Iliza Shlesinger: War Paint (2013) – Full Transcript

2018-09-13T14:49:15+00:00September 13th, 2018|Categories: COMEDY|Tags: , |
  • Iliza Shlesinger: War Paint (2013)

“Last Comic Standing” winner Iliza Shlesinger unleashes her acerbic, stream-of-conscious comedy on an unsuspecting audience in her hometown of Dallas.

Ladies and gentlemen, Iliza Shlesinger!

All right! Dallas, Texas! Thank you. Oh. How are you guys doing? Thank you for coming out, y’all. Fantastic. I am so excited and honored to be shooting my hour special in my hometown of Dallas, Texas. Yes, ma’am. I’m so excited to be here. Not thrilled with getting here. I have to be honest. I fly enough that I feel I have the right to say this. If you work for an airline, I hate you. Okay? I hate you. And I don’t want to hear, “no, my cousin Sheila’s a real sweetheart. She works for southwest.” Fuck your cousin Sheila. All right, your cousin Sheila’s a goddamn bitch. And I’ll tell you something else. The only reason people work for airlines is because the Nazi party is no longer hiring. I don’t have an issue… Thank you.

I don’t have an issue with flying. My issue is with the boarding of the plane. Has anyone else here ever had the misfortune of being stuck in boarding zone four? Like, that’s when you have a seat… You have a ticket ’cause you’re holding it… But you’re so low on the food chain, it pretty much goes, like, first-class, luggage, terrorists, maybe you. And they take such painstaking care to board zones one through three. And if you don’t fly that airline often enough, you are s.O.L. In terms of getting on that plane ’cause they are boarding groups of people that you didn’t even know you could apply to be part of. We’re gonna start boarding flight 556 to Dallas/Fort Worth. We’re gonna start boarding zone one. These are our first-class passengers, our first members, our gold members, our golden shower members. There you go. Thank you, there you go. Right this way. Our golden eagle members, our eagle face members. If you have an eagle face instead of a person face ’cause you lost your face in some sort of horrible holiday Turkey deep fry accident, you didn’t have enough butt fat to get a nose grafted onto your face, so you had to borrow one from an eagle, so now you have a beak, and you like to eat mice, you can get on the plane. Boarding zone two… These are our silver members, our silver star members, our silver surfer members. If anybody likes comic books, you’re a fuckin’ nerd. You can sit in the back of the plane. Silver hair, if you’re old, hurry the fuck up. Silver spoons, if you like Ricky schroder, ’80s TV shows, you were born really wealthy, you can get on the plane. Silver bullet summer… No, ma’am, you cannot bring your coors light up in this, bitch. Boarding zone three. These are our… These are our copper members, our copper star members, our copper topper members. Is anybody using a Duracell-operated device? I don’t give a shit if it’s a pacemaker. You turn that off for takeoff. Copperhead. If you have a copperhead snake as a pet instead of a normal goddamn pet like a dog or a cat, you’re like, “fuck it, I’m gonna get me a snake. “Yeah, fuck you, dad. I’m not going to law school. “I’m gonna go to art school online “and learn how to draw dragons “and manage a hot topic in my spare time. “I love my snake. “I’m bringing her to Thanksgiving. “Her name is Judy. We’re in snake love. “I love her so much. Don’t touch me, mom.” You get on the plane. And boarding zone four, you can go fuck yourself. Now boarding all zones.

I spend a lot of time traveling. Spend a lot of time in hotels. And as a result of it, I watch a lot of TV. And I think the saddest commercial out there has to be the SPCA Sarah McLachlan ad. Seen it? With the fucked up animals? Can I tell you a secret about this commercial? It knows when you’re alone. Do you ever notice it only comes on when you’re by yourself, maybe you’re drunk? You’re vulnerable, right? And what’s crazy is at first, yes, you are sad for the animals. But the longer you watch it, the longer your sadness kind of begins to turn on you, and by the end of it, somehow, you just feel really bad for yourself? You’re sitting there, like, “oh, my God. There’s… that cat doesn’t have a face.” I don’t know. “I’m so sad. “I feel so bad for him. “And I feel so bad for his cat family. And I feel so bad for… Me.” “Oh, God. What am I gonna do? “What should I do? I should… I should… I should get a cat.” So you get a cat. But because he’s from the SPCA, like, let’s be honest, he’s all, like, fucked up and autistic. Just shits everywhere. You’re like, “oh, my God. What did you eat?” Goes through your stuff. He only eats the buttons off your good sweaters. You’re like, “how did you know to go to for the good sweaters? “Why didn’t you go for the crappy sweaters? Why do you have such exquisite taste?” Gotta get rid of him ’cause he’s ruining everything. But what do you do? You can’t kill him because… Because that’s fucking insane, I guess. But you gotta get rid of him. So what do you do? I’m gonna tell you. You put kitty in the car. You drive him to a neighborhood he doesn’t know. You let him out of the car. Don’t worry. The SPCA Will find that cat.

I don’t know if you’ve noticed. They’re in the business of secondhand cattery. They find the cat. They clean him off. They update his resume. He gets a job managing, like, a chipotle. He’s fine, all right? So in honor of that commercial, I have a treat for you guys. This is my cat. This is my dog Blanche, and I adopted her. And sometimes when you adopt an animal, you don’t know their back story. So for Blanche, I made one up. In my house, we pretend that Blanche used to be a dog prostitute… Which makes sense, because as you can tell, she’s a little sad behind the eyes… But she clearly has no problem with you staring at her dog vagina. Make it rain. Shake it for the money. So in honor of that commercial, she and I are now going to do our rendition of it for you. Here we go. In the arms of the angel, far away from here, in this dark, cold hotel room, and the end, dah, dah, dah, dah, dah you were pulled… That’s it. That’s it for Blanche. Let’s get serious. My dog is so cute, I want to hurt her. Do you ever get that way? When something is so cute, it makes you angry. I just want to rip its nose and… You ever get that way when something is so cute, you don’t know if you can trust yourself around it? I used to get that way with my Nana. She’s, like, this tall, and you ever hug your grandparent, and you’re, like, “oh, my God, I just wanna push you down the stairs.” You ever feel that way? You ever feel the urge, just, “what if I just…” “Just feel like…” Hypothetically. Sometimes, I get that way around garbage disposals. You ever just put your hand in just to feel the… feel the fear? You reach the other hand over. You don’t touch the switch, but you hover around it? You’re like, “what if I just…” “No!” I don’t do that either. It was just a joke. Sometimes you get that way with cute things, like babies. Sometimes babies are so cute. Sometimes babies are not so cute. But sometimes babies… so cute, you know, fat, little, baby cheek. You just want to rip his cheek off. But you can’t ’cause you won’t be allowed around the baby anymore. That’s for goddamn sure.

There was another version of that commercial. What happened was they aired that commercial. And it was such a hit, so many people were adopting pets, so many people were donating money, so many people were going on antidepressants. And they were like, “let’s do another one.” So they tried to recreate the magic of that one. So in this commercial, they play another Sarah McLachlan song, okay? I don’t know the song, but it’s some lesbian chant. That’s happening. And they zoom in on these pictures of these jacked up animals. And at the bottom of the screen, they put a caption of what the animal is thinking? Now, where they got that information, I don’t know. They show a dog, and he’s all no teeth. He’s just awful-looking, like, “nah!” “Where’s my family?” “I don’t know!” They show another dog, and he’s all muddy and gnarly. He’s just, “nah!” “I hope they come back for me.” “Nah! “Dad, you said you was going for cigarettes. “Why? It’s me, spot.” And then, they showed a cat. And this cat was, like, 45 pounds. It… it had one eye. And it turned… do you know him? And it turned around… He turned around in slow motion, and it wasn’t a camera trick. He’s just, like, a 45-pound cat, I guess. He doesn’t have, like, a meeting to rush to. So he’s not… “I’m sorry for whatever I did wrong.” No, that’s where I stopped buying that commercial. There’s no way a cat has remorse. You ever met a cat? There’s no way he’s apologetic. Whatever that cat did to land him in cat jail, he’s not sorry he did it. He’s sorry he got caught. There’s a difference. That cat’s as hard as they come. He doesn’t give a shit. He’s sitting there in his little cat cell. He’s got “meow mix for life” tattooed on his little belly. He’s got a little rat that he’s made his bitch. It’s carving a shiv out of cheese in the corner. He’s got one sharpened cat claw. He’s just running it against the bars, like, “brr. Brr.” Oh, yeah, he’s got one eye. I forgot. “Brr. Brr.” He’s like, “hear me?” “I don’t give a fuck.” “You think I care? “Oh, hell, yeah, I scratched up your curtains. And I’d do it again. Fuck you.” This is a cat paw. That commercial is sad.

The commercial that makes me feel the worst about myself, I would have to say, would be the P90X commercials. That commercial always comes on when I’m eating… Which is the worst time for any fitness commercial comes on ’cause it knows when you’re sitting there being a little fatty, eatin’ Graham crackers with your shirt off, watching “Law & Order: SVU.” It knows. And it comes on, and it gets you, you’re just sittin’ there. You’re like, “I’ll never find love. I don’t know. I don’t…” “Do you want to get in shape?” You’re like… And by the way, it’s not asking you if you want to get in regular-person shape. It’s not talking to normal people. It’s talking to, like, Navy seals. It’s talking to crazy people. It’s not asking you if you want to look mediocre when you go to the pool this summer, uh-uh. It’s just for crazy… It’s saying, “hey, faggot, do you want to get in such fucking good shape “so fucking quickly that your arms “and your… And your chest and your back “get too big to fit through normal doorways, “so every time you come through, you smash into the plaster, “and you’re costing your mother thousands of dollars “in drywall damage? “Is that what you want? “Do you want your friends and family to fear you “because you drink horse testosterone “and creatine shakes, and they make you sleep outside? “Is that what you fuckin’ want? “Do you want to get so huge so quickly, “so unnaturally, that all your clothes “shrink on you, and they fit like baby clothes “’cause you’re like the hulk mid-transformation, “and you can’t afford to buy new clothes ’cause you spent all your money on these fucking P90X DVDs?” My question is why? Why would the average guy want to get that jacked that fast? Why? So you can, what, be the strongest manager at the Verizon store? What are you doing with that muscle? You work in sales. You’re not guarding Sparta. It’s fine. “This is smart phone.” I think P90X has a subliminal message that a lot of us are missing ’cause I don’t think they’re talking to regular people. I think the commercial needs to be honest and come clean and say what their product is really meant for. The commercial should sound like this. “Hey, P90X guy here. What’s up? “So did you, like, recently commit a crime, “and you’ve been sentenced to prison, and you have to report there in 90 days, so…” “You figure in the interim, “you’ll just get as huge as possible “for fear of the safety of your butthole? P90X.” Yeah. It’s a prison workout. They’re like, “you can do it from the comfort of your own living room.” That’s ’cause your living room and a jail cell are roughly the same square footage. Do the math. Think about it. “No equipment. No excuses.” No shit there’s no equipment. You’ll get raped with equipment in prison. You can’t have it there. “We here at P90X want you to get creative “with your workout. Fuck your antiques, bro. “Your girlfriend’s gonna break up with you “when you go to jail anyway. “May as well use shit around your house. “Take your dining room table. Cut off the back legs. “Put it at an angle. “Now, you have a bench for incline presses. “P90x. “Go ahead. Grab your old Kenwood speakers. “That’s right. Take ’em off the front lawn. “Use those for weight. “You can take water bottles. Dump that shit out. “Fill ’em up with sand. “Use those for bicep curls “’cause you’re too cheap to buy a shake weight. “You’re gonna get enough of this in prison. P90x.” The problem with P90X is that it works. Like, yes, it will change your body, but only from the neck down. They don’t tell you in the commercial your face stays exactly the same as it was. “Do you want to have the body of a 20-year-old adonis, “but go ahead and keep the face “of a balding, middle-aged accountant? “P90X, disappoint your wife from the chin up on a nightly basis.” These guys at P90X, you want to look hot, just get in shape.

I think women in our country have too many options for weight loss to the point of paralysis. There’s so many options. You go on TV, the Internet, women’s magazines. There’s so many, you can’t even make a choice. I was reading a women’s magazine the other day ’cause I wanted to punish myself and just feel awful, and they had all these diet tips. Diet tips for ladies. I saw this one in “cosmo.” They suggested that women, if you’re on a diet, “next time you’re on a diet and you’re hungry, don’t ruin the day…” ’cause your whole day is ruined if you eat a doughnut, by the way. You have to kill yourself immediately. “Don’t ruin the day by grabbing a fried snack. Instead, just grab a handful of almonds.” Just go out… just go and grab a handful of almonds. You ever do this? When you’re hungry, you get a handful of… you don’t do that? You don’t go up to the nearest tree and just giraffe yourself like… “Cindy, I’ll be right there.” Handful of almonds. “Cosmo” says get a handful of almonds. Just go ahead, get a handful of almonds, and get a hand… Why don’t you go fuck yourself with a handful of almonds, “cosmo”? See how full you get off that. I’m a grown woman, not a sugar squirrel. Almonds. Juicing. That’s a big thing. “Why don’t you just juice it? Do you want to just juice? “We should do juices and smoothies. You wanna make a smoothie?” You pronounce smoothie like this ’cause you only need this much of your mouth open to drink it. Smoothie. They want women to do this. Take all your food, juice it down. Go get your carrots. Get your kale. Don’t forget the kale. Get your kale. Get the apples. Put it in the juicer. Go ahead and juice the apple and the celery. Put your hand in the juicer. Juice your hand down. Juice your hand right down to the nub. Make sure you juice all of it. You’ll lose 2 ounces. Drink your hand, there’s lots of nutrients in your hand. “Cosmo” never said to juice your hand. I’m just gonna put that out there. Make a smoothie. Do you have time in the morning to make a smoothie? You have time for this? No? Shocking. You don’t have time in the morning to go out to your own personal botanical garden and cut down a brontosaurus brunch worth of broccoli and asparagus, juice it down to an ounce, so you can shit green for a week? You don’t have time?

I love being a stand-up comedian. It’s probably the best job ever. Uh, if I could have any job… If I could have any job, I would be a cat. But that is not something I’m supposed to talk about in public. If I could have any job besides this, I know this sounds weird, but I would be a pharmacist because I would be… Like, I would add something cool to it. I would be, like, a different kind of pharmacist, okay? So I would do it differently, okay? So… so I would look like a pharmacist. I would wear the white coat, ’cause without the white coat, you’re just a drug dealer. I’d wear the white coat, but under it, I would go to, like, a renaissance fair. We have renaissance fairs here? All: Yeah. Yes! Of course we do. Every state’s got white trash. Of course we do. So I’d go to a renaissance fair. And I would go to, like, the witch doctor’s tent. And I would get one of those, like, medieval witch woman belts that has, like, some leather. And it’s got bells and raccoon pelts and a jug for your ale, whatever. And it’d have, like, a jar of pigeon whisperers. I’d have all these things, all the accoutrement of a creepy witch on my belt. And I’d put it under the coat so that when I walked, the coat would flare open, and you’d get glimpses of my medieval trickery under it. Just… And you’d be in line at the pharmacy. And you’d be like, “what’s up with that one pharmacist? “Is she into the dark arts? “Is she a sorceress? Magic with a ‘k’? Does she play “skyrim” alone? What is that?” And I wouldn’t come up to the counter. Instead… instead of a bell that you ring, I would get… I would get a raven. I would stuff a raven. And I would give it a beard. I’d glue on the beard. I would spend my time gluing the beard on, and it would have a beard, and I would sit him on the perch, so when you came up to the counter, you’d have to pull the beard. And then the raven will go… That’s my cue to appear. And then I’d… pfft. Yes? Secretly, I was waiting under the counter to hear the raven. And then… pfft. Yes? I was right there. There’s no magic. I’m right there. Yes, my child? I call you my child ’cause that’s what creepy people do. Yes? And you’d hand me your prescription. And I’d say, “okay, one moment.” And I’d have a hump. Oh, yeah, I have a hump. You gotta have a hump. If you’re gonna be making medicine, you gotta have a hump ’cause the hump says that you’re serious. A hump is your calling card. A hump says, “I’m not out partying. “I’m not out getting drunk. “I’m downstairs in the basement “studying alchemy and… And witchery. “And I’m learning how to turn “newt thoughts into rat eyeballs. “I’m doing things like that. “I’m learning the proper use for an erlenmeyer flask. I’m down there doing these things, okay?” So I have the hump, and then… And then, I’d take your… I’d take your prescription. And… one moment. I have a limp too… ‘Cause the limp comes with the hump, standard. And then I would set to work making your medicine. So I’d be back here, and I would have my back to you. And I’d… I’d have all these sound effects on, like, a keyboard ready, so you would be standing there. And you’d hear like… “Eh, one moment.” And I would also have a closed-circuit TV right here, so I could watch everything in the pharmacy, okay? So you would go to, like, touch something, and I would see you on the TV. And I would just say this, “I wouldn’t touch that if I were you.” But I’m just watching you. And I have… And, like, an hour later, I’d emerge with your medicine in the orange bottle. Like, I didn’t make your shit. I had it ready to go. I was just wasting your time… ‘Cause a hump suggests that I’m making it, so I want you to follow that fantasy. I didn’t… i don’t know how to make medicine out of herbs. I’m not Chinese. So I have it. And I’d come up to the counter. And I’d say… And I’d set it down. And I’d say, “would you like a consultation?” And you’d say, “sure.” And I’d say, “okay.” And I’d hold up your pill to the light. I shouldn’t touch your medicine, but I’m going to. I’d hold it up, and I’d say, “take one!” One, one. And I’d have all the other pharmacists flip the lights on and off to make it… And they’d put lighters up to the sprinklers. And we’d get one of the fog machines left over from our Halloween sale. And pfft, and it would fill the room. And we’d have people wafting it with car mats just to make it go in some sort of circle. “Take one on the seventh solstice of the third vernal equinox.” It’s two different times a year, but it’s just a bit. “Take one in the presence… “presence of a righteous man “with the blood of a virgin. “Also with crackers, so you don’t upset your tummy.” I give it to you, and as you are going to leave, you didn’t even say anything. I’d say, “wait!”

I grab you… Grab you with a grabbing hand. What’s a grabbing hand? I’m gonna tell you. You can’t… If you’re gonna grab someone and you want to instill fear in their hearts, you can’t grab with a well-manicured hand with, like, a pretty ring. No one’s gonna be afraid. If I grab you with this hand, you’d be like, “what? That sounds awesome.” It’s got to be creepy, okay? Someone grabs you out of a grave. What does it look like? It’s sinewy. It’s got dirty nails. It’s all “Thriller”-looking. Just nah! Gonna grab him. How do you make a grabbing hand? I’m going to tell you. You put your hand outside your car for two hours a day, so it tans quicker than the rest of you. You take special liver pills that prevent your liver from functioning on this side. So you start to get liver spots all over, okay? Now, you gotta make your fingers creepy. So maybe… so this finger… You’ve got, like, a coke nail on that finger. This one’s got, like… like, a raccoon eyeball for a ring. Maybe this… You don’t need this finger. You cut this one off totally ’cause you lost it… You lost it in the hobbit bore. I don’t care. And then you get a bracelet made of, like, whore gypsy Kardashian hair. You wrap your hand in it. And just as you’re… I pull out my grabbing hand. I have it sheathed. It’s sheathed in a sheath. And, uh… Just as you were leaving, I’d go, “wait!” You’d be, like, “what?” And I’d say, “there’s one more thing.” And I’d pull out a hand of magic dust, which is just sand from the beach aisle in the pharmacy. I’d pull… I’d pull out a hand of dust. And I would just go… “Do you have a cvs card?” I love walking around pharmacies. I love doing that. I can’t… i can’t go to a pharmacy and not spend money. One of the products that creeps me out… They have a product at every pharmacy called “k-y intense.” You seen the commercials for this thing? The commercial for… First of all, the commercial for k-y intense is super offensive. And we will talk about that. In the c… first of all, if you’ve ever used k-y intense, you know that it’s intense because it burns. I will volunteer that. I accidentally used it one time thinking, like, “this is gonna be magical.” And it burned. And I promise you girls don’t want that. In my life, I’ve never been, like, “man, that sex was awesome. “But you know what I wanted to feel, like, right after? Fire.” Of course, they don’t bill it as a burning sensation on TV. They call it “a tingling sensation.” And they try to, like, talk to the girls. They’re like, “ladies, do you want “more pleasure out of your three minutes? Do you want that? Okay.” “Well, k-y intense is great “’cause it’s a tingling sensation for her “and he gets to use his penis. So everybody wins.” But even if it… even if it was a tingling sensation, we live in a society preconditioned to not want tingling. We don’t like tingling. We know that tingling, it means a bad thing is happening. “Hey, everyone, grandma says her arm is tingling.” “Oh, she must be having an orgasm.” “You don’t have to rush her to the hospital. “She’s laying on the ground “with her eyes rolled back in her head. She’s clearly enjoying herself.” Tingling. It’s horrible. You ever hit your funny bone and been, like… “Ahh.” The commercial is awful because it’s two British people. And they’re sitting there having breakfast. And they’re discussing all the sex that they had the night before… ‘Cause they used the k-y intense. But because the brits are very tacit about sexual things, they’re not coming right out and discussing it. They’re speaking in code. And at the bottom of the screen are the subtitles in American so we can understand what they’re saying. So they’re sitting there, and they’re eating. They’re having their… porridge. They’re eating their curds and whey. I don’t care what the brits eat. We won the war, so there. Right? So they’re sitting there. And they’re eating it. And it’s just very quiet. And they’re just… Teeth out to here. And the girl looks at the guy. “Wonderful dessert last night, sire.” She didn’t say “sire.” They don’t talk like that anymore. So she talks, and there’s subtitles. “Wonderful dessert last night.” “Hey! What’d you put on my puss, nigga?” And then the guy… Responds in kind. He’s like, “oh, yes, ’twas… “’twas a bit of a new recipe. Hoped you liked it.” “Put some of that k-y shit on my dick, bitch. How you like me now?” And then, the girl is, like, “oh, yes. ‘Twas quite invigorating. Didn’t expect that one.” “You fucking kidding me with that shit? “What’d you put? Ants on your dick? Is this a joke?” “You want to fucking die, motherfucker? “You want to end up on snap? I’ll fucking kill you. This fuckin’ hurt.” Then the guy, like, “oh, yes, “tried a spin on an old recipe. Tried a dash of nutmeg.” And there were no subtitles for that because I think they fucking do use nutmeg. And that’s what makes it burn so much. I know a lot about sex and dating. I know a lot about dating because I watch a lot of dates. That sounds creepy. I host a dating show. So I’ve learned a lot about men and women and their interactions. And one important thing that I’ve learned is that when you like someone and you want to impress them, what do you do? You lie. You have to, because if people knew how weird you were in your off time, no one would have you. A guy says to you, “what do you like to do for fun?” Girls, you can’t be honest. You can’t be honest about that shit. You can’t be honest about what you were doing 10 minutes before you came to the door. You have to lie. “What do you like to do for fun?” You can’t tell him. You can’t be, like, “I really enjoy “choreographing naked cheerleading routines “to old Britney Spears cds. “And then, I Google a bunch of hentai porn, “masturbate, don’t wash my hands, “Facebook stalk my ex-boyfriend and his ex-girlfriends, “jot down their place of employment for future reference. “And then, I go bake some cookies. “And then, I mouth-kiss my dog and promise her that one day she’ll be my wife.” You can’t say that. Nine times out of ten, a guy asks a girl, “what do you like to do for fun?” The girl’s answer will be, “hiking.” “I love hiking. I do. I do… don’t I? I do. I love hiking.” “I do, hiking’s…” “I love hiking.” “I do. I love it. I love hiking.” “No, you don’t. Stop lying. “You don’t like… really, Stacy? You like hiking? “Where are your trail spikes? Where’s your walking stick? Where’s your lesbian Mountain partner?” You don’t like hiking. You don’t even know what hiking is. Most modern girls don’t really know what hiking is, okay? To the average girl, hiking is you wake up whenever you want, you put on lululemon yoga pants ’cause they make your butt look unreasonably good as they should for 800 fucking dollars. And you go for a walk in the park with your best friend and complain about how hung over you are. That’s hiking. Yeah. I do it too. Promise you this, girls. It’s not a sport if you can drink a Starbucks and have a pita while you’re doing it. “Do you want a piece of pita?” “I’m hiking.” But there’s a method to our madness. There’s a reason women say “hiking.” We say hiking because we think guys like hiking. That’s why we’re doing it. Be outside where the bugs are? No! We think you like that. We’re taught to believe that men are outdoorsy, and rugged, and they like nature. As far as we’re concerned, you’re the closest thing we know to a bear. So we say hiking, hoping to have something in common with you. We honestly say “hiking” hoping that you’ll be, like, “you like hiking? I like hiking. Marry me.” It’s the easiest thing you can say that you do. It’s one of the only outdoor activities that you can lie and say that you do it having never done it before, and then do it and pull it off because it’s walking. You can’t pull that off, you shouldn’t be mating with anyone. You ca… most outdoor activities require a decent amount of skill. For example, you can’t say you like rock climbing if you’ve never been rock climbing. I mean, you can, but I promise you this. You’re gonna go. You’re gonna slip. You’re gonna get your hand caught in a rock. 127 hours later… Stump’s not getting you a second date. I promise you that.

I don’t know if girls wanna hear this, but the truth is 90% of the activities that women engage in revolve around getting a guy’s attention, okay? And it’s just the way we’re built biologically. This is just something we do. We love to get your attention. It’s part of the sport of it, all right? You think I go to a sports bar because I like warm beer and sticky barstools? No. I go ’cause there’s guys there. You think I do a pub crawl every year ’cause I like it when my liver hurts? No! I go ’cause there’s guys there. We don’t wear heels for our circulation. We do it to prop up our butt so you’ll look at me and want to mate with me. That’s why we do it. This isn’t a fucking game, all right? This isn’t a push-up bra. It’s body armor. And this ain’t makeup, sweetheart. It’s war paint. Let’s make a baby. Girls know exactly what they’re doing. We know exactly what you like, what you don’t like. We do our research when we like a guy. And by research, I mean we Facebook stalk you. We do it. I know your favorite foods. I know where you went on vacation. I know that your favorite team is the cowboys. I know all about that. I’m totally into you. That’s right. They say men are hunters and women are gatherers. Well, kind of. Women are gatherers. We like to gather information about you. And then we hunt you. You think when I bring you home to meet mom on Christmas it’s ’cause I want her to meet you? No, it’s so I can be, like, “mom, look what I caught.” We have to, because guys are kind of passive when it comes to meeting women. Sure, they go out. But girls make a sport of it. My guy friends don’t care. If they had their way, they’d spend every Saturday night with each other… Which is weird… Watching “1000 ways to die,” eating sandwiches, ragging on their one friend that has a huge nut sack for no reason. Like, that’s what they would do. Going out’s very important. You got a real job, your weekend is very important to you, because a weekend represents 48 hours that you have to fuck up the life that you worked so hard for all week. That’s what your weekend is. If you’re a real professional, your weekend starts Thursday at, like, 5:00 P.M. Right? You go to happy hour. Happy hour trickles into, like, nighttime. You’re drinking a little bit ’cause you can go to work a little hung over, right? No one’s doing real work on Friday. Nobody’s working on a Friday. Nobody’s working on a Friday ’cause it’s what? Shabbat. No. Because it’s Friday and nobody cares. You ever been at work, your boss is never gonna be, like, “let’s get in those reports and start brainstorming.” You’re, like, “okay, I’ll be there.” “Oh, you were serious? Okay, little hand job. I’ll be at my desk. That’s fine.”

Girls take going out very seriously ’cause that’s our hunting grounds. “Going out. Let’s do it.” “Do you want to do, like, a girls’ night? Do you wanna do that?” Every weekend, I get calls from my girlfriends. “Do you want to do, like, just girls? “Do you want to do, like, a fun girls’ night? Iliza, I’m talking to you. Iliza.” “Do you want to do that? “Do you wanna do, “like, a girls’… We’ll just do… “oh, we’ll all wear, like, fun shoes. “And we’ll all get, like, apis. And then, we’ll do, like, a fun girls’ night.” “Do you wanna do that? “I wanna do a girls’ night. I made an evite for the four of us.” “You didn’t answer.” “‘Cause I’m standing right here.” “You’re such a bitch.” “Let’s do a girls’ night. Let’s do just girls. “No boys. Let’s just all wear wedges and no boys.” “Let’s not do boys, just girls. Just the girls.” I’m like, “why? We hate each other.” Girls hate each other. Esp… she hates you, especially during the day. But when the moon comes up and there’s white wine involved, “oh, my God. Stacy, you look amazing. I fucking love you.” And you notice the drunker you get, the more Spanish you start speaking? “Oh, my God. Mamacita, muy caliente. Whoo!” “Fucking love you, chica.” But the more love you give to one girlfriend, the more love you must taketh away from another girlfriend. It’s how we keep balance in the girl universe. “I love you. Can I just tell you?” “I love you, I do. “But you know who I hate? “Becky. “She’s a bitch.” “No, I hate her even though she drove me here and I’m wearing her top.” “Can I just tell you that? “Like, for real, like, I hate her. “Will you not tell her? Do you promise? “Do you… do you prom… You won’t tell her? “Do you pinky swear? “Do you pinky s… Do you pinky swear? “Even though I’m a grown fucking woman “that pays taxes and votes, do you wanna pinky swear?” “This is ironclad. Do you pinky swear? “Okay, come here. No, here, take my hand. “I wanna talk to you. Come here. “No, like, earlier, like… Here, come here, come here. “Like, earlier, she was just, like, being, like, a bitch. “And I was, like, ‘what’s your problem? I don’t even understand.'” “now, she’s like, ‘why are you being, like, so rude? ‘And, like… what, are you, like, bipolar or, like, manic? ‘Like I just freely use these psychological terms “cause I don’t know what I’m talking about.’ “and she was, like, being, like… wait, wait. “Is she looking? “Did she hear me talking about her? “Is she… pretend like we’re not talking about her. “Is she gone? “No, but, like, that’s the thing. “Like, earlier, she was just, like, being, “like, passive-aggressive and, like, crazy. “And, like…” “And I was just, like…” “She was just being, like, a freak. “And she was just, like, disrespecting me. “And, like… no, no, like, when you do it, it’s fine.” “Right? Because we get each other ’cause we’re both pisces.” Which means nothing. “Do you wanna do that? “Do you wanna do a girls night? “Fuck yeah. Why don’t you come over? “‘Us weekly’, Jennifer Aniston, hang out, “‘Love actually” watch a movie, braid our hair, stiff as a board, “light as a feather, have some candy, “have some cake, have some cookies, “have some box wine, have some fucking Martinis, “and a low-fat pizza. Have a goddamn muffin, “have a piece of cake, have a piece of brownie, ‘fifty shades of grey.'” “Sounds great, Cindy. “Can’t wait to be shit-faced on your couch “at 2:00 A.M. with no boy to make out with. “You got ‘grey’s anatomy’ on DVD? Awesome. “Pop it in. Let’s lez out. Where’s your brother?” Yeah. Let’s make that happen. Tired of feeling like a sexual deviant ’cause I just enjoy a little bit of mouth-kissing with my red wine, okay? Look, that’s what most girls want, by the way. We just wanna make out, just a little bit. Right at the beginning when you first meet, they want to make out. That’s what most girls want. “I wanna do some fun shoes, red wine, make out, weiner touch, go to bed.” That’s what we want… When you first meet someone. Look, let’s not get crazy, right? Just make out, and… And then that’s it. Just real quick, in that order. You don’t want to have drunk sex. That’s a whole mess. Drunk sex, there’s emotions, ankle sprains, paper work. There’s, like, a whole thing involved.

Girls like making out. It’s a sentiment echoed by almost any girl in any bar on any night. You pick any bar in the country. You find a girl, she’s gonna be drunk, face on sideways, just, like… “I just want to make out with a boy. “I just want to make out with a boy. “I do, I just want to make out with some boy. That’s all I want.” “I do. I’m pretty, right?” “I just want…” “Saved it.” That’s what you hear. You rarely hear a girl talk about having sex with a stranger. I understand it happens. I understand that there’s one-night stands. But rarely does a girl go out with the intention of having sex with a stranger. Rarely do you hear a girl, like, “I just want to, like, go out, and, like, party, “and, like, meet some dude, and go home with him, “and then have sex with him, and then wake up, “and realize I never got his name. “But he’s already gone to the gym. “So I can’t ask him. “So I go over to his coffee table, “and I find a phone bill with his name on it. “And I put it in my pocket, and I go home with the phone bill.” “And I get home to my computer, and I take it out. “I’m like, ‘Brian Williamson. That’s a generic fucking name.’ “So I look up all 90,000 Brian Williamsons on Facebook “until I find the one that resembles him. “And then, I send him a message. “But I have to use bait “’cause I have to make sure he’ll write me back. “So I’m like, ‘I think I’m pregnant.’ “He writes back. ‘J/k, mother fucker.’ ‘but I got you now.’ “Now, we begin the dance of seduction. “Now, I say things, like, ‘I just wanna be friends. ‘You were super fun to have sex with. ‘Let’s just be friends and have sex. ‘Fuck a relationship and oxytocin. ‘I never wanna have a family. Let’s just do what you wanna do.’ he’s into it. So I get your number, right? You hold onto the number until you have an occasion. And then, it’s like St. Patrick’s day. You send out a mass text, but it’s just to one person. You ever do that? Me neither. It was just a joke. It’s the best idea. You find one guy that you like. And you send out a text that’s, like, “hey, everyone.” Make sure you write “everyone” in caps so it’s clear that it’s for, like, a bunch of people. “Hey, everyone, I-o-l.” “Whatever, smiley face, I’m gonna have a party “at Kelly’s bar at 9:00 P.M. Everybody should come, you guys.” Triple “z” so he knows there’s a lot of people in this text. “Okay, see you later.” And then you bring your one friend that has no issue with you ditching her. You go to the bar, and you post up, and you wait until he gets there. He shows up. You’re like, “I guess everybody passed out. It’s just us standing.” And then, you make out. And he’s, like, “you seem like a cool chick.” You’re, like, “I’m the coolest chick. I wanna fucking do it.” And he’s, like, “let’s go out tomorrow night.” You’re like, “yeah, a second date. “It only took me six fucking months. Yeah.” So now, you’re excited ’cause you have a second date.

And girls love getting ready for dates. Even though it makes us a little nauseous and all we wanna do is stay home and eat, we love second dates ’cause you got to get ready for your second date. So what do you do? You do your hair, you do your makeup, you shave your big toe. You come to play, right? Gotta make sure your underwear’s cute. Don’t wanna go to Victoria’s secret ’cause that’s a bit too much of a commitment. So where do you go for a cheap bra that’s really cute? Target. They don’t fit, and you’re like, “fuck it. “For $12.50, I’ll wear a bra “made of ceiling insulation and barbed wire. That’s fine.” “It doesn’t fit this boob, “and it makes this nipple fall asleep. But for 12 bucks, I’m good.” You get all excited. You put on makeup. You put on the makeup that you’re okay with sleeping in. All girls have to make this decision ’cause you know you’re not gonna be washing your face because girls are so fucked up that we think, “I’d rather fall asleep, get night zits, “and wake up looking like a melted clown than ever wash my face and show him that I’m a human being.” So you go there. You’re all excited. You get to his house. You guys start drinking. You get so fucking wasted in the first two hours that you have sex for three minutes before he goes completely soft. And the next thing you know, you wake up in your underwear on his couch. You look over, he’s eating noodles, watching Harry Potter. Is this relatable to anyone else?

Popular misconception about girls is that we get drunk and we wanna have sex. Here’s the truth. We do. Have a good night. No. We do for, like, the first hour of being drunk, okay? Let’s talk about the first hour of being drunk mostly because many of you are in that hour right now. I call it “the witching hour.” The first hour of being drunk is the best hour of the night because your buzz is fresh. You’re happy. You don’t feel fat. You haven’t cried yet. You’re still somewhat of the self you were when you were sober. You still could ostensibly operate heavy machinery if an emergency were to arise, okay? You’re in that buzz. You’re feeling awesome. Your synapses haven’t been soaked in alcohol. So you’re still alert. You’re feeling awesome. You walk into that bar like you own it. You fucking kick that door open even though it’s a pull-in door. You don’t care. You’re just… Walk in. “Let’s do shots, bitches.” You and your awful friends line up at the bar. Like, “let’s do shots.” You’re doing shots you have no business doing. “Let’s get Jagermeister, Goldschlager, Rumple Minze, Aftershock. Do you have anything else that tastes like Christmas and vomit?” You start doing them. You’re like, “fuck it. “It’s my bachelorette, 21st birthday, “wedding extravaganza, donkey punch. “I don’t know what this is… Do it.” Shot, shot. “What is that, hand soap? Bubbles. I don’t care. Awesome.” Now, you’re on the dance floor. You’re like, “this is so good.” And you’re feeling so good, right? You’re dancing. You’re all excited ’cause your buzz has just hit you. You’re like, “this is great. I fucking love it.” You’re ambitious about life. You ever plan a workout when you’re drunk? When you’re drunk, you’re, like, “this is when I get in shape. “This is where it starts. Going to start tomorrow.” You try to drag your friends into it. You’re like, “Stacy! Sta… Stacy.” “Do you wanna work out? You dance like an asshole, by the way. I don’t know who dances like this. “Do you wanna work out, like, tomorrow? “Do you wanna do that? “I’m gonna get up early and work out. “Do you wanna go with me? “Do you want to go at, like, 6:00? It’s 5:00 now.” “Do you wanna take a spin class?” “Do you wanna spin? “Do you wanna…” “Do you want… You don’t wanna spin? “You don’t wanna go spinning? “You don’t wanna sit on a stationary bike “and tolerate getting pounded in the rectum for an hour “while some twinked-out spandex queen yells at you “over a shitty remix of U2’s ‘It’s a Beautiful Day’ in total darkness?” “You don’t wanna do that?” So you’re feeling good and you’re dancing. You’re like, “I feel so thin. “I’ve never been hotter in my life. I feel so good.” And then, it hits you. You’re like, “oh, my God. I feel so good right now. I feel so awesome and happy. I wish I could feel this way all the time. I wish I could feel this buzz and this happy all the time.” And that’s when you realize that’s how an alcoholic thinks. But you’re, like, “screw it. I’m gonna give it a shot. I’m gonna see just how far I can push being drunk.” So you decide to do shots. And you decide, “these shots aren’t gonna get me ’cause tonight’s the night I outsmart the liquor.” “Not gonna happen tonight ’cause I’m gonna drink water. Going to drink a glass of water with each shot.” And this is your brilliant idea. No one in the thousands of years of people imbibing alcohol has ever thought of this. This is your night, Einstein. It’s your big plan. “I’m gonna do a shot and then have a glass of water, “and then a shot, and then a glass of water. “You can’t buy me a shot now, but thank you. I’m just having water.” “I’m just having…” “I’m just drinking water, but thank you.”

Shot and water, but what you don’t realize is that five shots in an hour is still five fucking shots in an hour. You went and drank all that water like a crazy camel. Yeah, good job. Now, you’re bloated. And you have to pee. Way to be. ‘Cause when a girl’s gotta pee, everything has to come to a halt. Every girl’s gotta go with her. “I have to pee. Do you have to pee?” “I can’t go alone. No. “Will you stop what you’re doing and come with me? “I have to pee. Do you have to pee? “I have to pee. I have to go pee.” Can’t go in the bathroom alone. You might not come back. ‘Cause no girl’s ever been to the bathroom alone and survived. It’s true. The last woman that attempted it, it was 1937… And her name was Amelia Earhart. It’s a big event. “I have to pee. Come on. Let’s go. “Every girl, let’s go, you girls. “Come on. I have to pee, come on. “Take my hand. Let’s make a chain of whores. Everyone holds hands.” As they walk into the bathroom. For me, when I’m walking through a crowded bar, the amount of aggression I will display toward the other bar patrons is in direct correlation with how many boys I’ve gotten to flirt with. Meaning if I haven’t gotten to talk to any cute guys, mama’s gonna be a little aggressive in her walk to the bathroom, okay? Guys, when they get drunk, sometimes punch walls. I like to mule kick other girls in the shin. It’s totally fine. Every girl’s done this. And you know why we do it? ‘Cause we can get away with it. You can knock into a girl and then be, like, “oops. I didn’t mean that.” Our smile is our jedi mind trick. Just, “these are not the droids you’re looking for.” You ever do that? You ever just check a girl into the boards ’cause you can? You ever just been walking, and just been, like… “I love your shoes. Oops.” Takes you forever, but you finally get through that jungle of people. You get to the bathroom.

For those of you that haven’t been in a women’s restroom late night, a women’s restroom late night looks like a scene out of Apocalypse Now. There’s gunfire, explosions, blood everywhere, children, a lot of Vietnamese men, which I never quite understood, like, why they’d be there. You’re with your buddies just trying to get through everything. You go pee. You get to the sink. And then, your night comes to a screeching halt ’cause for the first time in, like, four hours, you get a look at yourself in the mirror. And you see the swamp witch that you’ve become. Ten minutes ago, you thought you looked like Heidi Klum. It turns out you look like Seal. It hits you like a ton of bricks out of nowhere. And you don’t know it’s coming. You’re sitting there talking to your friends. You’re like, “this is awesome. – ” I’m gonna be young forever. – This is…” “No! What? What is this? I was once a great beauty.” “No. What is this?” You go to touch it. It disappears. You’re, like… “Is it a hologram? What is that? I look weird.” One eyeball has migrated here. You look down. You’re just leaking vodka.

Now, you don’t wanna hook up with anyone. Now, all you wanna do is eat. I’m a red-blooded American girl. Absolutely, when I get drunk, I would rather eat than hook up with you. I’m sorry. I don’t know. Give you a hand job or go get fries? Both are salty. One will give me carpal tunnel. I’ll go with the fries. Every time. A popular misconception about girls is that we don’t like to eat. Girls love to eat. Yeah. We just don’t like to eat in front of a guy that we like. That’s the difference. When you first meet a guy that you like, you can’t eat the way you want to on a date. You can’t. You can’t have that fourth plate of ribs on a date… I found out. Going on a date, society dictates that guys can do what they want and women have to be dainty. So he’s gonna get fries, a burger, half a gazelle, whatever he wants to eat. Girls, you get the menu, what are you ordering? – All: Salad. – Salad. Like hot little robots. Salad. And it’s an excruciating experience ’cause you’re trying to just look pretty the whole time. He’s sitting there enjoying his burger. You’re eating your lettuce. You’re just sitting there going, “ugh.” You’ve abandoned the utensils. You ordered, like, a koala. You may as well eat like one. You’re just, like… He’s talking. You can’t focus ’cause you’re starving, right? He’s yapping. You’re just, like… You finished your lettuce. There’s no more watercress on the plate. You’re just… You pull one… You’re looking at his food. You’re, like, “what’s that over there? Fry.” Talking, talking. You can’t focus. You can’t focus. You’re not getting any nutrients to your brain. You’re just kind of staring out the window, wondering what birds taste like. You’re just, like… You finished your lemon wedge, like, an hour ago. He’s still eating. He’s still talking. And you’re… you’re starting to get cold now. You’re not getting any nutrition into your bloodstream. Your spine is sticking out. You’re shivering. You start… You’re like a lost puppy. You start saying things that you don’t mean. He’s yapping. You start just saying things, like, “I would love to spend the afternoon with your mother. “That sounds great. And no, I totally cared “about that whole replacement refs thing. It really rocked my world as well.” Once you’re in a relationship, you can eat the way you want to. Once he loves you, you can roll out a trough at mealtime. It doesn’t matter. You can put your hands behind your back, county fair pie-eating-contest-style. “I love you. Is that the house cat?” Yeah, you can let it all hang out when he loves you. Then, you can show him how you eat. Once you’re in love, you can show him the 12-foot man-eating lizard you actually are. Your eyes light up red. Vwoom, vwoom. “Let’s get cheesecake.” “Oh, cool, sweetheart. You wanna share a piece of cheesecake?” “Uh-uh.” Tail swipe. “Get your own.” “All right, sweetheart. Dinner’s over. Did you get enough to eat?” I love when they ask that ’cause I’ve always wanted to give this answer. “Did you get enough to eat?” “Uh-uh.” “Why? What else do you want?” “Your soul! Fire!” Can I ask you… Can I ask you a question? Does this tail make my butt look big? Girls love eating. We do. We were the first ones to make it fun. Hello? Apple? Garden of Eden. Mm-hmm.

Girls love to eat. I saw a bachelorette party take down a live buffalo at 35 Miles an hour off the freeway. It was magnificent. The girls ran alongside it. Like, “Stacy put your veil over his snout.” You ever tried to get a group of drunk girls to walk from a bar to a restaurant? It’s like herding drunk, retarded sheep. First of all, yes, I love being a woman. We’re amazing. I love Beyonce. But we have no idea where we’re going. Okay? We’re walking around. All we know is that we got little sheep hooves on and we’re freezing because no one brought a jacket. Just walking forever, no clue. “I’m cold. I’m cold.” “Why didn’t you bring a jacket?” “‘Cause I’m in my 20s and I’m stupid.” “I’m cold.” “I have to pee. I’m cold.” “I have to pee. I don’t have solutions. Just more problems.” Everybody’s got that one girlfriend that’s a little filthy. She has no issue with peeing behind a dumpster. It holds everyone up. You’re all trying to walk and she’s back there. She’s, like… “You guys!” “Wa-a-a-ait.” “Wait, no, make sure nobody’s watching.” You’re sitting there running interference for your friend, like, “don’t look at her sheep vagina. Just mine.” I promise you nobody’s watching. I promise you. I promise you no guy is driving by, like, “ugh, well, tonight really sucks. “And I…” “Whoa.” “Is that a drunk girl peeing on hot garbage?” “That’s awesome.” “Oh, what am I doing? I got to get to the craft store.” Oh. So she’s… she’s done peeing. You’re all wandering. Now, you’re into the second hour. You’re still drunk somehow. You’re cold, you’re hungry, and you… Everybody’s got that one girlfriend that has a poor moral barometer. She’ll get in a car with any guy… As long as it looks warm. And she’ll rationalize why he’s not a rapist based solely on the way that he’s dressed. Every girl’s had to do this, right? You have to make these, like, game-time decisions. You’re, like, “he’s not gonna rape me. He’s wearing nike dunks.” “Guys, come over here.” Your friend goes over to the guy. She bends down like a streetwalker. She’s, like, “hi, what’s your name? “Todd? Oh, that’s a fun name. “That’s a really exotic name. Oh, you’ll give us a ride? Okay, that’s really fun. My name is crystal.” “Nice to meet you. “Hold on a second. You guys! He’s gonna give us a ride.” “He’s gonna give us a ride.” “Do you wanna go with him?” Your friends know better. They’re on the other side of the street huddled together, like, “crystal, get away.” “We’re not… get… he’s not…” Crystal’s stupid, and she’s already… She’s, like, “hold on one second. “Thank you so much. I really like your chin strap. It’s really attractive.” “Hold on one second. Hold on. “Let me… you guys! “He’s gonna give us a ride. “Like, do you wanna just keep walking? Sarah, you’re being a bitch.” “You are… like, we talked about this earlier “when you were in the bathroom. “You’re being… this is, like, what we talked about. “You’re being a… Do you not wanna… “you don’t wanna go with him? “You guy… hold on one second. “Thank you so much. Hold on one… “okay, hold on. Hold on a sec. “You guys, he’s gonna give us… He’s being nice. “Stop it. Stop it. He’s not… he’s not… He’s not gonna rape us.” “He’s not gonna rape us.” You have to whisper the rape part. Just in case that was his intention, you don’t want to offend him ahead of time. God forbid you offend him and he leaves. Oh, no. Then what? “He’s not gonna rape us. He’s wearing skechers.” That’s fair.

Now, you’re into hour three. You didn’t take the ride from chin strap. So you’re walking. You’re cold. No one knows where they’re going ’cause you’re all relying on girl GPS. For those of you that don’t know, girl GPS pretty much consists of one girl doing this: “Um…” “I feel like it’s this way.” Girls, when you get drunk, who are you most likely to pick a fight with? Your boyfriend. Do you wanna know why? ‘Cause you know he’s not gonna hit you back. Every girl in here knows that your boyfriend will take a healthy dose of your drunk ranting. Why? ‘Cause at the end of the night when you’re all tuckered out, he’s gonna want to mouth-kiss you and touch your snootch, that’s why. I hate to tell you it’s why they do everything. It’s why they put up with your attitude. It’s why they buy you expensive drinks. It’s why they let you make them turn the game off so you can show them what you did on pinterest. Okay? For snootches. “Steve, come here. Come look at this. “No, like, off. Like, turn it off. “Don’t p… Just, like, shut it off. “I wanna show you something. Come here. Come here. Come here.” “Look, look what I have. Look what I pinned. “Look at this. It’s an entire wedding made of cheese.” “It can be our wedding.” “Steven?” I call it a “snootch” ’cause I don’t like the word “vagina.” No one says “vagina.” Like, no one says that. That’s weird. No one here has ever been hooking up with someone and been, like, “this feels great. Continue to touch my vagina.” Vagina? What? A vagina sounds like an Indian casino. “This weekend at vagina…” “Wayne Newton at vagina.” I made up “snootch” ’cause it’s so cute-sounding. Snootch. Snootch. Maybe it would be, like, a cartoon character. Maybe it would be, like, a cute, tiny, furry… obviously… character. It’s got a little top hat. And maybe before you have sex, you have to summon snootch so he can bless the whole thing. Yeah, that’s what you have to do. You’re having… You’re about to have sex. You have to get out a snootch flute which you have to preorder. You have to order them online. It’s a… it’s a dot-gov site. You pull it out. You’re, like, “you ready to have sex?” “Sure, let’s… let’s… Let’s summon snootch.” “Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo. Snootch!” “Hi, folks.” “Hi, snootch. “We were just about to have sex. Do we have your blessing?” “Well, you surely do. “It was nice meeting both of you, “but I better be on my way. “Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo. Snootch!” So cute. I made up “snootch” ’cause I don’t like the p-word. I don’t like saying it. It’s not a lady word. Pussy. If I got to say it, there’s gonna be an involuntary facial spasm that comes with it. You should know that. I will ruin any sort of moment we have going in the bedroom. “All right, babe. This is great. Tell me where you want me to put it.” “I’ll say it, but you’re not gonna like it.” “Come on. Where do you want me to put it?” “Why don’t you put it in my pussy!” “I can’t.” “What’d you say?” “Nothing. I’m fine, I’m fine.” “All right. Let’s do this.” “Great.” “All right, come on. “Let’s get back to it. All right, where do you want me to put it?” “Why don’t you put it in my pussy!” “No!” It’s not a lady word. Ladies don’t say that word. Like, growing up, did your mom ever say, “pussy, you need to shower?” No, she didn’t, right? No, and if she did, then your mom was white trash. It’s not a lady word. It’s not a word that women hear independent of men. Most women don’t hear that word, like, in professional ether. No woman’s laying there at the gynecologist. Doctor walks in, he’s, like… “What’s up?” “How’s it hangin’? All right, let’s see. Pussy checks out all right.” “Great tits, by the way. Good hustle. Get outta here.” It’s… it’s a guy word. I don’t care that guys say it. Boys are gross, and that’s why we love them, okay? But that’s a guy thing. That’s what guys say in the locker rooms with… with… With all their grossness. I’d imagine they go to the locker room after a rousing game of touch softball, and they talk about the p-word. “Hey, what’s up? What’s up, bro? “What’s up? Did you get any… Did you get any pussy last night?” “Yeah, a whole bucket.” I don’t know how you quantify it. I don’t know if it goes bucket, mug, ramekin. I don’t know. But that’s what guys do in the locker rooms with the butt slaps and the sword fighting. That’s what they do. We know about that. We know you do weird things with each other with your wieners ’cause you do weird things with us, and you’re trying to impress us. So I can only imagine what creepiness goes on behind closed doors. I’ve seen it firsthand. Every girl has.

Every girl’s had that boyfriend where you’re sitting on the bed in your target underwear waiting. He comes out of the bathroom naked except for a t-shirt. No bottoms, Donald ducking it the whole way. He’s got this grin on his face. And he’s just, like, “hey, babe. Babe, check this out.” Why are you doing that? On behalf of all women, why? It’s never gonna change a girl’s mind, ever. You are not helping yourself. No woman, I promise you, ever… You’re sitting there doing that like a circus monkey, no girl is gonna turn around, like… “My, my, my.” “You know what’s crazy? “Um… “I didn’t want to have sex with you before. “But now… “Now that you’ve displayed the agility…” “Of your flaccid penis… “As it slaps in rhythmic repetition… “Against either one “of your clearly never-seen-by-the-sun thighs, now, snootch time.”

In closing, I would… In closing, I would like to give the girls in this room a bit of advice, okay? I have a tip for you, but just the tip. Ladies, never order a lobster on a date. The lobster is the most expensive thing on the menu, okay? So just know that if you order and consume a lobster, you have to touch your date’s weiner. You have to, okay? It’s like a sexual contract from the sea. It’s binding. Now, keep in mind he wants you to get the lobster. He’s not gonna make you get it, but he’s hoping you’ll come to that conclusion on your own. He’s hoping you’ll be flipping through the menu, and you’ll be, like, “I don’t know what to get. “Like, I’m just… i don’t know. I’m eating fresh this week. “I’m eating a lot of fresh things. “That’s my new thing, fresh. I’m just gonna do fresh food.” “Lobster? “Should I… should I get it? Should I get it? “Should I get the lobster? “Should I crack it open on my head like an otter, “eat it off my chest? Lobster?” “Yeah, ’cause then, it’s weiner time this Sunday at vagina.” Here’s how it’s gonna go down, okay? You’re gonna be making out later. And now, guys, this is for you to know. Just so you know, as girls, we like to make out with you when we first meet you. We like to make out with you a couple times and then leave right when you think we’re gonna sleep with you, okay? We do it to make sure that you like us. But if you want to know the truth, they teach us this shit in high school. While you were off building a birdhouse in shop class, we were off learning how to be annoying. Here’s how it happens. You’re gonna be making out. And you’ll notice that when a girl makes out with you and leaves you, we always leave in a very sweet way because we want you to have a nice impression of us for later, right? So it’s always, like, “okay, well, I gotta go. Bye.” No, you didn’t. No. “Bye. I love you too. Stop it.” It’s always very sweet, right? I’ve gone as far as to sometimes bring a little thing of vanilla body spray. And when he gets up to go to the bathroom, I spray it on his pillow. That way, later, when he texts me, he’s like, “oh, my God. My pillow still smells like you.” I’m like, “that’s amazing.” “I don’t know why.” You can get creative with it. You can take a handful of glitter on your date. And then after you’re leaving, just be, like, “okay, I gotta go.” “Bye.” You can bring a smoke bomb… And then, like, still be standing there ’cause you don’t know magic.

Girls always leave in a sweet way. We never leave in a huff. It’s never, like, “well, I got mine. Eat my shit later, fuck-tard.” Never doing that. So we’re gonna be making out later. And here’s how it’s gonna go. We’re gonna be making out, okay? So this is making out, okay? I’m 12, this is what making out looks like. And the guy’s gonna be, like, “oh, I like making out with you so much.” “I like making out with you.” “Tonight was so fun.” “It was really fun.” “You’re so hot.” “I know.” “This is so fun. I really like you. You’re so pretty.” “I know, this is great. I am pretty.” “Oh, I like you a lot. So you wanna keep going?” Girls, that’s your cue. “All right, well, I gotta go.” “What?” “I gotta go, bye.” “Later.” And the guy is gonna try to get you to stay, right? As he should. You can’t just walk out of a spider’s web. “You’re really gonna go? Come on. Come on. “Amber. You really gonna go? You really gonna go?” “Really gonna go?” “Really just go? You’re just gonna go? Huh?” “You’re just gonna leave it like this?” “I’m sorry. “Were we in the middle of open heart surgery? “I’m pretty sure you’re fine. “Yeah. “I’m not a doctor per se, but I’m fairly confident “that blood will return to your system. Walk it off, champ.” That might sound harsh, but it took ten years of me dating to learn that a boner isn’t a medical condition. So I’m paying you back right now. Now, he’s pissed, mostly because he has a raging erection and you called him “champ.” Now, he’s mad. “Really? You’re gonna go? That’s messed up. That’s messed up!” “It’s messed up, Amber. You’re just gonna go. “Let me… Just gonna go? “It’s funny. It’s funny. “You’re just gonna go ’cause, uh… Huh. I distinctly remember I bought you a lobster.” The man’s right. Time to pay the Piper. Girls, you do not have to sleep with him. It’s just a crustacean. That’s ridiculous, all right? But you got to give him something. I-I suggest a beej. That’s what I suggest. That’s proper. Don’t do a hand job. That’s ridiculous. That’s child’s play. Hand job? A handy? Really? As a grown woman, you’re not doing a hand job, okay? If you voted, you’re not doing a hand job. Let’s send some hand jobs overseas to China. Not doing a hand job. A hand job, who does… That’s what kids do when you’re, like, a teenager. You do a hand job. You put on your promise ring. You revel in your virginity for the next 10 to 15 years depending on your involvement with comic books. That’s what a hand job is for. As an adult, it’s not happening. It’s an intermediary step in a sexual evolution that you’ve evolved past, okay? It’s like a tail… Necessary at one point for balance, but if you busted it out at a house party, people would be, like, weirded out.

I was out with a guy one time who I wasn’t even into. I didn’t want to do anything. And he didn’t buy me a lobster. And I was… I explained everything. And after talking to him, he’s like, “I’d like a hand job.” “I think it sounds great.” And I guess I was frustrated ’cause he hadn’t been listening to me or my feelings. And I was like, “all right. “I’ll tell you what, son. “I’m gonna give you a hand job. But it’s gonna be on my terms.” “45 minutes long…” “No lotion…” “And you don’t break eye contact. Go!” What kills me is that you get that I’m kidding. He did not. I swear to God he goes, “aw, no lotion?” “That doesn’t sound fun.” Like the 45-minute part is tolerable? “Iliza, come on. You gotta do something. You gotta give me lotion or do something cute.” It threw me off that he said “cute” because that’s not an adjective I believe belongs anywhere near an h.J. It sounded creepy in a way. I was like, “what do you mean ‘cute’? “What… what’s cute? What do you want? What do you want, kitten paws?” It’s probably how that one cat lost his eye. You guys are fantastic. Thank you so much for coming out.

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