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


Uploaded by wigs on 16.11.2012

Transcript:
He was a new flavor I'd never tasted.
Sometimes it takes tasting something better to stop eating the same old thing.
Oh, leave it alone, it's fine.
I know you took the truffle.
And I also know that you're fucking Ian.
But if I didn't tell anybody I'd be an accomplice, so...
Stand by everybody, we're gonna roll in two minutes. Scurry.
You are such an idiot, Audrey.
Did you think no one was going to find out? Of course she told him. She hates you.
Okay, alright, alright. Look.
My advice would be, just put the truffle back in the drawer and act like a naïve dumbass. Story of my life but I can't. I sold it.
You...you what? Audrey! I had to pay my rent.
Okay, who'd you sell it to? Truffle dealer. Beverly Hills.
Wow, you are eighteen shades fucked.
I had to pay my rent on my own, Marissa, otherwise I was going to have to stay with Ben so that he could help, which, in turn, would make me a backhanded whore.
So, it was either steal the truffle or wake up next to disappointment every morning.
Audrey, can I see you in my office?
Also, no smoking.
What do I do? What do I do? Breathe. You're fine.
The audacity is mind blowing. I'll figure-
Just give it back! I can't. I sold it.
Jesus.
You're gonna have to make it up to me.
They were sisters. Pairs. Friends.
Cook with this one.
And have dinner with me. Once a week.
Ian, are you bribing me to hang out with you?
You wouldn't have to.
I'd hang out with you pro bono.
Audrey.
Come over tonight.
As soon as you get in the door, on the left, press pound six-six-six. Six-six-six?
Sorry I'm an asshole. I'll be there in thirty.
Ian! Shut your eyes.
Oh my God.
I...
Um...
I...who are you?
Ian's ex-wife.
Oh my God. Um, I didn't, um, he didn't-
He wouldn't.
Why don't you put some clothes on? Now. Yeah.
And so the recipe lied. It left out key ingredients on purpose. Key ingredients to fool the taster that what it was getting was pure.
But, we all know how restaurants work. The better it tastes, the more shit they snuck in.
I ordered the chef's special. Like an idiot. Hit or miss. Miss.
You're young and exciting now.
Before you know it, a twenty-one year old with a knack for killer ravioli will be feeding his hunger while you're at home waiting for him on your 35th birthday.
Listen, cook one dish. Cook it well. Learn what you like, explore your flavors, expand your palette. Don't microwave your life. Or you'll end up like me.
I should really go. Wait.
I didn't sleep with him.
I believe you. But you cooked for him, dear.
So what is more intimate? Food or sex?
I'll tell you one thing. You got me into a lot of trouble little friend.
Audrey?
Are you there? Are you gonna say som-
Here I am. In hot water with cold ice cream, and what should be gluttonous bliss. And yet, I feel nothing.
You know what? Fuck it.
Sometimes you have to feel nothing and be hungry. And go to sleep with blue balls and just get through it.
It's all moments and flavors. And mistakes.
Maybe my mom was right. Sensory pleasure does come second to that of the heart.