Hank Moody: Daughter?
Becca: Can I ask you something?
Hank Moody: Anything, my love.
Becca: Why is there a naked lady in your bedroom?
Hank Moody: You wait right there okay?
Becca: There’s no hair on her vagina. Do you think she’s ok?
Hank Moody: I’ll check.
Hank Moody: So, not only are you a cadaverous lay, you also have shitty taste in movies.
Hank Moody: [to Meredith] Now you’re giving me that look, right now, look like I fingerbanged your cat.
Hank Moody: What?
Karen Van Der Beek: You smell like pussy.
Hank Moody: Thank you.
Hank Moody: Oh, I know that look. That’s the look that shrivels me testes.
Hank Moody: I was just trying to have a little chat with your husband up there. (Points to Jesus on Cross)
Nun: Is there something I can help you with?
Hank Moody: Oh no, I don’t want to bother a real live person about it.
Hank Moody: I love women. I have all their albums.
Hank Moody: Try not to forget all the times I brought you to fruition. 33 to be exact.
Hank Moody: Hey. You know, it’s not fair to say BRB and then never actually BRB
Hank Moody: ‘B’ to the ‘I’ to the double ‘L’. What’s up, my nig nog?
Bill Lewis: I need to talk to you.
Hank Moody: Well, you should have called. I wouldn’t have answered, but you could’ve left a message, which I would have quickly erased.
Radio Show Host: What’s your latest obsession?
Hank Moody: Just the fact that people seem to be getting dumber and dumber. You know, I mean we have all this amazing technology and yet computers have turned into basically four figure wank machines. The internet was supposed to set us free, democratize us, but all it’s really given us is Howard Dean’s aborted candidacy and 24 hour a day access to kiddie porn. People… they don’t write anymore, they blog. Instead of talking, they text, no punctuation, no grammar: LOL this and LMFAO that. You know, it just seems to me it’s just a bunch of stupid people pseudo-communicating with a bunch of other stupid people at a proto-language that resembles more what cavemen used to speak than the King’s English.
Radio Show Host: Yet you’re part of the problem, I mean you’re out there blogging with the best of them.
Hank Moody: Hence my self-loathing.
Hank Moody: I wanna ask you a question, Runkle, and how you answer will determine whether or not I will put this cigarette out on your asshole. Would you take me the fuck home?
Charlie Runkle: Home it is, my good man.
Hank Moody: I’m not immune to kind words, especially when they’re so true.
Hank Moody: Ladies and gentlemen, I apologize, I’ve already said too much. I just got out of jail, and I haven’t slept, eaten, or – pardon me, milady – taken a decent crap in days. Except his coffee does seem to be working. It is time to release the Kraken.
Hank Moody: Alright, I wanna thank each and every one of you. Especially you, Sasha Bingham. You say you have great tits, and I most certainly concur, but that ass of yours is no slouch either.
Hank’s Lawyer: It says here you were arrested for assaulting a filmmaker named Todd Carr.
Hank Moody: A shitty filmmaker named Todd Carr. Does it say shitty there? Because it should.
Hank’s Lawyer: You know what? This is a big fucking waste of my time. Good luck to you, Mr. Moody.
Charlie Runkle: Apologize, you idiot!
Hank Moody: Okay, look. I’m sorry that I talked about my balls. My big, beautiful balls. That was inappropriate.
Hank Moody: I fainted? Like a little girl?
Abby Rhodes: Pretty much, yeah.
Hank Moody: What a pussy I am.
Abby Rhodes: You said it, I just thought it.
Hank Moody: This is Karen’s chilled black bohemian lover. Blackhemian. Is that a word? Coining it!
Sasha Bingham: Once you fucked my mother, my vagina pretty much sealed right up.
Hank Moody: Oh, so you’re like a Barbie now.
Sasha Bingham: When it comes to you. Yeah.
Hank Moody: So you’re smooth and hairless with little peachy cleft right there? I would very much like to see that someday.
Director: It’s gorgeous. It’s a gorgina
[about a painting]
Hank Moody: What the fuck is that?
Bill Lewis: Oh, you like it? I could have bought a car instead.
Hank Moody: I think you should still buy the car and then run over whoever created that turd.
Hank Moody: Well, your breasts are obviously real… and… eh… you have an abundance of pubic hair, which is really nice and… eh… there’s no evidence of vaginal rejuvenation. I’d say, aside from the fact that you worship a space alien, you just might be the most beautiful woman I’ve seen in a long, long time
Hank Moody: Sorry, I’m late. I just, uh…
Charlie Runkle: You just what?
Hank Moody: Nah, that’s all I got.
Meredith: My baby.
Hank Moody: You have a baby with married guy? Holy fuck!
Meredith: No, my dog, Cat Stevens.
Hank Moody: You have a dog named Cat Stevens? Holy fuck!
Hank Moody: What the fuck do you want?
Mia Lewis: I’m late.
Hank Moody: What? That’s not possible. I…I…I…I…I…I…I wore a condom. That’s… that would be like, uh, the immaculate conception. And you, you’re the one who… y, you… and then you left.
Mia Lewis: I’m late for school.
Hank Moody: What did she say?
Charlie Runkle: She wanted to play home invasion. Yeah, you break in, pistol-whip me, tie me to a chair, and then I have to watch while you rape her.
Hank Moody: What is wrong with kids today?
Hank Moody: Pity those poor kids, who are never gonna forget this image of this big naked man-baby rising up from the water like the creature from the pasty white lagoon.
Hank Moody: Rectum? Damn near killed him.
Hank Moody: How the fuck do you option a blog? What is there to option? The title? The font?
Karen: What would you do if our little spawn actually became, like, a rock star?
Hank Moody: I would be really proud of her.
Karen: You would?
Hank Moody: And I would be there to help pump her stomach when she OD’d.
Hank Moody: What is your name, by the way?
Venice Beach Girl: Wouldn’t you rather just fuck me and never know?
Hank Moody: Oh, fuck. Who says romance is dead?
Hank Moody: You can’t snort a line of coke off a woman’s ass and not wonder about her hopes and dreams, it’s not gentlemanly.
Charlie Runkle: I’m sorry about your old man. You know, he was a good guy.
Hank Moody: No he was not. He used to say you looked like a walking penis.
Charlie Runkle: Well, that’s not very nice.
Charlie Runkle: Hank Moody. Ronny Praeger, the very gifted auteur behind Vaginatown.
Hank Moody: Oh, I’m honored, I’m a big fan. What is next for you? A Cockwork Orange or perhaps Twenty-sixty-nine: A Sit On My Face Odyssey?
Charlie Runkle: What’ve you got going on later?
Hank Moody: Oh, I don’t know… I thought I’d start the day with some dry toast and half a grapefruit, bust out the old computer, bang out 10 pages, maybe go for a run. Maybe I’ll just jerk off and go back to bed. Wake me up when you come home.
[Hank went to the doctor because he has a lump on his penis]
Dr. Riess: So what are you working on these days?
Hank Moody: What am I working on? I’m working on trying to figure out what that fucking lump in my junk is. That’s what I’m working on.
[to Becca, on her first day of school]
Hank Moody: Whatever you do, don’t be another brick in the wall.
Trixie: Hank Moody, my hero. Just say the word if you want to be properly rewarded. My treat of course.
Lew Ashby: Seriously? You’d comp him?
Trixie: Sure, why not? I’ve sampled the merchandise I know it’s fresh.
Hank Moody: I do remember you telling me that you never came that hard with a John before. Thought it was a line but as you walked away your knees were a little wobbly so I thought maybe, yeah maybe…
Lew Ashby: Hold on, slow down, are you saying he’s fucking better than me?
Hank Moody: Fucking better at the fucking yes, I believe that’s what’s she’s getting at.
Trixie: No that is not what I’m getting at. Please what a stupid question, are the Stones better than the Beatles?
Lew Ashby: Fucking aye they are!
Hank Moody: I must agree with the man.
Damien: I got you something.
[he gives her an MP3 player]
Damien: I put a playlist on there, our playlist, the one we made out to. All 17 songs.
Hank Moody: What! Seventeen songs? That’s a lot of making out.
Hank Moody: You’re a terrible driver.
Karen: I am not.
Hank Moody: Yes you are. You’re like an Asian woman. With Alzheimer’s. No arms or legs. Steering with your tongue.
[looking at a painting]
Hank Moody: Ah! Look at this monstrosity.
Janie Jones: I like this one.
Hank Moody: You do?
Janie Jones: Yeah, that’s how I feel.
Hank Moody: What’s that? Alienated, nauseous, culturally dispossessed?
Janie Jones: No. Horny.
Hank Moody: Oh, look at the time…. The big hand says Fuck, and the little hand says Off….. Good thing there’s not a second hand. I’m goin’ in.
Hank Moody: A BRONER!!! An unintentional male inspired boner.. thats the word I’m looking for
Hank Moody: Yo K-Fed, the little man on the boat he’s up here, that’s where he is, right here.
Hank Moody: Trust me, it’s like a Mapplethorpe shoot in there, except with less cock.
Hank Moody: You looking for a dick punch?
Bill: Do you want to punch me in the dick?
Hank Moody: I kinda do, yeah. But standing here talking about it is beginning to sound pretty gay
Hank Moody: Funky back-tat on the small of the back there, you know what that means.
Hank Moody: She likes it in the pooper.
Hank Moody: I have no idea, I just wanted to say pooper.
Julian: I like to think of myself as more of a creative midwife.
Hank: Oh, well I like to think of myself as having a twelve-inch cock, but it doesn’t make it so. Two inches shy!
Becca: Do you remember what you used to do for me when I couldn’t sleep?
Hank : Dose you with opiates?
Becca: No. Look at the ocean and count mermaids.
Hank : I did do that. I’m a better father than I thought.
Chloe Metz: Fuck me like I’m Al-Qaeda!
Hank: I’m declaring Jihad on your pussy.
Hell-A Magazine blog number 1. Hank hates you all. A few things I’ve learned on my travels through this crazy little thing called life. One, a morning of awkwardness is better than a night of loneliness. Two, I probably won’t go down in history, but I will go down on your sister. And 3, while I’m down there it might be nice to see a hint of pubis. I’m not talking about a huge 70?s Playboy bush or anything. Just something that reminds me that I’m performing cunnilingus on an adult. But I guess the larger question is why is the city of angels so hell bent on destroying its female population.
Hell-A Magazine blog number 2. Good morning Hell-A. In the land of the lotus eaters’ time plays tricks on you. One day you’re dreaming, the next your dream has become your reality. It was the best of times, if only someone had told me. Mistakes were made, hearts were broken, harsh lessons learned. My family goes on without me, while I drown in a sea of pointless pussy. I don’t know how I got here, but here I am, rotting away in the warm California sun. There are things I need to figure out, for her sake at least. The clock is ticking, the gap is widening. She won’t always love me no matter what.
Peggy: I was just telling him I started my period and that my cherry poppin’ daddy needs to earn his red wings.
Hank: Oh boy, this planet that you’re from? How far from the sun we talking?
Peggy: Excuse me fellas, this dirty little girl scout needs to plug herself up. Don’t worry Charlie, I’ll let you pull the string.
Karen: And the judge? Did you sleep with the judge too?
Hank: No, no, just a little oral and some anal. Its hard to get the robe up
Hank: Revenge is a dish best served with my dick.
Hank: I’ll always be buzzing around like a gnat, like a well-hung gnat, with a dream.
Hank: I’m a writer Sasha not a fuck toy.
Sasha: Don’t look now but your manpon string is hanging out.
Marcy: Don’t blame me because you were born with a clit for a cock and a tiny little beanbag to house what passes for balls.
Hank: I love me some morning sex. Daylight, smelly puss, bad breathe, bring it!
Abby: I think I’m actually seeing some of that Hank Moody mojo up close and personal.
Hank: Is my dong out?
Hank: It looks like a button on a fur coat. Well look on the bright side Charlie, it may be short but it’s thin
Hank: Where’s you cock? Oh I see it, it’s right under your clit.
Hank: Should I be worried? He does seem dangerously cool. Kind of like a young Lando Calrissian, with a dream.
Hank: Are you guys really sisters or is this kind of like some white stripes deal?
Hank: I got a date with my dong and some hotel pornography, the good stuff too, penetration and everything
Hank: Probably not the best idea for me to get involved with the actress who is going to play the girl that I raped, allegedly.
Sasha: I get what you’re saying, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want one or more of your fingers in my vagina right now.
Hank: I’m holding out for Keitel. When in doubt call, in the Bad Lieutenant. Plus the guy loves to show his dong. Gotta love that in a thespian.
Hank: My adventures in the screen trade have been about as much fun as forced anal.
Hank: Not only does the lady have bodacious ta-ta’s she also has splendiferous taste in literature.
Hank: Hideous creatures these teenage girls.
Felicia: Monstrous, couldn’t agree with you more.
Hank: Is it too late to drown them in the tub?
Hank: This is frowned upon.
Jackie: Give me a break. You once spent an entire class ranting about how much you hate Coldplay. Something tells me you could care less about what’s frowned upon.
Hank: Still one of my favorite lectures.
Hank: Do we think the ladies have gone too far with the sex positive feminism? I mean I know they’re all down with the pornography and the shaved pudenda and what not, but do we really think this is the path to liberation?
Hank: Are you sexually harassing me right now? Because if you are, I think I’m going to have to report you – for giving me a serious boner.
Hank: I consider that whole area, general area, like from my knees to my nipples… cock.
Hank: Don’t you remember I’m an asshole ?
Meredith: I’m an attorney
Hank: Oh, then we’re both assholes.
Hank: Instead of finding out your husband was gay, you could’ve found out he was a Scientologist…or a Nazi. Or Al-Qaeda. See that’s what I love about LA. It’s the diversity.
Hank: It’s not your fault. I’m like fly paper for the emotionally disturbed.
Hank: Could I get a jumbo order of what the fuck were you thinking?
Hank: You might want to think about popping a breath mint
or chewing some gum every now and again. Your mouth tastes like a hobo’s taint.