Meanwhile, Jessica Alba is so amazed at his lack of class ("You're talking shop? At my house? During my party?") that she seems poised the entire time on the edge of completely ripping him a new one, only barely covering it in friendly, flirtatious banter. It's delicious. It's that sushi moment from last week, again: if you took away everything about this show that doesn't work, you'd be left with a few core actors portraying complete characters (and the occasional Jessica Alba or Ali Larter, who are de facto complete characters by virtue of their objective reality) in scenes that describe, interrogate, or otherwise explore the world of Hollywood, its compromised values and diminished brain cells, its creative bankruptcy, and its position as arbiter of world stories and fashions, blah blah blah, the whole googlism of Hollywood has a place here, in this show of which we're only allowed tiny glimpses, spliced in thinly here and there between the dick jokes and Turtle crap. And here we are in week two, and I still don't see why that's such a huge fucking favor to ask.
Eric and Kevin do some shots and there's karaoke and I'm looking at my watch because I really just won't be watching Kevin Dillon karaoke. That's simply all there is to it. I have this deep psychological problem with watching people sing, like people I know? Or people who aren't singers? Like in Lost in Translation. Couldn't watch that part. That's like a slasher movie to me. Or on Angel, when they'd go to that bar and sing karaoke for the green Paul Lynde guy? Oh, that gave me the creeps so bad. It's like watching some kind of self-mutilation performance art. It's like Courtney on Letterman, that. As Kevin and Eric pants around about what Kevin will be singing, Faustino shows up. He looks the same as ever, but more so, like a sweating Daniel Clowes production of Death of a Salesman. They yell across a sea of foot-fetish video stars with prominent noses about why are you at this party and I knew you were going to fuck me and gender reversal exercises are for fags, et cetera. I'm going to start a running count of times Kevin Dillon implies that he is gay on this show, and the Vince Vaughn thing from last week is totally counting. Faustino's all, "Come meet my new girl" and all those watching who know about this stuff, viz. people other than myself, go into a tizzy about how Faustino is married to some chick so is this implying that he's a cheater, or is it that he's calling his wife his "girl," and to them I bring a message of peace: this was all written and produced in no time like the present, and the clues are in the music. It's all completely irrelevant.
Ari shows up and Eric is friendly because he just doesn't get it, and then Ari casually menaces him about how he told Marvin that Ari said that it was okay for Vince to buy the incredible automobile that cost a billion dollars, which he didn't, and then sort of offhandedly suggests that Eric never talk about him "behind his back again," or he'll have to artlessly "fucking kill" Eric, because he has insouciant "ears everywhere." And Ari runs off to railroad somebody else and Eric drinks his beer. Out by the pool, Justine Chipette is powerless before Vince's eyebrows and pot belly and slightly stoned demeanor and asks him almost subtly to initiate her into womanhood and he giggles weirdly. Turtle is still talking about the Rolls to one of those same hookers from when we got to Jessica Alba's bordello a thousand years ago. Eric, somewhat bothered by Ari's careless murder talk, has retired to the edge of the property, where he's looking out over the city, and is joined by Vince, who has apparently ditched Chipette in the time it took Turtle to say that both the front and back seats of the Phantom get warm at the push of a button. Not that it would have been interesting to see that or anything, I mean God forbid, but we're talking about the main character and the main plot of the episode, so it's surprising and a little jolting. Vince lost his virginity when he fucked Eric's cousin. Actually he fucked multiple cousins of Eric. Thank heavens we got to the bottom of that mystery nobody cared about.