Californication - First Season

Previously on Californication...

Ladies and gentlemen, Todd Carr...

who took my precious little novel, wiped his ass,

and transformed it into this Crazy Little Thing Called Love.

Ugh!

- Holy fucknuts! - Oh, shit!

What, don't you fuckin' knock?

You used to be all about the morning sex. What's going on with you?

- Anybody home? - Hey, baby!

Good afternoon, Mrs Runkle.

What do you want me to do?

Maybe you want me to make you wear a ball gag in your mouth.

- (Mia) You have to come get me. - I'm a little busy right now.

Asshole, my teacher... he's coked out of his mind,

and he's trying to get me into a threesome.

You want to go to the movies with us, Dad?

It turns out that was bald old Uncle Charlie,

- and he's going through a rough patch. - Uncle Charlie, huh?

- You cried wolf. - Maybe I just wanted to see you.

You're not in love with me, Hank. You're in love with the idea of love.

You're running for the hills.

Oh...

OK, this is exciting.

I'm ready. I'm all ears.

"Nothing gold can stay.

"Nature's first green..."

Stop. I just threw up in my mouth a little.

You had 20 centuries of halfway decent verse to choose from

and you're going with some minor Frosty?

I like it. It's short.

- And? - Bleak.

Hm. And?

- I saw it in a movie once. - (Chuckles) Oh.

Well, then, it must be good. Continue.

Well, basically it's about how nothing good ever lasts,

how, no matter what you do, it all just turns to shit in the end...

You know, like you and Mom.

Ah. Trenchant, if profane, literary criticism. It's an interesting take.

I will put that one on your tab, by the way.

But don't ever think that, honey.

Just because something is bleak doesn't necessarily make it true.

Hair.

Happy endings may get a bad rap, but they do happen.

And when they do, they're just as true as the unhappy ones.

So you're saying it is possible maybe one day you and Mom could get back together?

Of course. Anything's possible.

Yes, but is it realistic?

Who says we have to be realistic?

- Mom. - Oh.

Well, not to contradict your dear old mom,

who is both wicked smart and wicked wonderful,

but, no, we don't have to be... realistic, that is.

Not when it comes to love.

- (Dog farts) - Oh, jeez.

- Is that Yusuf? Oh. - (Knocking at door)

- Guess that's her. - Oh!

Got to change what I'm feeding that dog... or you.

- Hello, sunshine. - I'm double-parked, so I just got to grab her.

Then, by all means, skip the pleasantries. But can you do me a favour

and stop telling our daughter not to believe in happy endings?

What's next... no Santa Claus?

You gonna shit all over the Easter Bunny, too?

I think she figured out the Santa Claus thing already,

and I do believe in happy endings,

just not when it comes to the Ballad Of Hank And Karen.

Bullshit. We practically made out last week. That's nothing if not progress.

I hope to get to second base this week.

Oh, please. That was an accident.

- It was an accident? - Yeah.

- Your tongue just slipped into my mouth? - No, other way around.

The fact that you're making these lame excuses up

can only mean one thing... you're totally into me still.

- Oh, really? - Totally.

- Come on, honey. - (Hank) Goodbye, sweetie.

Bye.

Hey. Stay gold, Ponyboy.

There is no fucking soy milk!

Will you nut up and learn to digest dairy?

What the fuck is wrong with you?

Nothing a brand-new gastrointestinal tract wouldn't fix.

Bullshit. Here.

It's not vanilla, but you can punish me for that later.

I'll dust off the whips and chains.

Ha ha ha. Very funny.

Seriously. I've been a very naughty hausfrau.

You almost died from malnutrition.

These jokes are never gonna get old, are they?

What is a marriage, if not an opportunity

to mock someone through thick and thin

while simultaneously exploring your deepest, darkest sexual desires?

Yeah, well, let's say one day soon

we lay off mine and start discussing yours?

Yeah, like you could handle that.

Oh, oh, you want to try me?

I want to do it with a girl.

So, uh, what, this is something you, um, feel you might enjoy?

Yeah, sure. I hear it's nice, you know?

Getting a little work done by someone who owns her own set of tools.

But I wouldn't want to leave you out.

It seems more, I don't know, honest that way.

Honest... Right.

Don't you see what this means? This is a gift from on high.

This is a cosmic Get Out Of Jail Free card.

The whole thing was her idea.

I'm trying to mentally masturbate about it,

but an image of you keeps popping into my head, and that's a problem.

No, see, if I do this... if we do this thing,

then all this guilt I've been carrying around for weeks...

the massive, crushing guilt... poof, that is gone.

I am absolved.

I know you Hebrews do things a little differently,

but last I checked, a ménage à trois was not a pit stop

on the road to redemption.

This could save the marriage.

So can buying a beach house.

Or you could try adopting an incredibly good-looking African baby.

I hear good things about that.

Speaking of...

Oh, you got to be fucking kidding me. That cocksucker?

That cocksucker has the good taste

to want to option your blog for a nice chunk of change.

- So play nice. - How the fuck do you option a blog?

What is there to option? The title? The font?

Todd! Good to see you, man. Glad you could make it.

- Moody. - Carr.

I would stand, but that would expose my nether-regions to attack.

I got no beef with you, Moody. I'm here on business.

So I'm told by the Fredo Corleone of agents.

Although I can't for the life of me imagine what that business might be,

unless it's to discuss custody of our retarded love child.

Let the man talk, will you?

Todd here has a three-picture deal at Paramount.

He's looking to get his sack back with some seriously edgy material.

Well, I'm sorry, but my testicles are not available for time-share.

It told you this was a waste of my fucking time.

Do you know how much shit a guy like me had to take

for directing a frothy little romcom?

You think Antoine Fuqua returns my calls?

But I did it. I knocked that motherfucker into the cheap seats.

And I'm glad I did it. Do you know why?

Because it keeps the baby mamas in Juicy Couture?

No, hey, I'm not hating. I'm not judging.

- I got a little baby mama all my own. I do. - It's true. He does.

Hey, I'm sensing some common ground here. Do you remember Karen?

Yeah, she was way too fucking hot for this mope.

That's true. She is.

She also happens to be one fan-fucking-tastic architect.

Is someone looking to pimp out the McMansion in Baldwin Hills?

- I own a Ray fucking Kappe house. - Ray fucking Kappe, huh?

No shit. Guy has a hard-on for architecture bigger than Brad Pitt's.

Oh, colour me impressed.

What, a brother can't love modernism?

I like this. We're free-associating here.

This is nice. Lines of communication... wide open. Excellent.

Do you know why I wanted to work with you again, Moody?

When you're not wallowing in narcissistic despair,

you're the rarest thing this town has to offer...

Someone with some goddamn vision.

I thought it was cos you liked the feel of my balls on your knuckles.

Later, Runkle.

Well done, my friend.

I don't know. I feel like we bonded.

Who the fuck is answering my fucking phones if there's... oh.

- Oh. - Baby, where have you been?

I had a burst of inspiration.

- Come here, you. - Hello.

So I was talking to Dani here about our sexual problem.

- Our what? - She's totally in.

- Excuse me? - Her, me, you.

We had a little girl-to-girl chat on the subject,

and she agrees with me about the toolbox thing.

Oh, shit. I said "tool".

And "box".

OK, uh, Dani, could you give us just a second, please?

I believe my wife forgot to take her Librium this morning.

No problem, sir. So, um, hold all your calls?

Yes, Dani, hold all my calls.

Very good, sir.

Wife, have you lost your fucking mind?

This is perfect. It's exactly what we talked about.

Yeah, talked... as in hypothetical conversation.

- That's my fucking secretary! - So?

So, if it goes badly, I'll have to fire her.

Shit, if it goes well, I'd have to fire her.

Either way, I'm out one fucking secretary and up a giant lawsuit.

I thought you said she was God-awful?

They're all God-awful until you train them.

- Then they improve. - What, like dogs?

Come on. You're not gonna do this for me?

- I helped you out with your fantasy. - Yeah, badly.

Look, just... (Chuckles)

Just pick someone else, that's all.

- Like who? - I don't know... somebody, anybody.

Someone from the salon or I... what about Karen?

The prim reaper?

She's so tall... and Presbyterian.

The woman's a goddess. She's gorgeous.

I don't want to go where Hank has been.

He probably left booby traps up there like the Viet Cong.

Come on, baby... Please?