Hank Moody: I probably won't go down in history, but I will go down on your sister.
Hank Moody: I have a confession to make: I didn't like you very much at first. You were just this annoying little blob. You smelled nice, most of the time, but you didn't seem to have much interest in me, which I of course found vaguely insulting. It was just you and your mom against the world, funny how some things never change. So I cruised along doing my thing, acting the fool, not really understanding how being a parent changes you. And I don't remember the exact moment everything changed, I just know that it did. One minute I was impenetrable, nothing could touch me. The next, my heart was somehow beating outside my chest, exposed to the elements. Loving you has been the most profound, intense, painful experience of my life. In fact, it's been almost too much to bare. As your father I made a silent vow to protect you from the world, never realizing I was the one who would end up hurting you the most. When I flash forward my heart breaks, mostly because I can't imagine you speaking of me with any sort of pride. How could you? Your father is a child in a man's body. He cares for nothing and everything at the same time. Noble in thought, weak in action. Something has to change, something has to give.
Hank Moody: [to Janie Jones] Hey, my name is Hank Moody. I'm a writer and I was doing some research...
Ron Jones: [in Hank's face] Did I say that you could talk to her?
Hank Moody: Jesus, you've got a bit of an overprotective vibe happening here.
Hank Moody: I wanna ask you a question about Lew. Lew Ashby.
Ron Jones: Hey, hey, I asked you nicely to get off my property.
Hank Moody: I don't know about nicely, motherfucker. I will leave your property when I'm good and ready... mothafuckaaa!
[turns around and trips on a bush]
Hank Moody: Who puts a fuckin' bush there?
Hank Moody: [answering phone] City Morgue: You kill 'em, we chill 'em!
Hank Moody: Sorry for the mess on the rug. I didn't know your wife was such a squirter.
Rick Springfield: Nothing like the sound of a stripper's head on a hardwood floor!
Lloyd Alan Philips Jr.: What are you reading right now?
Hank Moody: What am I... reading?
Lloyd Alan Philips Jr.: What's on your nightstand right now?
Hank Moody: That's an interesting question. Um, bottle of Heineken, pack of smokes, The Accommodator.
Lloyd Alan Philips Jr.: The Accommodator... like a novel?
Hank Moody: No, no, it's more like a sex toy. A dildo essentially, only you strap it to your head so that the dong part juts out from your chin. It enables you to accommodate your lady by performing oral and penetrado at the same time.
[performs visual demonstration]
Lloyd Alan Philips Jr.: Interesting.
Hank Moody: I think it's very interesting. I could hook you up.
Hank Moody: Despite the fact that I'm a swirling black hole, I'm pretty fucking awesome sometimes.
Hank Moody: Rosario here is my amiga and she tells me that when she tried to call it quits between you two, you didn't wanna stop. Now I'm all for the...
[pounds hand three times]
Hank Moody: That's cool, I'm not one to judge. But you, the power relations are skewed here, you understand? You gotta read your Karl Marx. So I want you to respect her shit.
Ron Jones: What are you talking about?
Hank Moody: And I don't wanna hear that she's been let go because the day I hear about that, that's the day that your old lady hears about it, comprende?
Ron Jones: Fuck you.
Hank Moody: Fuck me?
Rosario: No, fuck you, Ron.
Hank Moody: Fuck you, Ron.
Rosario: Yeah, fuck *you*, Ron.
Hank Moody: Fuck you, Ron!
Hank Moody: [to Becca] There's no excuse for my behavior. There's no defense if somebody got hurt, especially you. But I need you to know that I started out with the best of intentions. I guess I just wanted them all to see it - the thing that makes them special. I guess that's all anybody wants is to be seen, to be recognized. Then the lines get blurry and the fact that your mom and I are in such a weird place... Yeah... it's a big stinkin' mess. But I am sorry if I let you down, sweetie. I don't know how much more I'm going to be able to say "I'm sorry" before it doesn't mean anything anymore.
Dean Stacy Koons: [to Felicia] We're gonna be discussing this in therapy...
Hank Moody: That's an excellent idea! Therapize the fuck outta this shit!
Dean Stacy Koons: And you're coming with us, Hank.
Hank Moody: Uh, that's an awful idea.
Becca Moody: [to Hank] Why is there a naked lady in your bedroom?
Dean Stacy Koons: Hello, Hank.
Hank Moody: Good morning, Stacy.
Dean Stacy Koons: The front door was open.
Hank Moody: I can be, uh, very neighborly that way.
Dean Stacy Koons: You never called me Stacy before. I wonder why.
Hank Moody: I don't know. It kind of just rolled trippingly off the tongue this morning.
Dean Stacy Koons: Oh, something must be different. Ah, that's right. You fucked my wife.
Felicia Koons: That was some very intense and powerful lovemaking.
[Hank pulls back]
Felicia Koons: What's wrong?
Hank Moody: Not a big fan of that term, lovemaking, making love. I prefer boning, stuffing, shtupping, banging, porking, boffing, anything. Take your pick. Just not lovemaking.
Felicia Koons: So much for the afterglow.
Hank Moody: [to Karen] Oh, I know that look. That's the look that shrivels me testes.
Lloyd Alan Philips Jr.: You seem to be in pretty good shape. Where do you work out? You do the steps?
Hank Moody: The steps?
Lloyd Alan Philips Jr.: In Santa Monica. It's quite a scene; lots of lovely ladies. You can really make a day out of it.
Hank Moody: Yeah... yeah...
[looks around aimlessly]
Lloyd Alan Philips Jr.: What's up? Need something?
Hank Moody: No, I'm just thinking... if I wanted to hang myself, do you think this chandelier here will support my weight? About 175, 180.
Lloyd Alan Philips Jr.: Got an interesting sense of humor, Hank.
Hank Moody: That's what they tell me, Lloyd Alan Philips Jr.
Marcy Runkle: Jesus fucking Christ, Charlie! We are in Escobar and you are bleeding all over my fucking floor!
Charlie Runkle: YOUR fucking floor? It's my fucking floor too and I'll bleed on it if I want to! Holy Jesus woman, I'm in dire straits here!
Marcy Runkle: Life is a fucked up thing. Shit happens. One day you're up, one day you're down.
Jill Robinson: Okay, I've been doing some thinking.
Hank Moody: Oh, you mean some overthinking!
Jill Robinson: You...
Hank Moody: Yes?
Jill Robinson: I accept you.
Hank Moody: What?
Jill Robinson: Haha, no, I accept you for who you are.
Hank Moody: Oh, you accept me. Thanks, I guess.
Jill Robinson: You're not listening, stupid!
Hank Moody: I'm listening!
Jill Robinson: I accept you for who you are! I don't wanna change you. I...
[Hank dodges Jill and prepares coffee]
Jill Robinson: I think we work well together, you know? Kid or no kid, snip or no snip, I wanna be with you. I think I spent years idolizing...
Hank Moody: Sure you don't want some coffee?
Jill Robinson: No. I think I was in love with the idea of love, you know?
Hank Moody: Tea?
Jill Robinson: No, thanks. I like what we have.
Hank Moody: Are ya hungry?
Jill Robinson: No. But now I know that I'm in love with you. I'm in love with *you*, Hank Moody.
Hank Moody: [laughs uncomfortably] Aw, Jill... this... it's... what... but...
Jill Robinson: No, don't "but" me. Don't "but" me now...
[takes off coat to reveal her naked body, Hank drops his mug and it shatters on the floor]
Hank Moody: Ho...
Jill Robinson: Yeah. Or I just might...
[turns around and shakes butt]
Jill Robinson: Butt you back!
[someone knocks on the door]
Hank Moody: FUCK!
Dean Stacy Koons: Are you in love with my wife, Hank?
Hank Moody: [pauses] That's a ridiculous question.
Dean Stacy Koons: Well, she seems to be in love with you. Do you feel the same?
Hank Moody: Feel the same...
Dean Stacy Koons: Do you love her?
[long uncomfortable pause, then Becca and Chelsea enter the apartment]
Hank Moody: [immediately shifts attention to them] What... do we have here?
Becca Moody: What are you doing home?
Hank Moody: Uh, wha... school clothes? Is it a snow day?
Chelsea Koons: What are you guys doing here?
Dean Stacy Koons: I believe that question should be directed at you, young lady.
Hank Moody: Copy that, motherfucker!