"mama, papa, come and see my show." "we'll be in in a minute, sweetie." "mama, papa, come in here and see my show now." "it's a dancing show." "okay, time for the show, papa." "no, thanks." "i already saw three of her shows today." "they're generally not good shows." "mama, papa, come see my show now." "you know what works great, lucy?" "saying "please."" "okay." "or that works too." " now, you both sit on the bed." " okay." "and now, announcing the show of all the stars, and the show of the dancing girl who will dance a magical dance!" " yeah!" " and the first dance is" ""puppy, the pussycat."" "and are you ready for the show?" " yes, we are ready." " yay." "okay, and-- are you ready for the show?" "yay, we're ready, lucy." "please start." "and so i start it." "hey!" " yeah!" " yeah!" ""lucky louie" was taped before a live audience." "closed. come back tomorrow." "but it's not 5:00." "i still have 10 minutes." "it's friday afternoon." "you don't have any minutes." "oh, yeah?" "how about i complain to the corporate office?" "oh please, don't do that." "i'll come back tomorrow." " all right, man, so long." " hey, where are you going?" "it's not 5:00." "you still have 10 minutes." "i got a big weekend planned with kim." " oh." " what's up, cheese buckets?" "hey. i gotta pick up lucy, take her to her friends." "kim and i have the house to ourselves for the whole weekend." "oh, yeah?" "what d'you guys have planned?" "what do you mean?" "sex-- clearly we're planning to have sex." "oh. well, it's been awhile, right?" "i mean, you're probably gonna be all... overexcited and stuff like that." "um, do you something to think about so you don't pop so soon?" "why do you wanna hold off?" "i always try to come as fast as possible then get half my money back." "see you later, bro." "does that work?" "wow, thanks a lot, sis." "this is a lot of food." "yeah, jerry, i need this food to last you the weekend because louie and i wanna be alone for a couple of days." "what?" "you wanna be alone?" "why?" "because it's nice, you know?" "it's romantic." "oh... but the whole weekend?" "no, that seems like a long time." "jerry, just don't come over for a couple of days, okay?" " all right." " okay." "hey, which plate is for which day?" "here, you'll figure it out." "so you excited about the big weekend, huh?" "oh, yeah. just me and louie together?" "i mean, we hardly ever get to do this." " wow,ou baked him a pie?" " yeah," " i like to start with a pie." " oooh." "you see, he's ready to walk in the door, drop his pants and fuck me till monday, but the pie-- the pie slows him down." "and when he's done eating the pie-  yes, the whole pie-  hmm." "he goes into a sugar coma and then we start talking." "does the poor bastard ever get to drop his pants?" "oh, yeah, because when we talk, then we remember what we liked about each other and we become a couple again." "and it's great. and then everybody drops their pants." " ah..." " and then the next morning, i start all over again with bacon." "i tried something like that once." "i put a cupcake on my snooch and mike ate it." " oh, hey, tina." " hey, louie!" "i guess i'd better run." "bye, sweetie." "see you later." "yeah, okay." "bye, tina." " hi." " hi." " oh, okay, all right, all right." "easy easy easy." "i want you to sit down... just one second." "have a seat. i got something for you." "oh, wait a minute, i got something for you." "come over here." "ready?" "here you go." "oh." "okay." "yeah." "uh, is everything all right?" " yeah, fine." " well, you want me... to put these in some water or something?" "listen, try not to take this the wrong way, okay?" "but if we're gonna be married for the next 30 years, i need you to know that red roses are not my thing." "it's just i really don't like red roses." "okay?" "okay, yeah, i get that." "okay." "okay, well, um... can i critique how you just told me that?" "ahem, okay, it's not that big of a deal, i just think that you shou have thanked me for the flowers first, and then said the thing about the roses." " um... not really." " why not?" "because i've told you before that i don't like red roses, remember?" "oh, yeah, i guess i kind of remember that, but still it's a gift so i guess i don't think it matters what it is." "you should still thank me, right?" "yeah, but you see i don't necessary think i should thank you for giving me something that i've specifically told you that i don't like." "that's all." "okay, right." "yeah, but still..." "i was thinking of you so i bought you flowers." "you weren't thinking of me." "if you were thinking of me, you wouldn't have gotten me red roses." "oh come on, kim, i brought you flowers, that's a nice thing." "you say thank you." " what-- it's called "being polite."" "you know what would be polite?" "if, when i told you things, you actually listened instead of just watching my lips and waiting for them to stop moving so you can talk." "hang on, all i'm asking for here is a tiny bit of gratitude." " i said thank you." " no, you didn't." " i was standing with the flowers-- - i said thank you the first time you gave me red roses, remember?" "it was my birthday." "i said thank you and then i said very politely that i would prefer it in the future if you never again gave me red roses." "so either you didn't listen or you don't care, which is it?" "this is fucking retarded!" "i bought you flowers!" "so maybe they're not your favorite kind" " of flowers-- - no, i didn't say "not my favorite,"" "i said, "don't bring me red roses."" "what is wrong with you?" "are you allergic to saying thank you to people?" "how do you expect someone to thank you for giving them something they've specifically told you" " they don't want?" "!" " you know what's a better question?" "how do you get given red goddamned roses" " and turn around and act like this?" " act like what?" "like a fucking cunt." "kim?" "hey?" "are you mad?" "honey?" "look, i'm sorry i got angry, but uh, i think we should finish talking about this right now, i-- oh, thanks." "look, listen, i'm really sorry i lost my temper." "i didn't mean-- you just-- a pie-- you made me a pie?" "!" "oh, that's so nice." "thank" "why are you-- you totally ruined it." " hey, walter." " hey." "hey, do you have the time?" " 6:45." " thanks." "and and, uh-- do you have the day?" " it's friday." " oh." "still friday?" "man, i hate romantic weekends." "tsk... oh, hey." "um... how are you doing?" "are you all right?" "come on, kim, what's going o are you not talking to me?" "is that what you're doing now?" "i said i was sorry." "look, it's just that i felt like you were criticizing me, and that really hurt my feelings." "and then we started arguing and nobody was hearing what the other person was saying-- so to, you know, jar us out of a deadlock i called you a cunt." "well, you gotta admit at least i was trying to do something." "i was trying to move the argument forward." "all right, you know what?" "forget that." "that-- that was all bad." "just erase that." "let me start again." "i'm really really very very sorry that i said what i said." "it was mean and stupid and not a ce thing." "shouldn't have done that." "the flowers-- i still think that was kind of nice, though-- to bring them." "all right, you know what?" "forget the flowers and the back-and-forth name-calling." "just-- listen, be logical for two minutes-- the clock's ticking on our big weekend." "do you wanna waste the whole thing fighting?" "well, come on, this is stupid!" "so what?" "you got some flowers you didn't like, and somebody called you a name, boo-hoo." "and stop walking out of rooms. it's rude." "you know what?" "there's no winning with you." "you-- you set this shit machine in motion." "it didn't have to go this way." "now you're gonna ruin our whole weekend 'cause you won't accept my apology?" "well, i take it back. i'm not sorry about the flowers, and i'm not sorry i called you a cunt." "you know why?" "'cause you are a cunt!" "you're a cunt!" "cunt cunt cuntity-cunt cunt cunt!" "have some flowers, you cunt." "hey, louball." "listen, while you've still got your pants on, let me go grab my contacts case. i left it in your bathroom." "ooh, what happened there?" "hello?" "hey, can i come in?" "hey, uh, sorry again." "uh, ahem, i definitely shouldn't have said that." "uh, shouldn't have called you that-- the first time and the second time." "i'm only counting the second time as once even though i know i said it a bunch of times." "all right, so... can i sleep here?" "just sleep, obviously. i know nothing's gonna happen." "is it?" "so you're okay with that if i just-- you know?" "all right, okay, you stay here." "i'll go sleep in lucy's bed." "fuck!" "hey, good morning." "i made your favorite. it's turkey bacon and egg whites." "hey, you're not gonna eat that or-- oh, that ain't right." "well hey, i made you some tea also." "do you want some sugar?" "just say when." "wow, you like it sweet, huh?" "pyoomm!" "nyum." "yepah, yepah, yepah, yepah!" "pa-pan, pa-pan, pananan." "hey, i was thinking about fucking your sister, do you have a problem with that?" "no?" "all right, cool." "i'm gonna fuck her." "hey, did you know that every 15 seconds somewhere in america a man calls his wife a cunt?" "god, what's going on in this country?" "all right, you know what?" "i'd like to remind you that today is saturday, tomorrow is sunday and lucy's coming home." "if you wanna ruin our whole weekend doing this shit, then fine, you do it." "i'm not doing it." "i'm going out." "louie, can you tell kim that ellen said-- tell her yourself, she's not talking to me." "oh yeah?" "what happened?" "i got in a big fight with her and i called her a cunt." "oh!" " oh, man." " yeah. yeah, i know." " i called ellen that once." " really?" "what happened?" "wow, what did she get you with?" " a curling iron." " she really held it on there, huh?" "i'm just glad i got out of the tub, man." "hey, louie." "one more day." "hey, lucy." "papa, what are you doing here?" "i don't have to go home until tomorrow." "no, i know, i just felt like seeing you and saying hi." " is that okay?" " no, i don't wanna go home yet." "i'm not here to take you home. i just wanted to talk to you for a minute, jeez." "you said i could stay until tomorrow. i wanna play with francesca." "go ahead and play with her." "nobody's stopping you." "go away, you're not supposed to be here!" "fine, go have fun." "i just wanted to talk to you" " for five stinking minutes." " bye, papa, see you tomorrow." "hey, check it out-- the man with the golden cock." "what happened to your big weekend of sex?" "so what happened?" "did you fall in?" "that doesn't make any sense." "yeah, it does. it means your wife's pussy is so big that you fell in it." "that's a big pussy." " you guys are dicks." " so what happened?" "kim's not talking to me. the whole weekend went to shit." "i've been sleeping in lucy's bed for the last two nights." " what did you do?" " oh, she's got this thing about red roses, don't ask me what." "anyway, i forgot, and i brought her some." "she went totally ballistic." " 'cause you brought her red roses?" " yeah." "i brought her a huge bouquet and she threw 'em at me and callede names and threw me out of the house." "oh, that's not cool." " right?" " and now she's not talking to you?" " yeah." " sounds like you're the one that should be mad." "i know, that's why i called her a cunt." " whoa!" " whoa, hey!" "are you crazy?" "they don't like that." "it's a tough one to come back from." "you gave that shitty marriage every chance, lou." "it's not that i was mad that she didn't like the flowers, i wanted her to thank me. i know i shouldn't have called her that, but she should have thanked me, right?" "i don't know. not if she doesn't like them." "are you kidding me?" "of course, she should have thanked you." "red roses?" "red roses?" "had she told you before that she doesn't like them?" "what is she, stupid?" "red roses are the universal internationally-recognized symbol of "i love you." everybody knows that." "what's her problem?" "she can't argue with red roses." "they're in-fucking-disputable." "you know what i think?" "you hit a home run with cunt, my friend." "nail on the fucking head." "oh god, i'm a huge asshole." "jesus, you got a real potty mouth." "damn it, i gotta go home." "hi." "it occurred to me that i never even bothered to ask you... why you don't like red roses." "well, i think i figured it out for myself." "red roses are cheesy and meaningless-- a totally empty gesture." "they're for asshole husbands who treat their wives like shit." "and you deserve a lot more than some hollow token of a gift." "if i could find a flower that was unique to you, it had your face on it," " with your eyes-- - stop, please!" "jesus, stop!" "stop." "you talked to me." "yes. look, what you're saying about roses is true." "great, and thank you for that interesting presentation." "but the whole point was this-- i told you something and you didn't listen." "that was the issue." "when i tell you things and you don't listen, it's a huge insult to me." "it makes me feel like i don't matter." "believe me, i totally get this." "you want me to listen to you and then later remember the things that you said." "yeah." "and as far as being called a cunt... i don't like that, but i didn't think that was something i had to tell you." "yeah, i got it." "and you may not fuck my sister." "i'm really sorry, i threw away our whole weekend." "lucy's coming home in like 20 minutes." "come on." "oh, wait." "wait wait wait." "what?"