The Script & The Sherpa

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Meat Is Murder

We begin with a yoga class. Great, this should be full of clever funny jokes about L.A. that we've all seen done a million times. Can't fucking wait. It's not that I don't think the show has nothing interesting or funny or original to say about L.A. so much as I know that it will refuse to do so. Jokes you've already heard eight times are always safer. And isn't that the point of HBO? We pan across Drama on an elliptical, Eric on an elliptical, and Turtle who is of course not exercising because he's fat and gross and that's funny. He is playing with a gadget, like a Blackberry Palm Bluetooth kind of thing that was obsolete before this script was written, and complaining that Vince said "she" was only staying a couple nights of nights, and "a couple is two." Drama interjects some unrelated and timeless comedy: "Except in fucking Utah." (Certain unofficial bastard sects of) Mormons! Are! Polygamists! Funny! Cut to Vince rolling up his mat -- like a total douche bag, it's a great comedy shot -- and Turtle's like, this is sad. Drama bitches about how "she thinks she's his fucking trainer." Turtle immediately bites back with an "um, so do you." Drama pays the price, ultimately, for this scene, when he jumps down from the treadmill all, "What the fuck did I get certified for then?" Eric tells him to relax, and Turtle gets up in E's grill that "It's all a big joke to Eric because he's been spending the night off-campus at Emily's." Oh, okay. Fifteen questions flood my brain and we're five seconds in. "'Off-campus'?" and "What day is this? When was the last episode in relation to this one?" are the main ones. Drama goes all, you guys are going to get girlfriends and fuck things up -- just like Vince did with Eric last week -- and Eric says, "Quiet, here they come." And honestly? I am not joking. I thought he meant the girlfriends? Like they were being delivered. That's how shitty this show is, like I lose my own ability to reason as a result of watching it.

Drama asks Vince and the Unnamed She, disgustedly and with an unhgh sound at the beginning, how their yoga went. They loved it and they are so in love and it's stupid. Drama asks if Vince is ready for an actual workout and Vince says, very hilariously, "No weights. I just had a mean stretch." They turn to walk off and Kevin Dillon -- the guy that weighs about seventeen pounds? -- stretches his matchstick arms to the sky and yells, "You gotta lift weights if you wanna put on size, man!" My italics, no need to say why. Actually, though, it's funny. Fiona tries to bug, all bulk is so '90s, Johnny! It's all about flexibility, don't you think? but more like the script says, "She says something dumb that a real man would never say." In addition to totally contradicting what he just said and asking him to agree to its opposite, like some kind of retard, she's also got right here a bad voice, bad line reading, bad everything, bad Vince arms around her neck from behind in that hot strangly boyfriend way I hate. Weird how much I'll grow to like this character in the next, uh, twenty-six minutes. Turtle and Drama agree that they don't trust new-agey bullshit "even if it is attached to an ass like that."

Some blandly good-looking, thick-waisted DeLuise kind of guy randomly walks by pounding his boxing gloves together and he's all, Yo Eric what up dog. I mean it, that's what he says. Great. "Who's that jerkoff?" says Drama, but Eric has no clue. You're about to get a big one, I say, because I've seen this episode before. Cut to some big boy's backside filling the entire screen with a bit of assne, and then the DeLuise we don't recognize is all asking if Eric wants to "roll with" on his trip to some baseball game. Now, I don't spend a lot of time in locker rooms. In fact any. Regardless of what the Delaware PD says. (Pervert jokes are so in right now! We watched this awesome program last night on Discovery Health about sex addicts where the most surprising people said the most surprising things, and it was kind of sad but highly quotable!) But so I swear to God I would have dropped my duffel bag and vaulted out of the room if the DeLuise junk got that close to my face in a locker room with other dudes around. You know what I mean? Awkward. Especially if the fellow was asking me to a baseball game all, "So I got company seats, you like it?" There's a fucking time and place, is what I'm saying. So then just in case his proudly-presented genitalia and very-aggressive-for-a-stranger behavior sent the wrong signals to old Eric, he immediately says that the girls from The L Word will also be "rolling with," and he's all, trust me, they're just acting. Oh right, like straight people ever play gay people or vice versa. I'm so sure. Why not have a raccoon play a pterodactyl, while you're at it. Sicko. There's some kind of meta-deal here, I think, about gay vs. non-gay vs. parasite, but whatever. I can't be bothered. Don't get all gayed up on me in the locker room and then do a last minute take-back about TV lesbians. You'll foil all my plans to be gay with you. Wait, who the hell are you?

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