As the Funky Bunch make their funky way through virtually the exact same crowd of well-wishers into the party, Vince grabs Eric for a tiny ego-pump, and Eric obliges that the film was "off the charts," without even turning his head to look at Vince. Which is too bad, because it's very satisfying to see the worry and stress fade from his face upon these words, because he trusts Eric implicitly. Whew, that was a rough 45 seconds of uncertainty, he thinks. Some girl I could swear has already walked across the screen ten times gets a picture with Vince, and over her shoulder he asks Eric how much longer they have to stay at the premiere party. Eric tells him the order of things, mingling, drinking, and schmoozing, and tells him to immediately go take a picture with "Alan," who of course Vince doesn't recognize, because Eric's in charge: he's the "guy that financed the fucking movie, Vince. Come on." There is a slight contretemps about whether this is the financier with the "hot daughter" or the "gay son," and I'm sure we all know who they're talking about by now, right? No? Me neither. That's why it's an inside joke, you guys. So the people on either coast who heap lavish praise over the gaping mouths of their Golden Globes gift bags can feel smart and talk about it at their next cupping appointment: "Did you hear what they said about Alan? Very droll. I'm totally voting for Entourage the second I get my Emmy ballot. I belong. I feel good about myself. I'm such a total insider. Now get to cupping! Suck out every single one of those bad humors, Maria-Elena. I'm sure as fuck not going to have more toxins in my body than Gwyneth, and I need gross Inquisition bruises all over myself to prove it. 'Macrobiotic,' my ass."
Turtle explains to -- okay, look. There are five girls in Hollywood, apparently, that I can tell apart. The same is true for Turtle. So I'm going to call them all, collectively, the Miutrix, after my favorite socialite. So Turtle tells the Miutrix that Vince always goes "night swimming" after every premiere. Meanwhile, across the room, the Miutrix sweetly gives Kevin some much-needed validation: "That was you?" To which he responds by shadow-boxing for her enjoyment. Talking, talking, nobody I recognize...if this were Curb Your Enthusiasm, we would have seen fifty people by now in a shot this big. If this were Dr. Katz, we would have seen at least ten. Maybe they're all industry types, but I think they're too pretty. They're all drinking beer out of bottles, and so far this is the only indication we're not watching something set in New York City. Oh, wait. The palm trees. And the trucker hats, too, but those are implied by the bottles of beer.
PIVEN ALERT! Ari approaches Eric and immediately asks where Vince is. They're moderately friendly with each other -- there's kind of a conspiratorial hint in the air as Ari castigates Eric over the fact that Vince has still not read the script for a movie called Matterhorn. He also seems a little desperate and curses a little. He promises Eric courtside seats in the near future if he can get Vince to read the script. Turtle approaches, and I hope the claws come out, but Ari just greets him abruptly and parts with a final demand that Vince read the script tonight. Which is so obviously not happening, but whatever. Eric is cool here, you can tell he's dealt with Ari before. And not only that, you can also tell he's as good at playing the game as he is memorizing names and faces. I [HEART] Eric. Turtle gets a little attitude about Ari, after he's safely gone, but swings quickly into some gross. "I'm on ass patrol! I got a six-pack, one of them kind of looks like Kristen." That is believable, yes, that someone would say that, but it's not gross enough, somehow. He's a little PG-ified. This whole show is a little PG-ified. I'm not saying I want one of them in the gutter outside the Viper Room -- although if it were Turtle I could handle it -- but this so far is like a Spelling version of a day in the life of DiCaprio, or as Variety described it, Hollywood reimagined as a rap video. Eric asks, as though he needed the clarification, whether Turtle is an asshole. "I'm just saying: revenge fuck." So, um, yes, Eric. Turtle also managed to obtain the knowledge from the Miutrix that she "loves to give head," and since he knows Eric "desperately" needs it, blah blah blah. Eric questions the veracity of this statement, but Turtle says that the healthy individual we're discussing only divulged this information to him after he first admitted that he loves Derek Jeter. Which, what? And secondly, I'll say right now that if all it takes is a love of Derek Jeter to...never mind. I can't think where I could possibly be going with that sentence. Turtle's driving again, I guess.