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hackthis_archiveMy girl is not happy. This is for her, because Ari loves her, too.
Entourage/RPF/RPS – Ari Gold, George Clooney, the 78th Annual Oscars annoucements
Going to the Chapel (of Hollywood Love)
The nominations for the 78th Annual Oscars are announced at 5:30am Pacific Time. Ari's alarm goes off at 5:15am, so he has just enough time to turn on KTLA, find his Crackberry, and sharpen a few knives in case he has to castrate any Academy members.
At 5:26am Ari calls Lloyd to make sure his ass monkey is hovering around outside the Academy Theatre on Wilshire like he fucking told him to. Lloyd doesn't sound particularly coherent, or happy, but Ari doesn't care, "I don't fucking pay you to bitch about being tired! I pay you to sleep with fucking Academy members and get my boy a gold statue. If you did a bad job sucking cock, and we don't get our noms, you're fired."
Lloyd hangs up on Ari at 5:28am.
At 5:29am Mrs Ari kicks him out of the bedroom because she needs her beauty sleep, and, in her words, "I don't need to hear you sucking George's cock over the phone."
Mrs Ari has a seriously filthy mouth, which is obviously why Ari married her in the first place. There is a running joke in the Gold household, however, that Ari has two wives, his actual wife, and George.
It's really not much of a joke since it's true, but every time Mrs Ari bitches about Ari spending more time with George than her, Ari just shrugs it off. "Everybody wants Gold, baby, and you knew I was fucking George when we got married."
George and Ari aren't literally fucking, of course. Figuratively speaking, though, not only was George by Ari's side the day he married Mrs Ari, he was also Ari's Best Man. It's not the same as Ari marrying George, but since George gave him away, it's pretty fucking close.
Ari loves George like he loves his Porsche. Ari just loves George period, which is why it kills him every time George gets his boxers in a twist over Bradley, or Matt, or fucking anybody that's not Ari, but that's a conversation for another day altogether. Preferably, a day when Ari's not crouched in the bathtub in his bathroom, watching the plasma screen that the Missus had installed, and that he'd almost said no to.
Well, he didn't say no inasmuch as she said, "I want a television in the bathroom", and Ari said, "Fuck no", and she said, "George has one", and instead of Ari asking how the fuck she knew, he said, "Okay."
At any rate, Ari's only missed 45 seconds of the Oscar announcements. "They haven't read them off yet!" he hollers through the bathroom door, because even if Mrs Ari pretends not to be interested, what's good for him is good for her shopping money.
Mira Sorvino is reading the announcements, and she looks pretty bad. "Mira, baby," Ari's talking to the TV while checking his Crackberry messages. "You look like shit; you see what having babies does to you? You should've fucking adopted from the nearest disaster site instead of pushing those watermelons out through your nostrils."
She's reading off the nominations like she's one of those Hooked-On-Phonics trannies that work part-time at the Starbucks, and every other word out her mouth is Brokebitch.
"Jesus, Mira, you're fucking killing me here," Ari says, slapping the screen with the flat of hand, before remembering how much it cost to put a TV in the bathroom in the first place.
Ari's scrolling through an e-mail from Dana at Warner Brothers -- she's talking to him again now that Vince has almost wrapped Aquaman -- and only half listening to Mira's cocaine-nasal whine when he hears the magic words.
Best Supporting Actor.
George fucking Clooney.
Okay, Mira doesn't say the fucking part, Ari just puts that in for her.
And then there whooping and hollering, and Ari's scrambling fruitlessly at the sides of the Italian marble tub, trying to get out and keep a hold of his Crackberry which is pretty much exploding with beeps and bells and e-mails.
"WE DID IT!" he howls at the top if his lungs. "We are going to the big dance, baby!"
"Shut the hell up!" Mrs Ari shouts back, her voice muffled through the door.
Ari's phone is having a conniption in his hands, and it takes him several seconds to answer it. "George?"
"Ariel, it's Harvey Wein—"
"Go away you fat fuck!" Ari doesn't even think twice about hanging up on someone who used to be the most powerful man in town. Clearly he's deranged with happiness, and then Mira does it again.
George Clooney and other people.
Best Screenplay.
"Mira, I take back everything I thought about your saggy tits and two-bit whore acting, I love you!" Ari says before kissing the television screen. He hugs the wall for several seconds while his Crackberry whizzes and beeps in his hand. Eventually he answers. "Georgie?"
"No, it's Lloyd. Ari, did you—"
"Lloyd, baby, I take back everything I said about your breath smelling like you'd been rimming Vince Vaughn! Take the day off! Take two days off!"
"Seriously?"
"Of course I'm not fucking serious, what the fuck do you think I'm running here, a charity? This isn’t CAA. You can have the afternoon off. Take your shirt-lifting ass to Coffee Bean. I'll pay for all your café lattes for the next month."
"Ari, wait, did you hear about -–"
"Gotta go!" Ari's smiling like Scarlett Johannsen flashed him, and he's just dialing George when Mira's voice breaks through his euphoric haze.
George Clooney. Best Director.
Ari's dream has finally come to fruition. This is better than that time he woke up at the Honolulu Hilton and found himself in bed with Matt Damon and a half-empty case of Guinness. Obviously, that was before Mrs Ari, or Bradley, or Angelina.
It must've been the Lisa years. George was always partying when he was with her.
Ari shakes it off, because his Crackberry is shaking like a $45 vibrator from Hustler. "If your name is not George Clooney, I will hunt you down and castrate you with a grapefruit spoon while your fuck buddy watches. Unless you're a chick, in which case, you can just blow me on the Jumbotron at the Staples Center."
"Well, good morning to you too, sunshine."
There's this thing that happens to Ari when he hears George's voice. It's not quite the sound of a credit card being approved or angels singing, it's more like a bed squeaking really loudly, but today Ari just assumes it's the Missus going to sleep in the guest room.
"George, baby, I was gonna call you. I was going to send up fucking smoke signals and a goddamn sky writer! Who the fuck stole my thunder? Tell me so I can find them and cut them with a rusty razor blade." Ari's not coddling, but it's about as close as he gets.
"So you heard the news?" George sounds tired. Well, it is only 5:53 in the morning.
"Heard? HEARD? Baby, I knew this was going to happen. It was foretold in the cards by Paris Hilton's psychic coke dealer. You're the one who's been all cavalier like your name was Steven Spielberg. I told you having Lloyd suck all that cock would pay off."
George's chuckle warms the recesses of Ari's tiny heart. "Best Supporting Actor," he says blithely. "That's pretty fucking cool."
"And, motherfucker, and Best Director. Do not forget the fucking AND there, it's going to make us a lot of money."
George yawns, and Ari does something completely uncharacteristic. "Okay, your highness, go back to sleep. We've got a busy schedule between now and March. We've got to blackmail half the Academy and buy the other half. I can't do that if you're looking a day over 35."
George snorts. "Are you saying I look old?"
"No, sweetheart, you look like a guy who's taking his agent to the Oscars as his date."
Ari can just see George raising his eyebrow. "I am?"
"Yes, and don't think I'm putting out on the first date either -- unless you get me a little gold statue before the night's over."
"Can we talk about this over coffee later on?"
"11:30. The Crack Bean and Tea Leaf on Robertson. Don’t be late or I'll tell the world that you've been the third party in my marriage for the last eight years."
George just laughs. "If you're going to out me, you should at least tell them something they don't know."
"I'll tell them you like to be on the bottom, how about that?"
"That's only so you don't get smushed," George says easily.
Ari's still sputtering when George hangs up.
He would never go gay for anybody. Except George. He hates that George knows that.
-end-
- Mrs Ari, really is just Mrs Ari. She has no name on the show yet, so.
Entourage/RPF/RPS – Ari Gold, George Clooney, the 78th Annual Oscars annoucements
The nominations for the 78th Annual Oscars are announced at 5:30am Pacific Time. Ari's alarm goes off at 5:15am, so he has just enough time to turn on KTLA, find his Crackberry, and sharpen a few knives in case he has to castrate any Academy members.
At 5:26am Ari calls Lloyd to make sure his ass monkey is hovering around outside the Academy Theatre on Wilshire like he fucking told him to. Lloyd doesn't sound particularly coherent, or happy, but Ari doesn't care, "I don't fucking pay you to bitch about being tired! I pay you to sleep with fucking Academy members and get my boy a gold statue. If you did a bad job sucking cock, and we don't get our noms, you're fired."
Lloyd hangs up on Ari at 5:28am.
At 5:29am Mrs Ari kicks him out of the bedroom because she needs her beauty sleep, and, in her words, "I don't need to hear you sucking George's cock over the phone."
Mrs Ari has a seriously filthy mouth, which is obviously why Ari married her in the first place. There is a running joke in the Gold household, however, that Ari has two wives, his actual wife, and George.
It's really not much of a joke since it's true, but every time Mrs Ari bitches about Ari spending more time with George than her, Ari just shrugs it off. "Everybody wants Gold, baby, and you knew I was fucking George when we got married."
George and Ari aren't literally fucking, of course. Figuratively speaking, though, not only was George by Ari's side the day he married Mrs Ari, he was also Ari's Best Man. It's not the same as Ari marrying George, but since George gave him away, it's pretty fucking close.
Ari loves George like he loves his Porsche. Ari just loves George period, which is why it kills him every time George gets his boxers in a twist over Bradley, or Matt, or fucking anybody that's not Ari, but that's a conversation for another day altogether. Preferably, a day when Ari's not crouched in the bathtub in his bathroom, watching the plasma screen that the Missus had installed, and that he'd almost said no to.
Well, he didn't say no inasmuch as she said, "I want a television in the bathroom", and Ari said, "Fuck no", and she said, "George has one", and instead of Ari asking how the fuck she knew, he said, "Okay."
At any rate, Ari's only missed 45 seconds of the Oscar announcements. "They haven't read them off yet!" he hollers through the bathroom door, because even if Mrs Ari pretends not to be interested, what's good for him is good for her shopping money.
Mira Sorvino is reading the announcements, and she looks pretty bad. "Mira, baby," Ari's talking to the TV while checking his Crackberry messages. "You look like shit; you see what having babies does to you? You should've fucking adopted from the nearest disaster site instead of pushing those watermelons out through your nostrils."
She's reading off the nominations like she's one of those Hooked-On-Phonics trannies that work part-time at the Starbucks, and every other word out her mouth is Brokebitch.
"Jesus, Mira, you're fucking killing me here," Ari says, slapping the screen with the flat of hand, before remembering how much it cost to put a TV in the bathroom in the first place.
Ari's scrolling through an e-mail from Dana at Warner Brothers -- she's talking to him again now that Vince has almost wrapped Aquaman -- and only half listening to Mira's cocaine-nasal whine when he hears the magic words.
Best Supporting Actor.
George fucking Clooney.
Okay, Mira doesn't say the fucking part, Ari just puts that in for her.
And then there whooping and hollering, and Ari's scrambling fruitlessly at the sides of the Italian marble tub, trying to get out and keep a hold of his Crackberry which is pretty much exploding with beeps and bells and e-mails.
"WE DID IT!" he howls at the top if his lungs. "We are going to the big dance, baby!"
"Shut the hell up!" Mrs Ari shouts back, her voice muffled through the door.
Ari's phone is having a conniption in his hands, and it takes him several seconds to answer it. "George?"
"Ariel, it's Harvey Wein—"
"Go away you fat fuck!" Ari doesn't even think twice about hanging up on someone who used to be the most powerful man in town. Clearly he's deranged with happiness, and then Mira does it again.
George Clooney and other people.
Best Screenplay.
"Mira, I take back everything I thought about your saggy tits and two-bit whore acting, I love you!" Ari says before kissing the television screen. He hugs the wall for several seconds while his Crackberry whizzes and beeps in his hand. Eventually he answers. "Georgie?"
"No, it's Lloyd. Ari, did you—"
"Lloyd, baby, I take back everything I said about your breath smelling like you'd been rimming Vince Vaughn! Take the day off! Take two days off!"
"Seriously?"
"Of course I'm not fucking serious, what the fuck do you think I'm running here, a charity? This isn’t CAA. You can have the afternoon off. Take your shirt-lifting ass to Coffee Bean. I'll pay for all your café lattes for the next month."
"Ari, wait, did you hear about -–"
"Gotta go!" Ari's smiling like Scarlett Johannsen flashed him, and he's just dialing George when Mira's voice breaks through his euphoric haze.
George Clooney. Best Director.
Ari's dream has finally come to fruition. This is better than that time he woke up at the Honolulu Hilton and found himself in bed with Matt Damon and a half-empty case of Guinness. Obviously, that was before Mrs Ari, or Bradley, or Angelina.
It must've been the Lisa years. George was always partying when he was with her.
Ari shakes it off, because his Crackberry is shaking like a $45 vibrator from Hustler. "If your name is not George Clooney, I will hunt you down and castrate you with a grapefruit spoon while your fuck buddy watches. Unless you're a chick, in which case, you can just blow me on the Jumbotron at the Staples Center."
"Well, good morning to you too, sunshine."
There's this thing that happens to Ari when he hears George's voice. It's not quite the sound of a credit card being approved or angels singing, it's more like a bed squeaking really loudly, but today Ari just assumes it's the Missus going to sleep in the guest room.
"George, baby, I was gonna call you. I was going to send up fucking smoke signals and a goddamn sky writer! Who the fuck stole my thunder? Tell me so I can find them and cut them with a rusty razor blade." Ari's not coddling, but it's about as close as he gets.
"So you heard the news?" George sounds tired. Well, it is only 5:53 in the morning.
"Heard? HEARD? Baby, I knew this was going to happen. It was foretold in the cards by Paris Hilton's psychic coke dealer. You're the one who's been all cavalier like your name was Steven Spielberg. I told you having Lloyd suck all that cock would pay off."
George's chuckle warms the recesses of Ari's tiny heart. "Best Supporting Actor," he says blithely. "That's pretty fucking cool."
"And, motherfucker, and Best Director. Do not forget the fucking AND there, it's going to make us a lot of money."
George yawns, and Ari does something completely uncharacteristic. "Okay, your highness, go back to sleep. We've got a busy schedule between now and March. We've got to blackmail half the Academy and buy the other half. I can't do that if you're looking a day over 35."
George snorts. "Are you saying I look old?"
"No, sweetheart, you look like a guy who's taking his agent to the Oscars as his date."
Ari can just see George raising his eyebrow. "I am?"
"Yes, and don't think I'm putting out on the first date either -- unless you get me a little gold statue before the night's over."
"Can we talk about this over coffee later on?"
"11:30. The Crack Bean and Tea Leaf on Robertson. Don’t be late or I'll tell the world that you've been the third party in my marriage for the last eight years."
George just laughs. "If you're going to out me, you should at least tell them something they don't know."
"I'll tell them you like to be on the bottom, how about that?"
"That's only so you don't get smushed," George says easily.
Ari's still sputtering when George hangs up.
He would never go gay for anybody. Except George. He hates that George knows that.
 |
-end-
- Mrs Ari, really is just Mrs Ari. She has no name on the show yet, so.
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no subject
Date: 2006-02-01 12:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-01 05:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-01 12:36 am (UTC)*covers you in happiness*
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Date: 2006-02-01 05:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-01 12:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-01 05:45 pm (UTC)Ari loves that you love him. Really.
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Date: 2006-02-01 01:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-01 05:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-01 01:52 am (UTC)*flails*
Much, much, much respect, and love, and virtual hugs. This made my day.
Also, I notice that the actress who played Mrs Ari had a bit part in Mr & Mrs Smith. Meta or what?
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Date: 2006-02-01 05:46 pm (UTC)OMG, I didn't notice that! That's crazy, man, wow.
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Date: 2006-02-01 02:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-01 05:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-01 05:12 am (UTC)Btw, that's a pretty sleek looking manbag on George.
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Date: 2006-02-01 06:36 am (UTC)Oh, Ari you're the best!
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Date: 2006-02-01 05:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-01 10:40 am (UTC)Um, yor story wins at life and I'm going to be rooting for George.
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Date: 2006-02-01 05:49 pm (UTC)Okay, that's so sad that it makes the baby Ari cry.
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Date: 2006-02-01 01:22 pm (UTC)*dies*
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Date: 2006-02-01 05:10 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2006-02-01 01:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-01 05:50 pm (UTC)Ari!!
Date: 2006-02-01 02:32 pm (UTC)This is my favorite image EVER.
It was foretold in the cards by Paris Hilton's psychic coke dealer.
You know, it's when I read this that I realized that ARi lives in your head. That's a scary place, innit?
*heart*
(in other news, I still have no internet at home. [insert shrieking here])
Re: Ari!!
Date: 2006-02-01 05:53 pm (UTC)This is my favorite image EVER.
Can't just *see* it?
It was foretold in the cards by Paris Hilton's psychic coke dealer.
You know, it's when I read this that I realized that ARi lives in your head. That's a scary place, innit?
I love how you pretend like this is some new revelation. It's so endearing.
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Date: 2006-02-01 02:48 pm (UTC)I really needed this today! I mean, Keira Knightley, wtf? It's just so blah. The mind boggles.
As usual, much George and Ari love. Speaking of awards and Ari, I never noticed how short he was until he presented at the SAG's. He seemed so tiny.
*waves 'Team George' flag*
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Date: 2006-02-01 05:53 pm (UTC)That's what *I* said! It was like, oh, stop shitting me, for real. And yes, Ari is not a big man, but he's got presence ;)
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Date: 2006-02-01 04:18 pm (UTC)seriously, this whole ari gold loves george clooney is fantastic. ♥
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Date: 2006-02-01 05:54 pm (UTC)Ari is truly fantastic. Really. I do not endorse lightly; he is SO worth it. Ari + George 4eva!
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Date: 2006-02-01 04:33 pm (UTC)If I loved you more I'd have to cover you in glaze and eat you up. Or something that sounds *WAY* less creepy than that did.
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Date: 2006-02-01 05:55 pm (UTC)I know. My dream is for George to do a bit on the show, but since he and Marky Mark had their falling out and George replaced him with Matt Damon, I don't see that happening. *is v sad*
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Date: 2006-02-01 05:04 pm (UTC)Mrs Ari has a seriously filthy mouth, which is obviously why Ari married her in the first place. There is a running joke in the Gold household, however, that Ari has two wives, his actual wife, and George.
Oh dear. How's the bee situation?
(so so many comments to make, none of them fit for public consumption.)
It's not the same as Ari marrying George, but since George gave him away, it's pretty fucking close.
HOLY SHIT! I am so in love.
which is why it kills him every time George gets his boxers in a twist over Bradley, or Matt, or fucking anybody that's not Ari, but that's a conversation for another day
Yeah, well.
You should've fucking adopted from the nearest disaster site instead of pushing those watermelons out through your nostrils.
*This* is why Ari and I are friends.
"Ari's, it's Harvey Wein—"
"Go away you fat fuck!" Ari doesn't even think twice about hanging up on someone who used to be the most powerful man in town
Omg, he did NOT!
I'm amazed, as an aside, how many people haven't seen Overnight. This explains how people can apparently *like* Boondock Saints.
This is better than that time he woke up at the Honolulu Hilton and found himself in bed with Matt Damon and a half-empty case of Guinness.
Um. Yeah. That bit? LOVE.
"Well, good morning to you too, sunshine."
Do you know that even the image in my HEAD of him talking makes me lose my entire mind? *sigh*
There's always this thing that happens to Ari when he hears George's voice. It's not quite the sound of a credit card being approved or angels singing, it's more like a bed squeaking really loudly, but today Ari just assumes it's the Missus going to sleep in the guest room.
And it's good to know you...I mean Ari feels the same way.
Hm. Good morning, sunshine.
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Date: 2006-12-29 03:15 am (UTC)