And we're back. "Ari's got my head all fucked up, he told me to take his mind off the review..." and again, fucking deal, Eric. Stop throwing it this way and that way. Just fucking take it. You're not accountable to this Marvin. You're in the driver's seat, fucking act like it. I'm hating on Eric so much right now. Marvin screams that they are all out of control and says that Kevin Dillon is spending $2500 monthly on "vitamin supplements" and we don't even go there, Marvin just points out that "nobody could take that many supplements and still fucking live," and it's kind of funny. Marvin and Eric scream at each other about Turtle's cell phone bill, and that ugly Entourage thing rears its cross-eyed head again: Premise #1 is that Turtle has a $1500/mo. cell phone bill. Premise #2 is that "you could get an unlimited plan for $200." Conclusion: "Get Turtle an unlimited plan!" Response: "I'll get him free weekends." Rebuttal: "Don't be a wiseass." Premise #1 is, of course, deeply flawed. I think I could talk non-stop from an airplane circling the globe and maybe...you know what? Never mind. Nobody cares. The people that made this crap happen in front of my eyeballs certainly don't give a damn, so why should we give them the satisfaction? Move on. Marvin throws Eric out of the office and reminds him to get his parking thing validated, because he loves money, because he's a Business Manager.

Some awful Strokes rip-off (which domain, through no fault of their own, now contains the Strokes) plays as Eric parallel parks some stupid hatchbacky looking car behind this other car, which is black and apparently a Rolls-Royce. Or so we're told by this random goatee guy (who on any other show in this arena would be famous or interesting instead of a two-line day player valet guy), who yells at Eric not to park too close, and then Eric tells him to calm down, and then they're at some eatery that could be famous or could be made up. The Urth Caffé? Shut up, Urth Caffé. I hope you're made up or I'm going to have to come beat you up. Turtle tells the Funky Bunch now assembled that he thinks they should move to "the Boo" and of course he means Malibu because this show is bound and determined to tick me off. ["I rented a Chevy Malibu once, and I called it 'the 'Bu.' Don't get up, I'll fire myself." -- Sars] I get worried because they are talking about real estate and that means they might...yep. They do it. Couldn't let it drop. Just couldn't do it. Kevin starts bitching again about, you guessed it, how he and Turtle have to share a bathroom. It is at this point that I contemplate turning off the television and just, you know, winging it. "So then they're at Urth Caffé and Christina Ricci shows up with vomit down her shirt and she thinks Vince is my friend Larry and Vince has to give her advice about turning her life around, and then they make a joke about Winona Ryder stealing things because that's so fresh and dangerous and then Jessica Alba gets Poor Little Ricci Girl a cab home, and then Ari walks up and he's got his cute highlights back so I'm good, you know, and so they all make out with the waitresses and there's a pool with a rope swing and Turtle does something gross but not that gross and they pretend to do some shocking drugs but not that shocking, and then it's over until next Sunday." And Jesus, but I was trying to emulate the show, and be boring like that, but it still turned out slightly more interesting. And that's not because I'm so interesting, it's because this show sets the bar incredibly high, in terms of nothing ever happening, ever.