Audrey | Ep. 5 of 6 | Feat. Kim Shaw | WIGS


Uploaded by wigs on 12.11.2012

Transcript:
I guess he wasn't trying to sleep with me.
He was trying to...cook with me.
The great American egg. The buttery yolk, the tasteless white.
Ian was the yolk. Intriguing, guilty, rich. Ben was the white. Muscular, solid, practical.
Audrey? Yes?
You can cook. I told you.
Yes, but I didn't believe you.
Why?
Who believes anybody anymore?
I like the way you go slow. You feel everything before you cut it. It's tantric. Old school.
Everything that we have on the network now is, like, cheap porn.
Temporary thrill, mildly satisfying. Quick.
Your palette, though.
Virginal, underdeveloped. When I watch you eat, I feel like I'm constantly witnessing something. It's crazy.
It's...crazy.
What I'm saying is...
Stay close to me and you won't have to be a food stylist for much longer.
You know, it's funny. I...
I thought we were gonna have...
We just did.
I missed you last night.
You smell like bacon.
I want to break up.
What?
I want to break up, Ben.
I saw you out with that girl- No, hey, hey. That was my friend. I told you I was having dinner with my friend.
Why didn't you say something about it?
It didn't even matter.
We don't...
We don't vibe like crazy. We don't share any of the same interests, we don't, you don't-
Okay, what do you want me to do? You think you don't add to this whole disconnect here? What is that?
You're so busy just shopping for organic shit or eating out or blogging about Himalayan pink sea salt.
You don't even have time to change the sheets, or soak in a bath with me-
Ben, please. It's no- No, it's nothing.
I mean, what do you want me to do, Audrey? You want me to churn tempeh out of my own shit?
I know what this is, I know what day tomorrow is. Tomorrow's September fifth- Oh, just stop.
You gotta start talking about it- Stop! You gotta start talking about it.
Huh? Fine. You gonna dump me? Then go ahead, dump me. Good, do it.
You're gonna dump the next guy as soon as he gets too close. Now I'm sorry about what happened to your mother.
But not matter how many fucking cakes you bake, she's not coming back.
Was he right?
Was I leaving him? Or was I leaving the past that only he knew?
I missed her. Would I miss him?
But, there was batter to be mixed. And pancakes to be made. Go away stupid feelings.
Go away.
Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker's man. Bake me a cake as fast as you can. Roll it up, roll it up, and throw it in a pan. Patty cake, patty cake, baker's man.