor.

Some little girl
gave him a cupcake.

Okay, okay, stop.

Gave him a cupcake?

Are we talking baked goods

or are we talking some new
hip-hop slang?

Baked goods.

I told him it was okay
to enjoy the cupcake,

without feeling emotionally
obligated to the girl.

So in essence, you just told my son
it's okay to have sex with a girl

without having any feelings
towards her?

Lucky for us he asks me stuff
I know about.

There's no "us" here.

There's no "lucky."

That's a terrible lesson.

Hey, I could have done 20 minutes
just on licking the icing.

But I took the high road.

Okay, okay, enough.

Here's the deal.

From now on,

all cupcake conversations
will be referred to me.

Why?

You don't know the difference
between a Ding Dong and your elbow.

Nevertheless,

I do not want him learning about
relationships from a misogynist.

A misogynist?

You're saying I'm
a misogynist?

Yes, Charlie,
you are a misogynist.

- I'm a misogynist.
- Mm-hmm.

I'm a misogynist.

That is really low, Alan,

calling your own brother
a misogynist.

G-I-N or G-E-N?

- G-Y-N.
- Thanks.

I do not hate women.

Oh, come on, Charlie.

If anything, I am
the opposite of a misogynist.

I'm a... pro-sogynist.

I love women.

Oh, is that so?

Even if there's no possibility
of having sex with them?

What?

Exactly.

And it is precisely that attitude that
I do not want my son to grow up with.

Okay, okay.

Hold it just a second.

So you'd rather he grow
up to be like you?

Scared of women,
manipulated by women?

That's not true.

Oh, please,
look at your ex-wife.

Say what you want
about me,

but at least
I've never chosen

to have women in my life who
do nothing but mistreat me.

Hey, stud!

I don't know what kind
of sick, twisted party

you had in your bedroom
the last couple of days,

but I sure as hell
ain't cleaning it up.

That is different,
way different.

Hey, Dad, what time is it?

Uh, 20 after 6:00, why?

'Cause I have to call
my girlfriend at 6:30.

Um, w-what girlfriend?

Robin Newberry.

Cupcake Robin Newberry?

Charlie,
stay out of it.

How can I stay out of it?

If I saw a bus heading for him,

would I not throw myself
in front of it to save him?

- Would you?
- I'm just making a point here.

Charlie, if you don't mind,
I'll handle it.

Jake, I thought we talked
about this.

Yeah, you said I shouldn't take a cupcake
from a girl if I don't like her.

That's right.

So I decided to like her.

We're exclusive.

Exclusive?

That means I don't talk
to other girls

and I get a cupcake
every day.

I better call now.

If I'm late, she yells at me.

Congratulations,
Alan.

You're son
is officially pastry-whipped.

Marco!

Not now, Rose.

Marco!

Rose, I'm not in the mood.

Marco!

Polo.

Hey, Charlie.

Hey.

Is something wrong?

I'm not sure.

Rose, do you think
I'm a misogynist?

Oh, wow, yeah.

Did somebody say
you weren't?

Marco!

How can I be a misogynist?

My whole life is a testament
to my love for women.

Oh, it's sweet
that you think that.

But what you call love

is really just an obsession
to control and dominate

based on mistrust
and hostility.

Yeah, so?

You forget I spent the night
with you once.

You don't make love
to a woman.

You overpower her.

You subjugate her.

You...

ravage her.

Anywho, it obvious you're still trying
to resolve long-standing Oedipal issues.

Hold on.

O-E-D...

You sure?

Yeah, I have a masters in psychology
and I know how to spell.

I have a masters in psychology
and I know how to spell.

Here it is, Oedipus complex.

Okay, that's what I thought.
That's just sick.

Unconscious, unresolved sexual feeling
towards my mother?

I didn't write the dictionary,
Charlie.

But it's not true.

I despise my mother.

Consciously, yes.

And that's why you conflate
sex and aggression.

It's textbook misogyny.

Conflate? Come on, what is it,
fancy word day?

It means
to join together.

Thank you.

So what are you saying?

You will never be able
to have

a trusting and truly loving
relationship with any woman,

until you resolve your feelings
about your mother.

Ah... broads have been
telling me that for years.

It's a lot of hooey.

It's okay, Charlie.

The world is filled with women
who seek out misogynists.

Women who need men
to mistreat them

and provide them with angry,
aggressive sex

in order to satisfy
their own twisted pathology.

I see.

Well, I guess I'll just have
to look for a woman like that.

Marco!

Thanks for giving me
another chance.

You were so darling
on the phone, I couldn't resist.

Look, I know I've got
some intimacy issues,

but I'm working
on them.

And if you could
just be patient with me,

I think you and I
could truly... conflate.

What's conflate mean?

Look, you don't
have to go.

Relax, Charlie.

All men have performance
problems occasionally.

No, no, no, no, it's not officially
a performance problem until we give up.

Right now it's just
unusually long foreplay.

I'm sorry, but I have
to get back to work.

Damn, my carpal tunnel's
acting up.

How about if I come with you?

We can give it a shot
in your car.

It's okay.
I still love you.

Thank you.

I mean, I really appreciate
your understanding

and support
during this dark time.

I'll call you.

What?

Nothing.

Go ahead, say it.

I, uh, I have nothing to say.

Except, you know...

ha-ha.

Oh, my.

Don't tell me I got
a rise out of you.

Alan, I am right on the edge.

Be very careful.

Sorry.

I didn't realize
it was so impotent.

You forget one thing.

Oh, what's that?

I can still run.

Yes?

Mom, it's me, Charlie.

I-I'm a little busy right now.
What do you want?

We need to talk.

About what?

About how I'll never be able to
have a meaningful relationship

with a woman because
of the way you screwed me up!

Oh.

Well...

sorry about that.

Let me in!

There's more?

Yes!

Will this having children thing
never end?

Mom!

Look, I'm sorry this is such
a major inconvenience for you but...

Oh, God!

What are you doing?

Downward Facing Dog.

What?

It's yoga, Charlie.

Oh.

Well, could your dog possibly
face upward while we talk?

Fine.

Aw, geez!

What the hell
is the mutt doing now?

Charlie, just say
what you came to say.

Okay, well, are you aware
that I'm a misogynist?

Really?

I raised you Episcopalian.

This isn't funny.

My anger and mistrust towards
women starts with you.

Which wasn't a problem until it
spilled over into my sex life.

So you're blaming mummy

because little Charlie
can't come out and play?

Okay, first of all, we don't
call it "little Charlie."

What do we call it, darling?

We don't call it
anything!

Well, when you were a baby,
we called it Mr. Pinky.

I may never have sex again.

Wait a sec.

Mr. Pinky was
the cat.

What did we call your penis?

It doesn't matter.

The point is, it
isn't working anymore.

And somehow it's all tied up in
some sick twisted knot with you.

Mr. Peepee!

That's it.

Well, you can see why I confused that
with Mr. Pinky.

Mom, I learned about relationships
from watching you.

And you know what toxic
little lessons I learned?

Tell me, sweetheart.

I learned that men who get
emotionally involved get stepped on.

I learned that men
who get married get emasculated.

I learned that the best way
to not get your heart broken

is to pretend
you don't have one.

- You learned all that from me?
- Yes.

Darling, I've never been more
proud of you than I am at this moment.

You're joking, right?

Not at all.

For the first time,
I look at you and I see myself.

Oh, that's just insane.

Save room for dessert.
I bought brownies.

No, thanks.

Brownies just remind me
of cupcakes.

His, uh, his little girlfriend
dumped him.

Really?

She said she needed
her space.

I'm sorry, buddy.

Want some advice?

Yeah.

What do I do,
Uncle Charlie?

I meant from me.

Oh.
No, thank you.

Well?

Might as well listen
to your dad, 'cause...

I got nothing.

Less than him?

Fellas, I am the sick puppy
of a downward dog.

The only thing I'm good for is drinking
out of a toilet and sniffing my own ass.

Which, by the way,
I saw our mother do earlier.

Okay, what do
you think?

- Marco.
- Oh, geez!

Don't do that.

Sorry.

Are you okay?

Oh, sure.

Everything I believed in
is wrong.

Everything I thought
I was, I'm not.

And Mr. Peepee's
on the fritz.

Mr. Peepee?

Yeah, that's what my mother
used to call...

Oh, don't make me
explain this, Rose.

Okay. But he's on
the fritz, you say?

Yes.

Well, I'm not surprised.

The depth of your pathology coupled with
the intensity of your denial,

was bound to manifest itself
physically, sooner or later.

In plain, simple English, Rose.

When your mind gets crazy,

Mr. Peepee gets lazy.

Let me put it another way.

When your psyche gets iffy,

you can't get a stiffy.

Stop it. Stop it.

Just tell me how I can fix it.

Well, there's no quick fix
when it comes to limp...

Rose!

No more rhymes.

Are you sure? I got a
beauty with "toner."

Okay. Well,

traditional
therapy can help,

but you'll have to commit
to a long, arduous process

of self-exploration over
a period of years.

Years?

I can't go years without...

Mr. Peepee.

Charlie, isn't your long-term mental
and emotional health

more important than
a few fleeting orgasms?

It's not even
more important than one.

Well, in that case,

I suppose we could try a
shortcut like hypnotherapy.

You know how to do that?

I studied it.

But for it to work,
you'd have to trust me completely.

You know, Rose,
as strange as it may seem,

of all the women
I know,

you're the only one
I trust at all.

Wow. Personally I find
that very flattering,

while professionally,
it's deeply disturbing.

So just relax,

sit back,
close your eyes,

and listen only to
the sound of my voice.

I just want to get my mother
out of my head, okay?

I don't want to quit drinking or gambling
or any of the good stuff.

Got it.

Okay. So just relax.

Oh, my.

I see everything's
back to normal.

Better than normal.

Did you take one
of those pills?

No, I don't need any pills;
it's all me.

And nobody else.

Now, why don't you just relax while
I introduce you to the new,

improved Charlie.

Who were you calling?

I was just ordering
a little chicken.

What smells so good?

Your kid's
in the kitchen baking.

You're kidding.

Hey, dad, want a cupcake?

Um, sure.

Uncle Charlie?

Thank you.

Have as many as you want.

I got another batch
in the oven.

It's, uh,
it's very tasty.

What, uh, what
prompted this?

I figured out I don't need
a girlfriend.

If I want a cupcake,
I just make it myself.

Taking matters into
his own hands.

The metaphore is now complete.

Anybody want to lick the beater?

- No.
- No.

What?

Transcript : Cfsmp3

Synchro: Amnesia

Corrections : nColas + Bouliii

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