Shot at the Gramercy Theatre, New York
The special opens with a confrontation between Morin and a security guard (comic Leonard Ouzts), who demands to see a backstage pass. Morin insists this is his Netflix taping; the guard says he cancelled his subscription, pushes Morin against the wall, and only relents at the behest of comedian Adam Ray.
Listen, listen, listen… You’re talking. You keep talking. You keep talking. You keep talking. Can you stop talking? There you go, perfect. Here’s the deal. I told you this before and I’m not gonna tell you again, the tickets are at will call, Zac. Just go to will call. All right? I’m not lying to you. I’m not gonna trick you. I know you’re bringing a date. It’s fine. I left them at will call. I… I can’t talk about this, okay? Bye. Bye. Just get here… Ah! Fuck it! Goddamn it! Hey, what? Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey! I need to see a pass, man. You didn’t… You can’t read? That says “VIP.” You don’t look very important at all. Okay, it’s a personal attack? Umm… It’s my show, actually. – So… – It’s your show? What… I mean, who are you? I don’t even… You’re just walking up. What? Who are you? I’m Brent Morin. It’s… – Who? – Brent Morin. It’s my show. I… I have to get in there. Oh, you have to. “I have to get…” No, you don’t. You don’t have a pass, so you’re not getting in. – This is my special. – I don’t care if you’re special. I don’t care what kind of helmet you wear to school. I don’t care. No, I’m not special. I’m saying this is my special, my first comedy special for Netflix and I’m about to go on stage in five minutes. – I have to get in there, you idiot. – You’re not doing nothing for Netflix, – ’cause they cut my account off. – Look, I have to go, okay? Okay. You think I’m playing with you? I told you… – I told you… that I needed… a pass. – Did you just slap me? – Now, where… You got a pass. – I don’t have a pass. – It’s my special. – You got a… You got a pass. Whoa. Len, he’s good. Release. Release. – Yeah, dude… – No, ’cause they keep tryin’ me, Adam. I told him he need a pass. What did I tell you about strangling people back here, dude? You gotta take it down. It’s Brent Morin. It’s his special tonight. – He’s cool. All right? He’s with me. – He’s good? He’s with… – I’m sorry, man. I’m sorry. – He’s with me. This is my list. – I’m with him, we’re here together. – Hey! Hey, whoa. You’re with him? Man… – How you been, man? – I’ve been great, dude. – You’re looking good, man. – I appreciate it, man. – We gotta do drinks. – Definitely. – Get him a pass. – Dude, let it go. Let it go, take the loss. – Oh, Jesus. Do you have a pass? – Pass? Dude, what is this, PE? I just walked the fuck in. Oh, my God. That guy looks so much like me. – Okay. – You got a girl coming? Yes. Yeah, Instagram, she could be the one, or not. I don’t know. Doesn’t matter. Saved her a seat, right up front. Couldn’t look better. – Dude, it’s your night, live it up. – That’s what I’m saying. Yup, I’m grabbing him right now. Hi, Brent? Hi, I’m Laura, the stage manager. – Hi, Laura. – We’re three minutes out. – Beautiful. Thank you. – Okay? – Um, is that what you’re wearing? – Yes. Really? Uh, yeah. What the fuck? – What the fuck? – All right. He refuses to change it, guys. – What the fuck is that? – It’s his go-to. Talk about your… – You look like Drake. Don’t listen to her. – Thank you. That’s bullshit. This is your night, all right? Oh. – What the fuck… Sorry? – Sorry. You don’t seem sorry. Well, I said it, so I am. Um, Brent, this is T. She’s dope, right? What the fuck? We’re gonna need a few more minutes. So, I guess you’re not wearing that shirt? Oh, I bet you’re really happy about that. What the fuck? What’s that about? I don’t give a shit who this is. What the hell? His hair is thinning. What? Baby, that’s rude… and true. What the fuck are you doing back here? Why aren’t you with Mom and Dad? I’ve seen it. Okay, Brent, it is time to go. It is show-time. Okay. All right. Fine, I have to go, okay? – Intro music. What you coming… – Come out to Hall & Oates. – Who gives a shit? – Ooh. – Yeah. – They got like five slaps. Slappin’, all the songs. What the fuck are you talking about? No, I’m not dealing with any lingo right now, okay? I have to go and I will have to change and I don’t get to wear my goddamn Drake sweater! And I thank you, T, I appreciate it. Yeah, keep looking at me like that. I… Goddamn! Make it loud, keep those hands clapping. Give it up for Brent Morin!
New York! Hey! Yeah. It’s not gonna get better than that. That was awesome. Holy shit. I wish every girl that turned me down was here right now. That’d be awesome. Fuck you. I was gonna say a name, but I realized if I said it, maybe they’re here and it’ll be really weird. So I’m not gonna do that. Oh, man. New York, New York. I’m an east coast kid, Connecticut, let’s not judge me. Yeah! So white. This whole audience is white. I just realized that. This is the whitest audience I’ve ever seen in my entire life. This is the cutest shit I’ve ever seen. It’s like a fucking CW show in here right now. This is who I bring out, huh, just tax payers? I have nobody edgy? Goddamn it! I gotta get a scandal. All right, shut up. Focus. Sorry. I gotta get into it. Okay. All right, look, here’s the deal. I got some… Okay, just… All right. Shut up.
I had a girl leave me for a magician, recently. Why is it funny? It happens. Maybe it doesn’t happen. Maybe, at Hogwarts it happens. I don’t know if it happens in real life. But it happened to me. First off, we weren’t boyfriend-girlfriend. Let me explain that, okay? I’m a single man, I like being a single man. Being a single man is fun, I enjoy it. And when you’re single you don’t have to deal with that confrontation. What usually happens is you hook up for a few months then you go your separate ways, then maybe you run into each other and you have that half sentence conversation. You know, like, “Wow. I know. Hi. Bye.” You know, that shit. So, I’m at a party, I see this girl, I assume we’re about to have that conversation. I am. But she walks up to me and the way she started this, I realize that we weren’t gonna have that conversation. She walked up to me and this is the first thing she says, she goes, “Hey, Brent, hi. Um, listen, I’ve been meaning to talk to you…” Any time a girl has to verbalize a breathing, that’s like… The second she did that, my heart was sweating. You ever had your heart sweat before? Like, you’re in high school and you call your teacher “Mom” for no reason, you ever do that shit? Am I the only one who got caught off guard in the morning? Like, “Hey, Brent.” “Hey, Mom. Fuck!” “What’d you say? Shut the fuck up, Elliot! Don’t tell anybody.” So, now my heart is sweating and I’m at this party and I’m with my good friends. What I mean by that is I’m with my worst friends, okay? So, they hear this… Like, it’s a dog whistle and immediately they’re like, “Holy shit. Everybody, get in. Get in. No, get in. It could be an STD. She could say STD. No. Bring in all the pretty girls from the back. Everybody, come in. Please be pregnant. Please be pregnant.” Like, he’s doing that shit. So, now I’m sitting there, my heart is sweating, she’s there, friends, strangers all around and this is what she says to me, word for word, she goes, “Look, um, the reason why I, kind of, fell off the map is… Okay, so, I started dating this magician.” Now, you ever think that you heard something, but you’re like, “There’s no fucking way I just heard that.” You know, you’re like, “Did you say penis party?” They’re like, “No, I said let’s go to a fucking Blockbuster.” Whatever. Even though Blockbuster isn’t open. That was a terrible reference, you know what I mean. It’s gone. Netflix. Hey! Ha! So she says, “Magician.” Understand, that’s obviously not what I think somebody’s gonna say to me. So, I immediately go, “I’m sorry, what did you say?” My friend leans in and goes, “She said she left you for a magician.” “She left him for a magician. She left him… No, no, no, it’s worse than an STD. Tell all your pretty friends. Yeah, a magician, like one of those circus freaks. Yeah.” Here’s the problem I have with that. Why say magician, why say magician, like that’s a normal job, like that’s something you could say in life? You might as well say puppeteer. Don’t fucking just say magician, like magic’s real. Nobody’s flying home tonight. You’re not dating David Blaine. ‘Cause here’s the problem I have. I don’t think there’s a lot of middle class magicians. I think you’re either rich and we know you, or you’re poor with a rabbit, okay? For real. I don’t think you go to a cul-de-sac in the suburbs and see a guy pushing a push mower with a fucking cape on. I don’t think that happens. Fucking magician, really? A magician.
I know you wonder why I’m being shitty towards magicians. As a fellow entertainer, I should appreciate that. Like, what happened with me and a magician. Like, was my dad a magician and left us? I know I have that energy right now. Like, I was eight, getting ready for baseball and my dad’s like, “Bye, son.” Puff! Papa? Papa? Papa? I don’t know why I’m saying, “Papa.” I assume your dad’s a magician from the old country, wherever the fuck that is. Honestly, I just like to picture all my childhood memories, like, me as a little Italian boy from the 1900s. For real. For real, like, it’s bad. I’ve been doing this, like, that was the best time to be a kid. I wish I was a little Italian boy from the 1900s. You ever see a picture of one of those kids? Baggy clothes, obviously from the brother that just died. You know, they got the hand-me-downs. They always look tired as shit. Papa… Always yelling at their mom, “Mama! Papa, he poof!” “Fuck this I go!” “Where are you going?” “I go to America, I be a comedian.” And that’s how I got here. That’s so stupid. I’m the biggest idiot. You’re starting to realize why I’m single, by the way. This is… This is true. I’m actually trying to find a picture of a little Italian boy from the 1900s, this is real, so that I could frame it, like, a good frame, like, a good frame, not that cheap shit, like, a good frame and put it in my house next to, like, my family photos, so that when women come over and go, “Who’s that?” I could be like, “That’s me as a child.” Then they just never bring it up again. Because my hope is that they go to brunch the next day, and her friends are like, “So, how is he?” She’s gotta be like, “Um, you know, I think he’s, like, 100.” This is so stupid. You know what’s even dumber than that? Some of you don’t believe me, I’m actually trying to do this. I’m on the road and I realize, “Oh, my project…” ‘Cause that’s what I call these things. I don’t have a day job. I’m just like, “Oh, I got that project I have to do.” So, I Google Image little Italian boys from the 1900s. Yeah, you see how you got it right away? It took me, like, two days to realize that’s not something you Google Image. So I panicked and I, like, deleted the history. And then my friend was like, “So, let me get this straight, you Google Imaged little Italian boys from 1900s. Then, two days later, you deleted it. So, basically, what you’re saying is, you looked at ’em, got what you wanted and got rid of the evidence.” Because it’s not like I Google Searched it. You Google Search it, it could be a project, who knows, like an actual project. It could be a family tree. Google Image just goes, “I wanna look at ’em.” You know what I mean? I don’t know who red flags this shit, but I’m definitely red flagged. There’s no way in hell I’m not. Whoever was doing it was like, “Boss… Boss, we got a weird one. You gotta get in here. No, he’s specific.” So, the magician showed up. Showed up to the party. Hot. So fucking hot. I don’t even think he opened the door. I think it just opened. You know? And he was just there. You’re just like… Uh… Like, I made that noise. I saw him and I went… “Uh…” Like… Like, if I slept with him, it’s not gay, you understand what I’m saying, like, a hot guy. He’s probably named Shiloh, or Skyler, or Ashley they’re all girl names from the future. ‘Cause there’s a big difference between a good looking guy and a hot guy. Hot guys get away with things they shouldn’t be allowed to get away with. Like, a hot guy can wear, like, a deep V T-shirt. So deep, like, so deep. Where did you find this? Like, to the belt. Who sold this to you, a pirate? Where the fuck did you find this? Just wear a deep V tee, with, like, a wool scarf, ’cause they don’t sweat, and like, a goddamn Indiana Jones hat, with rain boots and army pants, and like, a wooden cross that they made, ’cause they’re so “artistic.” Skip a line at a night club and the bouncer’s like, “Yeah, let him in.” Like, that’s a vampire. Who the fuck did you just let in? Like, I’m out here in a prom outfit, dressed like Cory Matthews, and you let this fucking person in. I know who I am.
It’s a great luxury as a hot guy. I don’t have that luxury, I know that, okay? Like, Brad Pitt, I saw a picture of Brad Pitt recently. Fifty, fifty, he had blond hair down to here. What? What do you have, a castle on a cloud? How the fuck? How do you raise a family that beautiful? Like, as a father, you need to be able to intimidate your boys. How are you doing that when you’re gorgeous? Like, at the park, like, “Hey! Get over here. Get over here. Get… Oh! Hey, don’t make me come over there.” “Yeah, I’m talking to you. Get the fuck over here right now. I’m not gonna ask again. I’m not gonna ask again. You trying to show off for your friends, that’s what you’re fucking doing now? That’s it. Angie, give me a scrunchy. I’m hitting the kids. Give me a fucking scrunchy. Hold the rings, I haven’t finished. Give me this shit! And put some weight on, all right? You’re scaring the shit out of me in the hallways, it’s like fucking a priest. Where’d he go? Where did the Asian one go?” “Son of a bitch!” This is how all hot guys look all the time. Like, the sun bothers them. You ever notice, they laugh like they don’t know what laughing is. Just, “Ha-ha-ha-ha.” “Ha-ha-ha-ha.” “It’s just too ugly out here.” You ever think hot guys get mad, then realize they’re hot and immediately don’t get mad? Like, “Son of a bitch!” “Everything’s gonna be fine.” Well, I’m so happy my dad isn’t hot. Hear me out, that sounds bad. He’s here too, so this is weird, but… What I mean is, my dad looks like a “dad.” He looks like a “father,” you know what I mean? That’s where I wanna get in life. I wanna get to the age where I don’t care anymore. I give a shit, I care. I put this outfit on, I looked in the mirror, I hated it, I changed. I put another outfit on, I looked in the mirror, I put this back on. I shaved my neck, so I’ve a better chin. I got blue curtains, so my eyes pop. Everything’s planned. I don’t wanna do it anymore. I wanna get to the age where I don’t give a fuck. Get that E.T. body. You know, you don’t know if they’re skinny or fat, it just looks comfortable. That’s where I wanna get. My dad was a world-class athlete. One day, just posture gone, no muscle definition, stomach out, no ass, no chin. Like, fucking Kermit just walking around. Get that walk. I wanna get that life cough. You know, that cough that, like, some shit went wrong in the past… You know, like… That’s where I wanna get. You know, before they found out some shit’s really bad for you… “Fuck. Worked at a coal mine when I was eight.” You’re like, “Yeah, yeah.” I wanna get that cough in my life. My dad doesn’t really… My dad is my hero, first off. Most selfless human being I’ve ever met, all he cares about is other people. If I could be half the father he was, I’d be the greatest father in the world. What I used to love doing, though, in high school, was making him mad at me. Because my father was an older father and when he would yell at me, he’d run out of breath, mid-yell. And the second I discovered that shit, it was the greatest thing in my life. I’ll never forget it. I used to skip school a lot, because I was an average student. Greatest luxury of my life, being an average student. So I hated it. Both my parents are teachers, that doesn’t fly in our house, okay? My dad would come home and yell at me, but he’d run out of breath, and when I discovered this, this was the greatest thing in the world. My dad comes in, mad as shit. He goes, “Hey! You’re gonna skip school? Maybe you stay at home all summer, you’re not even gonna play baseball…” And my little brother knows me so well, he’s like, “Don’t do it.” I’m like, “I gotta keep doing it.” I was like, “Dad, I missed half of that.” “Oh, you wanna be smart? Maybe you don’t go to prom, we’ll make you go to Blackman’s, you’re gonna get movies for the family. You’ll fuckin’ watch movies with us…” My mom’s like, “You’re killing your father!” My dad’s shrinking, too. It’s fucking hilarious, ’cause my dad’s really good at speeches. He gives great speeches, life speeches, he’s always been great at it. But he’s getting shorter. You know what I mean? He’s just getting a little bit shorter. And the great thing about him is that he doesn’t buy clothes. That’s where I wanna get. My dad just puts on what’s around. Seventy years old, he walks out in cargo shorts. First off, if you’re an adult man and you wear cargo shorts, and you don’t work at Jurassic Park, what the fuck are you doing? Why do you need these? Are you taking the woods to work? Where are you going, Dad? But he’ll just put cargo shorts on, dress socks, flip-flops, a girls’ college lacrosse sweater. I don’t know where he got it, I don’t have a sister, nobody’s ever played lacrosse. He puts on a golf visor, he’s like, “All right, come on, let’s go to church.” Like, “No, nobody’s going to church. You look like you fell into Goodwill.” But he’s shrinking, he’s shrinking. And it’s the funniest shit in the world, because he’s wearing the same clothes. It’s like he’s wearing Shaq’s clothes now. I just… Okay, this is really weird, what I’m about to do. I’m just curious, how short is he gonna get? Like, am I gonna come home, ten years form now, on Christmas… Ten years from now, on Christmas, I’m gonna be like, “Where’s Dad? “Psst. Down here.” “Dad? Why are you dressed like a gnome?” “There’s something I never told you.” “Why do you talk like Regis Philbin? How can nobody see you right now?” “Close your eyes.” Puff! “Jesus Christ, what is that?” “Get down here, quickly.” “What am I doing right now?” “Hold my hand.” “Jesus, it’s so little.” “Hurry, hurry.” “Dad, I gotta be honest, you’re moving quick, but we’re not going anywhere. This is on you. Where are you taking me?” “I wanna introduce you to your real family.” “What? Why are we going behind the Christmas tree? Jesus Christ, Dad, what is that beautiful little door?” “Follow me, quickly.” “Dad, I’m not gonna fit.” “Believe.” “Believe?” “Wow! This place is beautiful. There’s so many slides. What the fuck was that?” “That’s your cousin Boom-Boom.” “What?” “This is your uncle Zumba, and Gumbala and Duko.” “Wait a minute, is this shit gonna happen to me?” “Yes, you’re not hot.” So, back to the party with the magician. So… He brought his cards. Stop! We get it, you’re mystical. Why’d you gotta bring the fucking cards? I don’t bring a microphone to a party. I’m not in the kitchen, like, “That reminds me of this time…” I’m not doing that shit. So, I got drunk. I got drunk. I love to drink, okay? I may have a problem, you know what I mean? I realize, if you say it cute, you get away with it. It’s the worst time in history to be a drunk, by the way, hands down. We’re too connected as people now. These smart phones, like… I shouldn’t be able to get drunk, alone, in my bedroom, with the door locked and ruin everything. You could ruin your entire life, if you have enough apps. Have you thought about that? You can. You can go to Amazon, already connected to your credit card, you just start buying shit. Drone just drops off a trampoline tomorrow, you know, in your fucking yard. You could e-mail your boss. Yeah, now you’re thinking about it, huh? You ever been drunk mad? It’s the least justified mad you’ll ever be in your life. You don’t even need to know an e-mail anymore. All you need is a first letter. “T” for Ted, subject, all caps, “Fuck you, Ted!” And you just let him have it, you’re wasted, like, “You know what, Ted? You’re fucking stupid, your business plan is shit, your daughter smells like toast. Fuck you! Fuck the offices.” Three more lines, “Z-D-B-B-D-D-D-B-B-B.” A thousand exclamation points, ’cause you fell asleep for a second. Three more lines under… “Huh?” ‘Cause you forgot it was an e-mail, it’s just a blank page. Then you’re like, “Oh, yeah! And your wife’s a little whorey,” spelled “houry” but he gets it, you know, he knows what it is. “See you Monday. Eh!” You know. Then you write him back immediately after, “Fuck you, Ted! Part two.” Devil face. Devil face. Devil face. Devil face. Three more spaces, “Come over.” ‘Cause you thought it was a text. Two more spaces. “Oh, yeah, what I meant by whorey…” still spelled “houry,” “…is your wife’s a slut.” Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Ja-ja-ja-ja-ja-ja-ja-ja-ja-ja! It’s scary, you have to think about this stuff. I could Instagram my dick. I’m not going to, I don’t get it, okay? I’m just saying you don’t have the option of thinking before you do something. There’s nothing in Instagram that goes, “That’s a dick.” You know what I mean? I could do that, that’s terrifying. That could happen. And I don’t send dick pics, I’ve had girls ask. I’ve had guys who say it’s their closer. How? This is the worst part of a guy. Worst. Dicks look like unfinished aliens, there’s nothing appealing. They look like they came out before arms and legs, you know what I mean? Like, if dicks could speak, with the little mouth, they’d be like… Sorry. I feel like some of you think I have a weird dick. Yeah, you just nodded yes. No, my dick is fine, okay? He’s a good man, he’s a good guy. I know who I am. Okay? I’m not gonna be, “You want that big dick?” I never do that. I would never be that guy. I know who I am. Like, if my dick was a teenager, you’d trust him to take your daughter to prom. You understand what I’m saying? Shut up. Here’s what I’m saying, if I’m naked, a girl’s not gonna be like, “Oh.” But she’s not gonna be like, “Oh.” She’ll just be like, “Oh.” You know what I mean? Like, it’s not gonna come up the next day, you know? Unless, somebody brings it up, like, “How’s the dick?” “Oh, yeah. No, it’s fine.” You know? That’s what’s gonna happen. Shut up. My point is I wish I grew up when rotary phones were the main communication. Nobody was drunk dialing on a rotary phone. You know how hard that would’ve been? I envy those guys back in the day. Just two drunk guys coming back, one dude’s like, “I’m gonna call her.” His buddy, “Don’t.” He’s like, “I’m doing it, man. I love her, all right. Shut up! I don’t care if she’s married. She needs to know right now that I love her, okay? I’m gonna fucking tell her right now! No, I don’t give a shit if they had a kid, she needs to fucking know. Okay? She needs to know right now that… Shut up! She needs to know. Which one do I go up and then back around real quick? I can’t see shit, ’cause you got the plastic on it. I can’t see anything. Because you’re poor, Jebediah. Get over here and help me. Why is your name Jebediah? It’s 1968, you got a weird family. I bet your dad’s a fucking magician.” Fucking magic. So, back to the party. Drunk, people trying to give me shit, my friends trying to give me shit. Here’s the deal, you grow up a little bit, you get less embarrassed, notice that? It’s nice. You get a little less embarrassed. The bubble expands and you get less embarrassed. It’s not like high school.
Isn’t it interesting that high school was the most embarrassing time of your life, but it really was the easiest time of your life. It really was, you know. Like, everything was the end of the world in high school. Remember reading out loud? Why did we have to do that? Did anybody here actually learn how to read… from that cock-blocking experience that I had to go through? Anybody else have to stand? Did you have to stand? Yeah. Why? What is it, a play? What the fuck am I standing for? My teacher would skip turns. Did you ever think you were, like, fourth, so you memorize four ahead? I’m not even listening to a reading now, because I’m trying to memorize a chapter. Because in my mind, I think if I read well, Laurie will give me a hand-job. That’s where my fucking head is. And nobody in the history of school is ever given a hand-job for good reading, never. No girl in the cheerleading squad has been like, “Why’d you fuck that guy?” “He’s really good at reading.” That never happened. My teacher would just skip. She’d go, “Let’s have fun with it. Okay… Brent, can you please stand and stop shaking… and read the complicated book that you never read before, while you go through puberty and get hard for no reason?” Remember that? Remember getting hard in high school? That’s a dick I wish I had. I know I talked about my dick a minute ago, but that’s my adult dick. My high school dick knew what he was doing, he was a go-getter. I wish I knew how to use him in high school, he was like Rudy. You know what I mean? Like, he had… No, he was great. Like, “We practiced for the prom!” You know what I mean? Like, he was just so good. I don’t know if you girls were aware of that. We would just get hard. I would just yawn at 8:00 a.m. and be hard as shit in math class. Did you ever try to take a math test hard and not look like a serial killer in your fucking life? I failed the math test. 51, I got a 51 on the test. Hard the entire test. Forty-five minutes, just painfully hard. I thought it was gonna come out and be like… Like, I thought that was gonna happen. Just rubbing up against the JNCO jeans I thought were in style. I’ll never forget this test, I’ll never forget it. It’s the only test I remember. I was so hard and I’d never study, I was an average student, I told you that. I didn’t care. So, I’m sitting there and I’m like, “Okay, here we go. All right, I’m rock hard. Okay, here we go. Okay, here we go. Here we go, all right. Yeah, great test. Excited. So excited. Yeah, can’t wait. Why the fuck is she always looking at me? Okay, here we go. All right, here we go. Still hard. Still rock hard, okay. You got this. You don’t need to study. You’re a smart guy. Just get into it. Just have fun with it. It’s math. Math… Okay. Common sense. Here we go, question one. Okay, ‘The Pythagorean theorem is…’ Okay, question two, question two. ‘Show work.’ Fuck you. I don’t need to show work. Excited, yeah. It’s great. What the fuck? She’s still looking at me. Okay, here we go. You know what, let’s go to page two. You don’t have to start on one. Why you wanna start on one? You’re gonna conform, dude? Go ahead. No, here we go. Page two, here we go. Page two. I don’t know any of those shapes. Page three. This isn’t NASA. Page four. It’s just a blank page. This is just a blank, ‘Show work on page.’ You want me to sketch math, goddammit? Excited. Yeah, just getting a… Goddamn, she’s still looking at me. You fucking bitch. Here we go. You know what? Let’s go back to page one, let’s cheat. Wanna go to college, gotta cheat. Sometimes you gotta cheat to go to college. Here we go. It’s okay. Still hard. Still hard. Rock hard. It’s hurting even more. Here we go. Now she’s not looking, we’re gonna look over here. Here we go. Is that a calculator? Do we need a fucking calculator for this test? Shit. Miss Fields?” “Yes, Brent.” “I don’t have a calculator.” “Come to the front and get one.” “Um…” “You know what, I’m in it. I’m into the test. Is there any way you could bring it to me?” “Can I bring it to you? Do you think that’s what life is, Brent, people bringing you things? What if I call your parents, educators like myself, and tell them that your son wants me to bring him things? This is why you’re failing in class, this is why you may not graduate high school. This is why you and I are having a disconnect and we need to discuss this.” “Shut up, Miss Fields! We know you got divorced. Okay, I know for a fact, she’s looking at me and I am still rock hard.” You know what I thought about, though, to this day, was there another guy in that class who had an angle on me taking that test? ‘Cause it’s one thing to, like, I knew what was going on, but if you didn’t, that had to be the weirdest experience of your life. Just some other guy, across the way, “All right, here we go. Carry the two and you gotta… Yo… Yo. Look at Brent right now. I’m not gay, look down. Are you looking down? Is he hard right now? Dude, he’s hard right now. He must love math.” “Dude, he doesn’t even have a calculator over there, look at him.” Here’s why I hated reading out loud, though. You thought I lost it, but I didn’t. I’m coming back. ‘Cause my voice would crack. Here’s where that sucks, even if the class didn’t catch it, if my friend Elliot was in that class, he called me out in front of everybody. Anybody had that friend, he’s your best friend, but he’s your worst friend? He never talked, but the second I was like “In 1944…” he was like… Oh! Ho-ho! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! “Brent’s a virgin! Yeah, he told me, he cried. He cried at my house, he told me. Remember that shit? Everybody, look how red he’s getting. Look. Look. Miss Wagner, sit down. He’s my best friend. I’m allowed to do this shit. Please, sit down. Sit the fuck down for two minutes, please. Look at you! I’m gonna tell her. I don’t give a shit. Yo, Laurie, guess what? He’s in love with you. I caught him jerking off to your yearbook photo at my house. He sleeps over all the time, ’cause his parents are poor and they’re gonna get a divorce. Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Fuck you, Brent! You sleeping over this weekend? All right, I’m gonna go. I’m going to detention. I’m going. I don’t give a shit, it was worth it. Fuck this” It was always worth it to get suspended to ruin my life. I never understood that shit. The hardest thing was to ask somebody out. That was the hardest thing to do in high school. That was the worst. Now I don’t care, I get turned down every day. Every fucking day. “Hey.” “No.” “Fine.” Drink, back to me. I wish we had a bar in high school. That’d be the best. Just go down to the fucking cafeteria, just a weird old guy, “What’s wrong?” “I got turned down for prom.” “I’ll get you fucked up, get you the Spanish…” You know what I mean? Here’s why it sucked. If you got turned down, like I said, my guy friends had no sympathy, but you girls would go and tell everybody right away. ‘Cause you had to, it’s not your fault. You had to do it. You had empathy for the situation, where you had to tell everybody. And you’d find anybody. Didn’t even have to be a good friend, it’d be the first person. Like, “Oh, my God, get over here. Ugh! Why is it you? Sherry, come on. Ugh! You suck. Listen. You are so gross. Listen. You’re the worst. Look at you. Focus. Focus. Bitch. Bitch. Okay, are you looking? Are you there? Thank you. Okay. You won’t believe who just asked me out. You know Brent Morin, the kid with the big head and the whatever body? Anyway. So, he walks up to me, sweating so much and he was covered in sweat, and he was holding his books tight like this. I’m like, ‘Did you just see a monster, what the fuck happened?’ Anyway, focus. So, he starts trying to make jokes and talking about a clown day, then he tried to do a cartwheel, fell on his back and knocked the wind out of himself. Fifteen minutes I was late for class. Then, out of nowhere he gets up and turns bright red, can’t even make eye contact and he goes, ‘Um, I was just wondering if you wanted to go to the movies with me on Saturday?’ I was like, ‘No, I have a boyfriend.’ And he goes like, ‘Me too.’ And he just walked away. Did you know he was gay? And I heard he can’t read.” You know, I talk shit about high school, but I loved high school. Like I said, the greatest luxury of my life was being an average student, loved it. I was a popular kid, I had a lot of friends, life was great. What I would do is I would luck into situations. Like, when I was 17 years old, I was dating this 22-year-old dancer. Not stripper, but probably. You don’t ask a lot of questions at 17. But I’ll never forget this, okay? Because what would happen is I’d luck into something, but then I could ruin something. It was weird. Like, she said to me this, she goes, “Um, listen, I want you to come over. I wanna cook you dinner and then maybe we could do some other stuff.” So my heart is racing, my dick is tingling, I’m a virgin at the time. I’m thinking I’m gonna lose my virginity to a woman at her place, ’cause I lived with my parents. So, I went home and I dressed up. Like, dressed up, like it was communion. I don’t know what the fuck I was doing. Like, I was dressed up. My dad was like, “Where are you going?” I was like, “The movies.” He was like, “A premiere? Where the fuck are you going?” So I go to her house and here’s the problem, at 17, I didn’t know how to open up a sexual conversation. I didn’t know. Did you just show up naked in an over-sized coat? You know, she opens the door and I’m like, “Hey, fucking dessert.” You know? I didn’t know. I didn’t know how to open a sexual conversation. So, we’re sitting there, we have dinner, everything’s going well, I’m rock hard under the table, Rudy’s like, “I wanna play!” You know what I mean, like, it’s happening. But I don’t know how to do it, so now she’s in the kitchen, she’s washing the dishes. About two and a half hours in, I start to panic. I realize, I gotta make a move, I gotta man up. I gotta be a man and let her know that I’m here for sex, I wanna become a man tonight. This shit is happening tonight. Also, I have curfew in a half hour, so I had to make this shit happen. So, I go into the kitchen, I decide I’m not gonna think before I speak, that’s when I get in trouble. I’m just gonna walk in and instinctually say something, which was a terrible fucking idea. So, I walk in, I turn the faucet off, I turn her my way and she’s like, “What?” And I said something, to this day, I have zero idea what it means. I looked at her and I said, “Hey, you know what I was… thinking? You and me, we should play house.” Yeah, I have no fucking idea what that means, right? Then she looked at me and this is what she said, she goes, “Sweetheart… you wouldn’t even know what to do with me.” Yeah, and I was like… I couldn’t think of anything to say. I fucking panicked. Like, I felt like there was a construction site in my head with, like, a pissed off foreman. Like, “We need words! He looks like an idiot out there! Somebody get some fucking words, please! Hurry! We’re gonna blow this shit!” Some guy comes in, like, “Hey, Donnie, all we got is pictures of pandas down here. Little pandas… What? We got a weird head. Don’t look at me, it’s not my fault. He’s a weird kid.” So, I don’t know why I did what I did next but I couldn’t get anything out, so I just picked her up and I threw her on the kitchen counter. And she loved that. I didn’t know she’d like that. In fact, she liked it too much. Because she went from sexy to scaring the shit out of me very fucking quickly. She went from, “Yeah,” to, “Yeah, you fucking want it?” And I was like, “I’m not ready.” You know what I mean, like, I immediately… Like, Rudy put his jersey down, “I don’t wanna play.” And he just checked out, you know? This is something billionaires pay for, in their 50s. This is the only time that you get this kind of girl. She starts looking at me, “Come on, you fucking pussy, you want me?” I’m like… Like, I… I had, like, reverse puberty. I was like, “Oh, man I’m six.” You know? Like, I was not ready for this. So then she pulls me in, then she takes her claw, and I say claw ’cause it had to be a fucking claw. And she just put it into my back and I just saw the past. I saw me as a little Italian boy, like, “Papa…” You know, just fucking gone. So I’m just gone, right? And then she rips my tie off. Yeah, I was wearing a tie. She rips it off. And then she kicks me against her table. Right? So, now I’m against the table and she jumps on me and… rips my shirt open. Which is hot, right? Well, apparently, I didn’t think so, because the only words that came out of my mouth were, “My buttons!” Like, my heart was sweating. It was like “Mom” all over again. You ever just say… I don’t know where it came from. I felt like… The same voice and same hand, by the way, just, “My buttons!” Like, I was on a Broadway play and that was my only line, just, “My buttons!” Honestly, I could picture the construction site. The foreman would be like, “Who the fuck put that out there? Tommy, was that you?” “Yeah, you know me, I like trouble. Let’s get outta here, he ain’t getting laid. He’s gonna be a comedian.” Now, here’s why I tell you that. This is why I tell you this. Here’s why. Because I think it’s good to have embarrassing moments in your life. I think having embarrassing moments growing up helps build character. I think it helps build a person. I feel like kids today are growing up so fast, they’re skipping that shit. They are. Everything I read about them, there’s no innocence. Like kids are getting blowjobs in the bus now. What? What magic school bus Ms. Frizzle shit? Seriously, what beautiful trip to school did I miss? How does any boy miss the bus? Even if you’re not the kid who gets the blowjob in the morning, you still have to wake up and be like, “Maybe, today.” You have to. You know who I feel bad for, though? I feel bad for the mom, the stay-at-home mom who has to deal with the kid who does get the blowjob in the morning, and that kid misses the bus. Because that has to be the biggest temper tantrum of all time. There’s no way where she’s like, “Honey, you’re gonna be late…” “For school! I know, you didn’t fucking wake me up. Shit! Kyle! Hold that bus, don’t be shitty!” Mom, the French toast sticks, let’s go, come on, we’re late.” “They’re not ready.” What the fuck is going on with you, Mom? Go, get the goddamn sticks! Goddamn it, Kyle! Fuck! The bus left. Are you fucking happy? Shit! We got nine iPads in the house, you can’t set one fucking alarm? I have an A average, Mom. I have a test, I need to clear my fucking head! You’re such a bitch. You’re a straight bitch, Dad’s right.” “Why are you mad?” “You wanna know why I’m mad? You really wanna fucking know? Okay, fine, cat’s out of the bag. Here’s the deal, you got one job, all right? Wake me up, French toast sticks, get my dick sucked, go to class! Now you gotta drive me to school. I’m jerking off in the car.” “No, you’re not.” “Yes, I am.” “This is boring, my friends aren’t here. The French toast sticks, Mom.” “I’m not getting in there.” “Then wait in the house and leave the heat on, it’s freezing.” You know what I like to picture? I like to picture, like, a really content neighbor next door, who, like, loves his life, been married for 40 years, just coming out in, like, a bathrobe, just being like… “What a beautiful morning, huh? This is great. Hey, Debbie, get down here. You gotta see this, it’s a good day.” “I’m getting ready.” “All right… Love life. Hell, yeah.” “What’s going on over there? That the Anderson kid? What’s he doing in that car? Windows are fogging up pretty good. And he looks pissed. What, is he jerking off? You can’t jerk off pissed, you’ll rip your dick off. Hey! Hey! Hey, Debbie, get down here. The Anderson kid is gonna rip his dick off. Hey! Hey, you’re gonna rip your dick off. Yeah. Yeah, you’re gonna rip your dick off! Don’t be angry. Oh, he flipped me off. Debbie!” It’s the most ridiculous shit. You know what even is more baffling now, is how kids are sleeping with their teachers. We could have done that? Who discovered that? What Christopher Columbus pioneer kid… Seriously, especially, at 13. Thirteen years old, as a guy, is the most insecure time in your life. What cocky, arrogant, 13-year-old kid would sit in the back of Spanish class with his friends, looking at the teacher, like, “Dibs.” Like, even if you wanted her and thought she wanted you, like, how do you open up flirting, for real? It’s hard enough to hit on a girl in a grocery store. How, as a 13-year-old, do you think she’s interested? What’s your sign? What, do you get, like, a “See me” on your test, and took it a different way? She’s like, “Okay, Billy, I needed to talk to you about your test.” “Why don’t we put that away, here’s what’s gonna happen. Have you been playing games with me, Miss Hagadorn?” “Billy, what are you doing?” “‘Billy, what are you doing?’ Shut up, you bitch. “Now, here’s the deal. You got a weird face, you’re not attractive, you’ve aged, you cry, have these fucking bags, you’re a mess, but I need you.” “Billy, your dick is out.” “I like the air. Now… Here’s what’s gonna happen. We’re gonna go to dinner, Macaroni Grill. You’re buying. You can get whatever you like. I’m gonna color. They got good crayons there, you know? They got magenta, I love magenta!” “Lower your voice.” “Fuck you. I’m an artist. You don’t know that about me, you don’t know a lot of things about me. I also play baseball, Little League, All-Star team, switch-hitter. My dad’s the coach. He’s… He’s a grumpy man, business isn’t well… Plumbing is not too good. Anyway, I went in, he was watching the game yesterday. I said, ‘Dad, I gotta talk to you.’ He says, ‘Not now.’ I said, ‘Dad, I gotta talk to you.’ He said, ‘What do you need?’ I said, ‘I think I wanna fuck Miss Hagadorn.’ He says, ‘Why? She’s weird.’ I said, ‘I know, but I need her.’ Anyway, he gave me this permission slip that says I get to fuck you, so…” “Here’s what I’m thinking. After dinner, we go back to your house, I build a fort in your house. It’s gonna be about ten rooms, two stories, you’re not gonna know how I did it. Then I’m gonna get naked, I’m gonna run around in there and I’m gonna hide and you’re gonna try and find me. You’re not gonna find me. Then, once I decide I’m ready, I’m gonna crawl up that duck-dress you wear everyday and you’re gonna make a man out of me. Now, it’s not gonna be good… …but after that, I gotta leave. I got homework, that’s your fault. So, what do you say, Miss Hagadorn? You wanna make a man out of me?” “Billy… The whole class is still here.” Oh, my God. So, back to the party with the magician. So, now I’m drunk, he’s doing tricks, he looks great. I’m sad. I decide, I’m getting out, I’m leaving. I don’t say “bye” anymore. I’m done with byes. I Irish exit. If you don’t know what that is basically- Yes, everybody knows what it is, so I don’t have to explain. Just get the fuck out. Who cares? But I added something to it that you guys can use. Here’s what you do, you say one thing you really wanna do and then leave. You go, “Man, I’d love a bath.” Then leave and your friends will be like, “Where the fuck are you?” “I’m in a bath.” “You were serious?” “Yes, I said I wanted a bath.” Then you’re good, okay? I go home, I’m depressed now, I’m sad. I go to my room. I’m drunk, I decide I’m gonna YouTube some sad shit. Not like, “Hey, I’m gonna kill myself.” Just like, “Let me get a good cry in, before bed.” Like, you’ve never done that? You’ve never done that shit on YouTube? So, I start searching and I stumbled across the British X Factor. You ever seen that in your life? Not the American one. These kids have it too good. You have to do the British one, with the little orphan kids ’cause that hits the heart right away. That will get you immediately. Where the host is like, “What’s your name?” Kid’s like, “I don’t have a name.” Like, I’m just drunk and naked in my room, I have to pause it, like, “Give me a minute. Why doesn’t he have a name? You could have a name. Name yourself. You can name yourself ‘Steel’ and have fun with it.” I turned it back on, it was even worse. The host is like, “Where are your shoes?” Kid’s like, “I’ve never owned shoes before.” I’m like, “Pause! I mean, give him shoes! The show can give him shoes! You’re gonna let him walk around England with no shoes? It’s all stone roads, I think.” I turned it back on, it was even worse. The host is like, “Have you ever sang before?” Kid’s like, “Um… Actually, I’ve never sang, but… I figured, if I sing from my heart… then maybe my parents can hear me and have, like, a family again.” “That’s it, pause. I don’t need to hear you sing. You’ll be my son. I’ll find you. I’m gonna find you. I know, I’m drunk and naked, and I’m talking to a computer right now, but I’m gonna find you. I don’t know how, ’cause you don’t have a fucking name. But I’ll find you and I’ll get you any shoe you want. All right? And I’ll name you. You could be Brent. We’ll both be Brent. That’s a good name. And I’ll get you little suits. I’ll get you the little suits. So, we’d go to lunch, I will hold your hand and I’ll make you go to the host, you’ll be like, ‘Table for two.’ They’ll be like, ‘Is that his son, or a little business partner?’ They’re not gonna know. I’ll find you right now. Google, ‘little orphan boys with no names from England.’ Fuck!” They’re like, “Boss, he’s getting weirder!” Side note, the only thing worse than getting caught jerking off by your roommate, is getting caught crying naked, while watching orphans sing on The X Factor. I’ve never seen a more confusing entrance in my entire life. My roommate, who is my cousin, that I have to see at every family function, just walked in and had, like, six emotions in seven seconds. I’ve never seen anything like it. He goes, “Hey, you wanna eat? Holy Shit! Ha-ha-ha-ha! What are you doing? Ha! I gotta move!” So, I woke up the next day, and I started laughing, immediately. No, I did. Here’s why. Because I realized it was ego. It was just ego. I did shit with the ego and it fucked me up. Because here is me, okay, in life. Biggest romantic you’ve ever known. Growing up, loved love, that’s all I cared about. I was a six-year-old kid who would look out his bedroom window, see Laurie ride her bicycle by and be like, “One day, she’ll be mine.” I was. Then my little brother, who’s gay, would come out and be like, “You’re being a faggot.” You know what I mean, like… That’s how bad I am. That’s all I thought about. Like I said, I was an average student, so I used to skip school and see every romantic comedy, every romance movie. And there was a magic to it, ’cause I used to think that’s all that matters. Somebody is gonna walk in, time’s gonna stop and that’s it. That’s why I’m here, that’s it. I used to think like that. And now, as an adult, it’s different. I’m not saying I don’t believe in love, but it’s changed. I’ll see those movies, but I don’t believe in that magic anymore. ‘Cause it’s the same thing, my mind has shifted. Because it’s always the same movie. Some free spirit girl at the coffee shop, she brings her own wine from home, right? She has a book on travel, ’cause she’s gonna go to Europe, eventually. She has, like, a baby panda tied to her chair that nobody questions. Then there’s a conservative businessman who only cares about the promotion and he walks in and trips over the panda and falls into her and she’s like, “What the hell?” And he’s like, “I’m sorry.” And then they, like, lock eyes and have this connection. So they go on this free spirit adventure through San Francisco. And she’s saying shit to him, “You need to find your inner animal. You need to, like, roar…” Or some shit. So, later, they get in a fight and instead of doing a good job in the one meeting that he’s been training for his entire life, he decides that he is gonna fuck it up. And he loosens his tie and he goes, “Ladies and gentlemen, I am a lion. And they’re like, “You’re fired ’cause you had a mental breakdown.” Right? Then he gets fired and he has to run to the train station to find her, ’cause she’s so distraught, she’s going to Europe now, even though trains don’t go to fucking Europe. And he has to stop her and he has to give that big speech in every movie. “Listen to me. You were right, okay? Nothing else matters. And you’re right I needed to find my inner animal. I needed to roar and I did, ’cause I’m a lion, but you… you are my kingdom.” Or some shit like that. And I used to love that. I used to be the guy who used to see that and go, “I want that.” But now, all I think about is a year later. Where they’re sharing a studio apartment, because he can’t get a job in the corporate world anymore. Because he’s known as the fucking lion guy. Then you find out that her “free spirit” and wine she brings from home, she’s just really a bipolar alcoholic, who hasn’t had a job in nine years. Then one day, he’s just so depressed, ’cause he’s putting a vest on. Anytime you have to put a vest on for work, you’re not happy, you know, unless you’re a fucking magician! Anyway, point is, he’s putting a vest on and he trips over one of the many sandals she hasn’t finished making for kids in Africa and he just snaps, like, “Goddammit, Destiny! Can you pick your fucking sandals up?” She’s like, “Why don’t you yell a little louder? Maybe, if we had a bigger place…” “Maybe, if I hadn’t roared in the fucking meeting, we would have a bigger goddamn place.” “Really? Blame me, keep blaming me, ’cause you couldn’t be professional.” “Are you fucking drunk right now? Be honest!” “Of course, I am, ’cause I’m like a spiritual…” “Shut the fuck up! No more spiritual shit! And what’s your real name? ‘Cause I know it’s not Destiny, I wanna know your real fucking name. And this panda’s huge now, by the way. It doesn’t fit, Destiny. It’s terrifying to walk. You wouldn’t know that ’cause you have to have your cry nap at 3:00 p.m. every fucking day. And I know you took it from the San Diego Zoo, I know for a fact you fucking did it. You can’t own a panda in San Francisco. And I looked it up. ‘Frizzy haired hippie steals panda, stabs trainer.’ So, here’s the new game we’re gonna play, Destiny. You’re gonna tell me your real fucking name, or I turn you into federal prison for the panda.” And she’s like, “Okay, well, how about this? Panda, get him.” Then the panda eats him and she’s back at the coffee shop. That’s kinda where I am with love. I lied to you. I actually did care about that girl with the magician. I did. Let me explain, okay? It’s not my fault, all right? That’s where I’ll leave it. I said it before, I do wanna be in love. I’m not ready for a relationship. And this is how I learned. I was with this girl. Now this girl, beautiful, smart, sexy, everything you’d want, wildly out of my league. Which is what you want, as a man. As a man, I think you find somebody out of your league and then you trick her. And you pray she doesn’t catch on, that’s the goal. You pray she doesn’t come down like, “I was just thinking about us.” “No, no, no, no, no… Hey, hey, I’m funny, hey.” You know? So it’s about two months in, I’m starting to think maybe I can date this girl, okay? But I don’t think you should force it. I think you have to find it and at the moment, I’m thinking I can do it. So, we’re out to dinner and she says to me, rightfully so, she goes, “So, what do you think about a relationship?” And I wanted to respond, but up here, I just snapped. And I started picturing us together. Like, comfortably together. Like, in on a Saturday night, watching some Reese Witherspoon movie that she picked, that I didn’t wanna watch. Then she’s gonna pause it for 45 minutes to talk to her aunt about her Xanax problem. Then before we can argue, she snaps a photo of me and puts it on Instagram. Like, hashtag date night, hashtag jealous, like, no. Nobody’s jealous and I’m skinny fat now, which I didn’t know was a fucking thing. Then I started thinking, if we’re comfortably together, we’re gonna get married. I started thinking if we get married, we’re gonna have kids. And about the kinda kids I don’t want. I don’t want a creepy daughter. I don’t need that in my life. I don’t need some little girl, pale all year, with bangs. Every time I open the front door, she’s just standing there, like, “Hello, Father.” She dresses like a pilgrim, I don’t know where she got the clothes. I’m like, “Honey, where are you getting the materials to make these?” “She gave ’em to me.” “Who?” ♪ La-la-la-la-la ♪ “Don’t hum and walk away, honey!” I can’t even go to the bathroom at night, she scares the shit out of me in hallways. Just, “Father.” “Jesus! Fuck!” “Christ. Mary Sue, could you go to bed, please, Mary Sue?” I didn’t even name her Mary Sue, the “house” did. Three in the morning, she’s fully dressed, I’m like, “Honey, why are you up right now?” “We’re playing.” “Who?” “Me and her.” “Don’t point that high!” Every weekend, I’m trying to watch a game, she’s just up in her room, humming a song that I’ve never heard and painting, just, ♪ La-la-la-la-la ♪ ♪ La-la-la-la-la ♪ ♪ La-la-la-la-la ♪ ♪ La-la-la-la-la ♪ ♪ La-la-la-la-la ♪ ♪ La-la-la-la-la ♪ ♪ La-la-la-la-la ♪ ♪ La-la-la-la-la ♪ “Father.” I run up to her room, and I’m like, “Honey, you’re scaring the shit out of me. How did you do that?” I see what she’s painting. Just paintings of my face, really well done, like this. Then I thought about this, I don’t want a hot son, either. I don’t want that in my life. I don’t need the Brad Pitt kid, I don’t want him. I don’t want 6’3″, tan all year, even though we live in Connecticut. He’s got an eight-pack, but only eats his Doritos and cookies, which really pisses me off. He has that long hair, when he makes cumming noises, every time he moves it, just… “Could you knock that off, Brock?” I didn’t even name him Brock, the town did, they sent me a letter. He’s always getting up for school at 11:00 a.m., even though school’s at 7:00 a.m. But he gets straight A’s, but he spells “the” with a “b”. I’m like, “Are you sleeping with your teachers?” He’s like, “Relax, Puffy Pops.” He calls me Puffy Pops. So, I’m way past skinny fat, I’m just fat as shit now. He’s on the basketball team, but he’s not even good. He’s on it ’cause he’s cool. After the game, I gotta hold all his shit. But he’s at mid-court, fingering the head cheerleader on an adrenaline kick. “Give me a minute, Puffy Pops.” I’m like, “Jesus Christ, Brock. The whole school is still here.” “It’s all right, I know her body.” “You don’t know bodies, Brock. You shouldn’t know bodies. Denise, I apologize about your daughter.” “I don’t mind.” “That’s fucking weird, Denise. Brock, hurry up, please, come on!” “It’s all right, Puffy Pops. I know her body.” “Shut the fuck up! Stop calling me Puffy Pops, all right? I’m doing P90X to get back to skinny fat, you wanna fucking talk to me… You call me Dad, all right?” “Father.” “Jesus! Fuck! Mary Sue, how did you get here?” “I walked.” “That’s 11 miles. Brock, hurry up! Please, she’s warm and it was snowing out. Honey, move your arms when you walk. Move your arms when you walk, please. Show Daddy your feet, you made your dress too long, it looks like you’re floating. Can you show Daddy your feet, please, and move your arms? You’re scaring parents. Smile! For once in our family’s life, can you do that, please? You’re scaring everybody.” “She’s coming.” “What the fuck does that mean? Brock, hurry up! She’s being weird. Is that a painting, Mary Sue? I don’t want the fucking painting. I’m done with your paintings, okay?” ‘She sets her school on fire, her smile…’ Holy shit. Brock! Hurry up! She’s coming!” He’s like, “I know, Puffy Pops. I did it. I’m the best. I’m the greatest.” Then, Miss Hagadorn runs in like, “How could you do this to us?” I’m like, “I knew you were fucking your teachers.” Then I snapped out of it and I was still at dinner with that girl and she’s like, “Hello? So? What do you think about a relationship?” My point is… I’m single. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. Dude, stoked. She’s gonna love that, dude. Oh, my God. She say anything yet? What’d she say? Yeah. “Can’t make it. LOL.” Well, now I’m fucking soaking wet. Slap. Getting ready to get up outta here, dog. So… If you wanna go ahead and start… Hey… You know what’s funny about love? – No. – Sometimes, it doesn’t go both ways. You’re right. Sometimes, nothing goes your way, like, you won’t go that way towards the exit. I don’t understand why you won’t leave. Show’s over. ♪ She had sandy brown hair ♪ ♪ And a funny smile… ♪ ‘Cause some of her teeth were missing. ♪ …And she was my angel ♪ She could’ve been the one, you know. I save her a seat then she doesn’t come and it’s like… You saved her a few seats, ’cause there was a couple of ’em empty. – There was a bunch of just wind… – Don’t. I know. – The fan base is… – Just a whole bunch of air. I get it. I got it, all right? It’s just like… They could’ve Grouponed your tickets. They did. They did? I shouldn’t have said that. You ever hear of a filter? You need a filter. Like… We’re friends. We’re not friends, we just met today. Adam, help me with the chorus. ♪ Love ♪ ♪ Love, love, love, love ♪ ♪ Feelin’ it ♪ ♪ I’m feelin’ it ♪ – ♪ I’m feelin’ it ♪ – ♪ I’m feelin’ it ♪ ♪ I’m feelin’ it ♪ – ♪ Oh, love – ♪ Feelin’ love ♪ ♪ Love, love I’m feelin’ it ♪ ♪ Love, love… ♪ Yeah, come on. ♪ …I’m feelin’ it ♪ ♪ Love, love, love ♪ He’s pretty good. Oh, my God. – Damn! – So, I’m kinda helping, though, right? – No. – No. Jared’s way better. I would prefer just to hear him. If… Okay. Uh-huh. – Dude, that’s the song. – Stop looking at me, dude. – That’s the song. – That was the highlight of the night. – Whatever, dude. – Hey, man, you know what? You pretty good, Bread Moran’s brother. Did you just call me bread? – That’s your name. – Brent Morin. Bre… What? Brent Morin. You just called me Bread Moran. I thought it was Bread Mo… – Look, that’s what… – Nobody’s named bread. Well, somebody had to be named Bread. – I mean, ’cause it’s a name. – When? When they named bread. It’s like, before bread was made, somebody had to be named Bread, so they would know the name bread. – That’s not a good story. – All right. Let’s do it. ♪ Fee… ♪ I gotta throw up. – Brent? – I gotta throw up. No, you gotta throw up outside. Outside!