to take me to my radiation treatment.
Oh, God. What kind of heartless friend forgets to...
天啊 是我 不是吗
Oh, my God, it's me, isn't it?
I am so sorry.
Time flies when you're hosing out a dumpster.
Can you give me, uh, 20 minutes to get cleaned up?
Well, let me check with my cancer.
What do you think, boss?
Mr. Prostate said we got to go.
For years I was just a racetrack guy.
Then the racetrack opened a poker club.
Which was convenient, until it cost me my job.
But I figured, see, that was a good thing,
because it was obvious I was gonna make more money gambling
than I would selling retractable canvas awnings.
And then I took a second mortgage out on the house,
without telling my wife.
And when you get away with a secret second mortgage,
then it's obvious that the universe is telling you
to dip into your daughter's college fund.
Was that your bottom?
That was a couple of years later,
when I was lying in the street
with a broken kneecap and my teeth scattered all around me.
Yikes, I thought that only happened in the movies.
No, it also happens in Oakland.
One of my bookie's "Colleagues" beat me with a flashlight.
And then he kicked me, and he said,
"You still owe us the money," which to me seemed,
you know, a bit unfair.
So I went to a Gamblers Anonymous meeting
before I even went to the dentist, and of course,
I should've gone to the dentist first,
because nobody could understand a word I was saying.
That was 22 year ago, and, uh, it saved my life.
See, that's the thing.
I sit in meetings and hear story after story like yours,
but I don't relate to any of it.
My gambling looked nothing like that.
Well, there are two types of gamblers.
There are cucumbers and there are pickles.
A cucumber goes to Vegas and loses a little money
or maybe even a lot of money,
and then goes back to a regular life.
A pickle goes to Vegas, loses everything
and then moves to Vegas.
I'm pretty sure I'm a cucumber.
You may be, but you got to remember
that a cucumber can become a pickle.
But a pickle can never go back to being a cucumber.
So how do I know which one I am?
You could try a little controlled gambling,
see how that goes.
A-Are you telling me to gamble?
Is this a trap? I...
If you can gamble a little and then stop,
well, more than likely, you don't have a problem.
But you got to be careful, 'cause if it triggers
a-a bigger binge, well, then you got to call me.
I got to tell you, it's really weird
to take recovery advice from a guy who's drinking a beer.
Hard cider, but I feel you.
How you feeling?
My advice? Don't get cancer.
Making a mental note.
Mm. What kind of car is this?
An '85 Firebird.
Whoo, oh, that is a sweet ride.
Yeah. It was in 1985.
Now it's 3,000 pounds of scrap metal and a cassette player.
Well, well, still, I appreciate you driving me.
It's the least I can do.
Well, I would argue the least you can do
is remember you said you would do it.
Again, sorry about that.
Want to make it up to me?
We've been over this. I'm engaged.
Oh, no, no, no.
I'm thinking you could let me drive.
I am? Well, at least I'm still white and rich.
I don't think you driving is a good idea.
It's a terrible idea. I know that.
But right now, cancer is in charge of everything.
I'd like to be in control of something for a couple of minutes.
Even if it's only an old Firebird.
Light pole dead ahead!
Ooh. u202dOh, what is this, a V-8?
V-6, and please, slow down.
I baked you a cake!
You're gambling? You had 90 days.
It's okay, this is called "Controlled gambling."
You can't control anything.
And I've known you almost your entire life.
I bought ten scratchers.
I'm gonna do three of them and leave the rest.
Which will prove I can stop whenever I want.
This is insane.
This is like when I said I could drink on an airplane
because I'm not technically on planet Earth.
You're never technically on planet Earth.
Now back off. Ned from my GA meeting told me to do this.
Okay, which one of you idiots is Ned?!
All right, I'm gonna have a meatball sandwich,
and then we're gonna talk.
She barged into my GA meeting like a cracked out giraffe
and yelled at the guy who's helping me.
我没有大喊大叫 我不会大喊大叫 没这必要
I didn't yell, I don't yell. I don't have to yell.
You yell all the time.
Do you want me to yell? 'Cause I'll yell.
You kind of asked for that.
Look, I had my doubts about whether I need GA,
and Ned suggested I try controlled gambling.
Well, actually, Bonnie...
Work with me!
When a newcomer is really struggling
with doubts about being an alcoholic,
I have suggested trying some controlled drinking.
Why wasn't that offered to me?
Because you came to your first meeting
on a stolen lawnmower.
You weren't there.
She didn't have to be. That story's legendary.
I heard all you were wearing were
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