Crash Pad Page #3

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So after a couple

of business trips ran long,

the logical conclusion to her

irrational female intellect

was that I was in fact cheating.

Typical women.

A brother can't even

be late and tired.

That's for sure.

Oh, we give them our hearts,

our penises, and still

they do not trust us.

That was a good one.

The old shower vomit.

Yeah, I miss those days.

Yeah, I mean, after

15 years of marriage,

it's not so hot anymore.

Do I get the urge to mess

around with other women?

Of course I do.

You can't control what goes

through this mastermind.

No.

That'd go against the very nature of

man, the very essence of evolution.

When I get the desire

to bang some strange,

I just go find

a quiet place, rub one out.

Hence, desire quenched.

Hey, you don't have

to tell me about quenches.

I desire my quench

all the f***in' time.

But you don't hate me?

No, I don't hate you.

Morgan's a beautiful woman.

What are you gonna do?

Ah, don't worry about me.

Just get some rest.

What the...

Ah, there's the ol' lush,

sleeping in.

Oh, I hope you don't mind, I took

a couple of hits off the bong.

I hadn't gotten high since the

stones' "bridges to Babylon" tour.

Yeah. How do you like your eggs?

Um...

Scrambled?

Scrambled it is.

Four out of five American men

prefer scrambled.

Over there in Europe,

they're all about the poach.

Those guys are such pussies.

Bacon?

Uh, sure.

I had bacon? And eggs?

No. I went out and

picked up a few things.

Yeah, including some luggage.

No, that was in the car.

So, you left her.

Temporarily. She'll feel

more guilt that way.

Ooh! Ah...

There she is. "Decline."

Oh, you know what? I saw this

article on the refrigerator.

Piqued my curiosity.

"Men's life crisis at age 25."

Yeah, that's what's

wrong with me.

There is now a life crisis

before the mid-life crisis

that experts are calling

the "early-life crisis."

Oh, that's clever.

Yeah. I've been

stuck in one of those.

Yeah? For how long?

Just over eight years.

Close to a decade.

I'm suffering from over-ambitious

aspirations for myself,

so I worry about

getting a better job,

I desire a nicer place to live,

and swankier clothes to wear,

and hotter girls.

And I want to attain all of this

while I'm eradicating my debt.

It's ridiculous.

"Should adopt

more realistic ambitions"

"to feel happier

and less stress."

That's easy for them to say.

They have an awesome job

at a magazine.

D*ckheads.

I'm moving in here for a while.

What? Yeah.

Morgan's faithlessness

has emboldened me

to take a vacation from her,

from our marriage,

from my career.

Yeah. I want to spend it here.

You said it looked like a pirate

ship and smelled of beef noodles.

And you said it smelled of

man, and you were right.

I... I was?

Yes. What the f***

am I going to do?

I'm going to lay around

a swanky hotel

swimming pool in a fluffy robe with

a slice of cucumber in my water?

Order caviar-topped potatoes?

Get massages?

I started making a little

bit of money as a lawyer

and turned into George Hamilton.

I don't know who that is.

Morgan is largely responsible

for me becoming fancy.

The flat screen had to be

moved out of the bathroom.

Can't eat any food anywhere

near the Italian bed linens.

She's even got me wearing pink

Polo shirts on the weekend.

Pink is sometimes nice.

Yeah, it's nice

on birthday cakes.

But it doesn't belong on a

rough-riding son of a b*tch like me.

Or you!

This whole man-shed experience has

brought me back to a blissful time

when I was emotionally unformed

and completely devoid of a

woman's redecorating tips.

All I did in those days

was follow my pecker around.

I didn't give a f***

about anybody or anything.

Here. What I need is here.

I can do anything.

I can freeball

on this ugly couch.

Don't say that.

I can eat chili fries

in that filthy shower.

I can binge-drink without

judgment anytime I want.

I appreciate you making

my man-shed sound poetic,

but why don't you just

get your own private flop?

Why do you need

to share with me?

That's the genius part.

This is the ice cream on top of

the pie, on top of the candy bar.

You don't see it, do you?

I don't.

Morgan's f***ed us

both over, correct?

Very correct.

Do you know how batshit crazy

she is gonna go

when she finds out

that we're living together?

Ooh.

I'm going to pay the rent.

I'm gonna pay for utilities,

groceries, weed,

booze, whatever.

I'm going to pay for everything.

Rent's due on the first.

And the first variation

is to lean to one skate.

This is a really good

stretch for your side.

Okay, go ahead and come up,

square your shoulders.

Try to reach

for your other skate.

Sh*t, that's a cop knock.

No, that's a muumuu knock.

Wait, this could

be the weed talking,

but there's a cow at the door?

No, it's our indecipherable

landlord who only wears guess what?

Sorry about

the noise last night.

She sounds sexy.

Yeah, she's got charm for days.

Lyle, my old roommate,

he thinks she runs guns

out of the laundry room.

What are your plans for the

rest of the day? Hmm...

These leg lunges supersede any plans

I had for the rest of my life.

Lean into it.

Don't forget to breathe.

You know where I've always

wanted to have lunch?

How's it going

with that hangover?

I think it's getting worse.

Well, damn it, boy, hit it

with another engineer beer.

Or some of that

choo-choo chicken.

Look at this.

We had breakfast,

like, an hour ago.

Slow down. You're going to

give yourself a heart attack.

Get used to my gluttony.

I tend to eat a lot on vacation.

Did... that... did...

What the f***?

That guy just took the last

of the piggyback potatoes!

Shh.

Sh*t.

That's why I'm here.

Oh, I am gonna have an excellent

bowel movement tomorrow.

Guaranteed.

So, what are

your new aspirations

now that the antiquities

industry has sh*t-canned you?

Okay, um...

To own my own company

that makes me a lot of money.

What that company does,

I'm not really sure yet.

I'd like a vintage Cadillac

with original leather interior.

House on the water. Winter

home in the Virgin Islands.

I'd like a wife,

hot, preferably Asian...

I'm gonna stop you there. Yeah?

I'm gonna recommend that you

adopt more realistic ambitions

because it sounds like you're a

bit of an unrealistic dreamer.

Guilty.

I'm Pisces, so I view the world

through Rose-tinted spectacles.

Oh, that stung all the

way to my brain stem.

You gotta be kidding me.

If you want to pick up a girl,

you gotta infuse your vocab with

a little bit more testosterone.

Words like "tits"

and "big tits."

Listen, Cadillacs

and beach houses,

those are the dreams

of stupid, naive people.

That's not you, right?

Grady?

Yeah.

They put out

more piggyback potatoes.

What?

When?

I find it a little

strange, actually,

that you blame

"extreme muff deficiency"

as the root of my problems,

when the last muff I was in

belonged to your wife.

Thank you. Thanks.

Let me ask you a question.

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