I'm back,
and you're Black, which is cool. I'm a big fan of Black Jesus.
High five. Don't leave me hanging. There you go.
- Can I help you, my son? - Hey, padre.
No, I was just trying to check in with J.Z. up there.
Anything I can help you with?
Sure you don't have a grab-ass appointment with an Altar Boy?
There's plenty of time for that.
You checking out my package?
You don't want to suck my cock, do you?
Do you want me to suck your cock?
Do you want me
to want you to suck my cock?
- You want to tell me why you're here? - It's about a girl. She's beautiful.
She's smart and funny,
- up for all kinds of intercourse. - But she's not Karen.
- I didn't say that. - Karen doesn't love you, Hank.
She loves me.
With a gay priest!
Fuck me.
Has anyone ever told you you have a lot of bad dreams?
What's wrong with Black Jesus and a gay priest
just looking for a little oral to get him through his night?
L.O.L.
What was that?
What'd you just say just now? L.O.L.?
- "Laugh out loud"? - Yep.
That's a part of your lexicon? Really? L.O.L.?
Shouldn't it be part of yours, too?
You are writing for cyberspace, you know.
And there goes my boner. Wave bye-bye.
- What is your issue with "L.O.L."? - I don't have an issue,
unless you count the fact that every time you say it,
you're contributing to the death of the english language.
So, let me get this straight.
You're gonna let the fact that I just said "L.O.L."
get in the way of me giving you the best b.j. of your life?
Not when you put it that way.
Yeah, I'm not the biggest fan of the term "b.j." Either.
Baby, don't make me beg. We haven't had sex
since my last period. You know how fucking horny I get.
You can have the ass if you want.
You can keep it.
Last time we tried anal during the light of day...
Not pretty, remember?
You used to be all about the morning sex.
- What's going on with you? - I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry.
I'm really stressed out right now, okay?
It's work stuff, really.
I know.
- Pretend I'm paralyzed. - What?
- Come on. This will be fun. - You need to shoot some glue.
I'll just lay here. Do what you got to do.
I'll be your vessel.
What the fuck are you doing back there?
What? You don't like that?
No, I just...
You can't just go send probes into unexplored territory
without any advance warning. You know what I'm saying?
I was just trying to spice things up a little bit.
Things haven't been hot enough for you?
It was just a finger up the ass.
I could use the littler one.
I've got to get to work, okay? I'm gonna be late.
Love you.
Fuck off!
"B" to the "I" to the double "l."
What's up, my nig nog?
I need to talk to you.
Well, you should have called. I wouldn't have answered,
but you could've left a message, which I would have quickly erased.
Yeah, this isn't something I would choose to discuss
over the phone.
This is about Mia.
You're aware she's in high school, correct?
Really? No.
I mean, I-I was thinking she was older than that...
College, grad school maybe, something like that.
Quit fucking around, Hank. this is serious.
Shit, Bill.
I'm sorry, man. I'm really sorry,
and I... You know, this is just a fucked-up situation.
And it should have never happened, but nobody's to blame, really.
I mean, I'm glad, in a way, that you're here,
you know, so we can get on the same page, all right, man?
Your turn.
What are you talking about?
I don't know. What are you... It depends. What are you talking about?
Are you stoned or drunk?
What am I talking about? What am I talking about?
I don't know half the fucking time what I'm talking about.
I got to ask you a favor, Hank.
Fuck. Well, a favor.
Okay, this should be entertaining.
I was supposed to be the guest speaker at Mia's school today,
but I have to go out of town.
And this concerns me how exactly, Willamina?
Well, I was hoping that you might consider stepping in for me.
It's a creative-writing class, and...
I was gonna talk about publishing.
You can talk about writing or not writing
or whatever works.
And what's in it for me?
What do you want?
Call off the wedding.
Anything else?
That's a nice jacket.
You a smoker? There you go.
All right, so, at the end of day,
if you can do anything else... telemarketing,
pharmaceutical sales, or ditch digging,
major league umpire... I would suggest that you do that,
because being a writer blows.
It's like having homework every day for the rest of your life.
Any more questions?
Yikes. Yeah?
- Are you single? - Of course I am.
Who would have me?
I would.
Okay, girls, let's thank Hank for coming in on such short notice.
Cigarette break, everybody. All right.
- Dude, you're a fucking rock star. - Please. It's an all-girls school.
Anything with a half a cock and one ball is gonna get a rise out of these kids.
Tell me about it. Best job I've ever had.
- They're very young. - Oh, say that again...
Slower this time.
My... My fleshy T.A. didn't hear you.
Stop. Laugh it up, funny man,
but you could go to jail for that shit.
You're acting like it's a fucking Mommy & Me class.
These girls are right on the cusp of their womaninity.
What else is out there for guys like us?
- Guys like us? - I wrote a novel...
- Three of them, actually. - Oh, yeah?
They never came out of the drawer, but I fucking wrote them.
I wrote the shit out of them.
So, what do I do?
Write screenplays like the rest of the fucking herd?
Or do I fight the good fight and promote an appreciation of great writing?
And just fuck the ones who are just bored
and stupid enough to spread 'em for you?
Speaking of which, Mia
- is a seriously good writer. - Yeah?
She's written a couple good short stories, but nothing since.
But they're good.
Who knows?
Maybe I'm grading on a curve 'cause she gives me wood.
Not so much with the character development.
The prose was a little stiff. She was trying too hard, really.
Right.
Van fuckin' Halen.
Is there another motive ingress?
- Busted. - Oh, god, you don't understand.
I could've been there for hours.
Poor Hank Moody.
What's the deal with you and Mr. Chipwich?
- Meaning what exactly? - You know what I mean.
- Does he have carnal knowledge? - Yeah, that.
Not yet.
Be careful.
Says the much-older man who did sleep with me.
- It was an accident. - Right, there you were,
minding your own business, walking down
Abbot Kinney when your dick on me. Oopsie.
What is this? Open-mike night? Look, just be careful of him
and those of his ilk.
Hank moody, as I live and breathe,
- are you looking out for me? - Why wouldn't I?
Aside from the fact that you're mad as a hatter, you're a good kid.
Well, seeing as I can't seem to get you back in the sack,
I guess I'll just have to settle for him.
I'm sure he won't play as hard to get.
Out of the car.
Have a nice day at school, dear.
Bye, Hankarella.
How do I look?
Sweetie, you look great. But you know what?
It's a guitar lesson. It's not a fashion show.
Mother, rock, fashion... It's all one world.
Okay, Avril.
- He is cute. - He is?
- I hadn't noticed. - I look like a geek.
No, you don't.
It's okay. I'll get it.
Ladies.
Your shirt.
What? You're not a fan, are you?
That would make me so sad.
- I think it's cool. - Well, it's just, you know...
- Becca. - Yeah.
Right. Sorry about that.
- I wasn't thinking. - It's okay.
She's my youngest student
- and my most promising. - Oh, she is? Well, that's great.
I probably have some smelly, old thing in my car somewhere.
Or you could just turn it inside out.
You know, you could use the bathroom on...
Or not.
Hey... Dave.
Hey, sweetie.
- Better? - Much.
I liked it better off, but that's just me.
- How you doing? - Good.
You been practicing?
I'm here with Hank Moody,
author of celebrated underground novels
like South of Heaven,
Seasons in the Abyss, and most famously,
God Hates Us All. How are you, Hank?
I'm a little under the weather, but it's good to be here. Thanks.
Some folks have compared the wait for your next novel
to the decade-plus wait for the new Guns N' Roses album.
Which one do you think will see the light of day first?
Well, I certainly hope that I beat Guns N' Roses to the punch,
because I want to get on Oprah's book club.
I want that sticker from the book club.
I want to get on that show, and I want to ask her...
About that scene in Beloved where she squats and pees.
How many takes did she do? Was she method?
In all seriousness, your blog for Hell-A Magazine
is prompting a lot of underground water-cooler talk.
- It's great. - Thank you,
but it's really... It's more like pissing out of my ass
than anything else. You know, it's just...
things bother me, and I vent, I write it down.
What's your latest obsession?
Just the fact that people seem to be getting dumber and dumber.
I mean, we have all this amazing technology, and yet...
computers have turned into basically four-figure wank machines.
The internet was supposed to set us free, democratize us, but...
But all it's really given us is Howard Dean's aborted candidacy and...
24-hour day acces to kiddy porn.
People... They don't write anymore. They blog.
Instead of talking, they text... No punctuation, no grammar, L.O.L. this
and l.M.F.A.O. that. It just seems to me
that it's just a bunch of stupid people pseudo-communicating
with a bunch of other stupid people in a protolanguage
that resembles more what cavemen used to speak than the king's English.
Yet, you're part of the problem. You're blogging with the best of them.
Hence my self-loathing, you know.
Bar chords are tought, I know.
But once you master them,
all the secrets of the rock 'n' roll universe will be revealed...
Trust me.
Hold on a second. I have something for you.
- Wait right here, OK? - You got it.
Hey, how'd it go?
I'm sure you already know this,
but you have a really sweet kid there.
You know, you're preaching to the choir.
But thanks. it never gets old.
She's really into it, too, which is really cool to see.
Makes my job a pleasure.
Well, she comes by it honestly.
I mean, her dad is really into music...
- and I was in a band once. - I'd love to hear the stories sometime.
Excuse me.
Hello?
Hey, sweetie. How are you?
How was the flight?
And the hotel... is it okay?
Hey, yeah, hold on one second.
Where'd he go?
Breathe, honey. It's okay. he's just outside.
I got to go.
Um, Becca's just finishing her guitar lesson.
What the music that you love?
I am a sucker for Radiohead.
Got any exciting plans, this week-end?
- Got to rehearse with the band. - What do you guys sound like?
It's like Radiohead.
We got a killer bassist.
- Right. - Yeah.
- All those things. - All those things.
What's this?
I made it for you... some songs I like.
I thought you might like them, too.
A mix tape... cd.
No one's made me one of these in a long time.
Thank you, sweetie. I will treasure it always.
Same time next week?
Look, I don't want to take sides here,
but I want to say, for the record, categorically, never...
never stick a finger up a grown man's ass without warning.
Don't do it.
- Hi. - Thank you.
Write that down.
You know what? I've been with other guys.
And sometimes a little ass play is not only welcome, but it's appreciated.
Yes, I understand, but you got to be gentle with the brown eye.
Mr. Brown eye's a sensitive man.
Hey, sorry I'm late.
Found a redhead wandering the parking lot.
- Brought her in for you. - Sorry I'm late. stuck in traffic.
Listening to the radio... Very entertaining.
- L.O.L. - Yes.
So, have you been telling her what an airhead your new girlfriend is?
No, I was just about to.
I heard the interview, Hank.
Nothing like being the object of scorn and derision on public radio.
Well, that's the point, right?
Because it's public radio. Who's listening? So...
So, is this why his relationships don't last?
Because the girls can't live up to some ridiculous fucking gold standard?
What did you do today? did you get your hair done?
If you spent less time focusing on other people's flaws,
you'd notice you've got some of your own.
Speaking of flaws, Dodger game, Friday night?
- I didn't say that I didn't. - Great. You want to hear some?
- It seems like you want to tell me. - Yeah, I do.
You drink too much, write too little,
and the only exercise you get is in the bedroom.
You love women, but you hate yourself, so any woman
who actually really does like you is ultimately deemed a fool.
And seeing as that woman could pretty much be anyone,
this one is saying goodbye.
Hold on just one second. I seem to have hurt you, and I apologize for that.
But that's not what this is about.
This is about something else. Tell me what it's about.
"B.R.B.", Hank.
I will go and make sure she doesn't kill herself this time.
And by the way, getting all aggro about a little stinky pinky
is definitely a symptom of a much bigger problem.
Oh, jeez.
I don't know what she's talking about.
Bitches.
Intruder.
- What are you doing here? - You just spooked myself.
That was very cool, what you did today,
- talking at Mia's school. - Oh, yeah, can we
please agree right now to never send Becca there?
- How's my girl? - I'm good.
I've got a lot of work on, but, yeah...
I was talking about Becca, but I like where your head's at.
That's embarrassing. I just slipped into a past life for a second.
I still get my mail there.
I love your feet.
She's got a crush on her guitar teacher.
That's great.
At least it's not the captain of the fucking football team.
Is he crush worthy?
Does he bring out your inner rocker slut?
You know, he is pretty fucking hot, yeah.
- Should I be worried? - Isn't that Bill's problem?
Yeah, I don't know if Bill worries enough.
Whatever.
Hey, you think I might...
Take Becca out for some ice cream or something?
You could, but, you know, you just missed her.
- She's snoozing. Sorry. - Shit.
- Can I ask you something? - If you must.
In this... past life of ours,
was I mean to you? Did I ever...
Did I make you feel stupid?
You weren't mean, no.
But you can be pretty hard on people, Hank.
I wish it was different.
And so do I.
But it's not.
How is that girl from the fund-raiser?
She is pissed at me.
- She's not. - Yeah.
She'll get over it.
Is that Bill's jacket?
That's a long story. I got to go. Good night, foot.
You know, it's not fair to say "B.R.B" and then never actually B.R.B.?
But apology accepted.
Come here.
- Good morning. - Good morning.
I needed my black skirt.
That's understandable. It's probably hard
to be taken seriously in a courtroom when you're bottomless.
Though I would take you seriously.
I... also wanted to give you this.
Shit.
So, you're gonna blow this whole thing
my issues with the language of cyberspace?
What's this whole thing you're talking about?
We drink, we fuck, we watch old movies in your apartment.
Sounds fucking awesome.
You're just pissed 'cause I beat you to the punch.
You were looking for an excuse to bail.
So says you.
- But I guess we'll never find out. - I guess not.
He left his wife.
That's what this was about. Fuck.
In a way, I have you to thank.
- You really did rattle his cage. - Yeah.
Glad to be of service, Milady.
I just...
I just feel so used.
Shut up, we were using each other.
I love how you're taking the moral high ground here.
I'm sure that if I canvassed the West Side,
I'd find more than a few girls who feel used and abused by you.
You seem to think that I have this narrow perception of you?
But it's you with the narrow perception of me.
I love women. I have all their albums.
Shit!
I think I'd just feel better about it if I didn't think you were re-entering
this hopelessly dysfunctional relationship
with an aggressively mediocre white guy.
I've spent time with the man.
Time stood still.
This from someone who's still hopelessly in love with his ex... whatever.
Well, at least she's cool.
Okay, what are you... 4?
Perhaps... I don't know.
We just missed it, Hank.
In another lifetime, we would have been a scorching couple.
But in this one, we...
Missed it. Missed it.
All right.
Well, congratulations.
Best of luck in all your future endeavors.
And don't forget all the times I brought you to fruition. 33, to be exact.
And when married guy goes back to his wife,
which he will, I hope that you come try to find me.
I hope that you know where to look.
Face down in a puddle of your own sick? Still not writing?
L.O.L.
L.O. fucking L.
- Bye. - Bye.
You're quiet.
- I like quiet. - Yeah, me too.
As long as you're okay.
My heart hurts.
God, baby. Mine, too.
Is it boy trouble?
Me too. Well, girl trouble.
You want to talk about it?
I just want to know when it stops hurting.
Here's the deal,
and you won't wanna hear it, it's gonna sound like piss-poor parenting,
but if you're lucky, never.
Oh, what could ail thee, knight at arms, alone
and palely loitering?
The sedge has withered from the lake, and no birds sing.
Keats, La belle dame sans merci?
Is that the best you can do, dad?
How about something from this century?
How about... You got Dylan's Blood on the tracks?
You ever listen to that? Classic heartbreak album.
I can gift it to you on your Ipod.
- If you see her, say hello. - Dad...
- She might be in Tangier. - Dad...
She left here last early spring.
Is living there, I hear.