1
[sea gulls cawing]
[fog horn blows]
Guys, I'm about to take a giant ship.
[audience cheering]
Thank you so much!
Thank you.
Thank you so much...
for being here. So...
first up on the agenda is...
I got engaged.
[audience cheers]
Thank you. Thank you.
I appreciate that enthusiasm.
I appreciate the applause
because I live in Los Angeles
and when you tell people in L.A. that
you got engaged, they don't applaud.
You tell people in L.A.
that you got engaged, they're like,
[drawls] "Good for you.
Good for..."
[bleats]
So you tell people you got engaged,
and the next sort of obligatory thing
out of their mouth
is, like, "How did you guys meet?
[chomps]
[grunts]
[grunts]
How did you meet?"
And I don't like to tell people
how we met.
I don't like to tell people how we met.
It's not bad. It's not embarrassing.
It's just not cool.
Like, we met on a dating app.
Right, like all of you. Yeah.
[audience laughs]
We met on a dating app, which is a...
less of a product of my lack of creativity
and more a result of my generation.
I'm a millennial.
That's how we meet each other, okay?
Yeah.
A dating app, at a bar,
or it's like, "Uh, I got her pregnant.
Oh well, Skylar will make
a good mom."Like, that's it.
Some of you were so quiet when I said
I was a millennial. Fuck you, okay?
I am... 35.
[audience cheers]
Which means I was born in 1983,
which means I am...
right at the cutoff.
Okay, so I am a millennial,
but I am an elder!
Elder millennial!
Wizened.
Sage.
Yes, gather 'round the Snapchat, children.
I'll tell you the tale...
[exhales]
of the landline.
[mouths silently] Hello, goodbye.
When I was a young girl...
I once sent a text message
from a Sidekick.
I remember when Skechers were invented.
They were ugly then.
And they're ugly now.
In high school...
we danced to a band called Sugar Ray.
How did you guys meet?
You ask a girl, "How did you guys meet?"
We want to tell you.
We want to tell you...
everything.
We want to give you personal information,
background story,
ancillary information,
anything information.
You don't need...
Just say, "How did we meet?"
Okay, are you sitting down?
Chapter One. In the seventh grade,
I showed an aptitude for the clarinet."
Like, we take it... back!
We want you to know so much.
You ask a guy, "How did you guys meet?"
Men aren't... They don't volunteer
personal information as readily.
Seldom will you meet a guy where
you're, like, "How did you guys meet?"
And he's, like, "All right,
so I'm a Pisces, so I love faces." Like...
A man's objective is often to let you know
not so much how they met,
but to let you know that, like,
"I could still fuck if I wanted to.
All right? 'Cause I'm a fuck man.
That's how I do.
I'm not gonna fuck anyone,
cause I'm fucking her, but...
I come from a long line of fuck men,
all right?
My daddy was a fuck man,
my granddaddy was afuck man.
I fuck.
[imitates gun cocking]
I pack up this dick, on to the next town.
Yeah.
[imitates launcher blasting]
Fire in the hole.
Fuck Man Terry, that's what they call me.
Down at the... Walgreens, whatever."
How did you guys meet?
And I say this next part as a woman
that champions other women,
as a woman who chose to be single
for a very long time.
I always feel, when single women ask me,
"So, how did you guys meet?"
It's less about a genuine personal inquiry
for me,
and it's more like
they're looking for clues, like,
"Where did you find a suitor?
Tell us your ways."
Like, you walk in...
to a Trader Joe's on a Sunday night.
'Cause that's when hot girls
go grocery shopping.
Like, I'm buying flowers for me, right?
You walk into a Trader Joe's with a ring
on your left hand,
single women can feel
the vibrations of the ring.
They're like, "The ring! It mocks us!"
And they...
They come out
of the frozen yogurt aisle...
Lululemon, highlighted hair, like,
"Tell us your ways,
we wish to be betrothed as well.
Secrets.
Tell us. Be a girl's girl."
There's no secret, just so we're clear.
Don't buy the books. Don't buy the hype.
Don't listen to your...
There's no secret, okay?
I'm going to be 35 when I get married.
All right? If there was a secret,
I would have fucking used it.
There's no... secret.
There's no special magic to it.
I'm never going to be, like,
"Gather round, ladies.
Off the 405 lies a toadhole...
You must go to it."
No secret. Plus, chances are,
if you are single
and you are not enjoying that time
in your life,
you're probably doing everything
in your power to not be single.
I don't know a single girl out there
that's, like, "I hate being single.
I don't get it. I wash
with ham and cat hair. Where is he?
Where is he?"
Women have no problem letting people know
that they are looking for a relationship.
We shout it from the mountaintops.
We take a seminar.
We take a class, we ask around.
Do you have a... Do you know anyone?
Are you single? Do you have a brother?
Does your brother have a brother? I guess
that would be your brother. Do you have
a sister? I will take anything.
We let people know...
We get license plates made
like "LOOKIN4U." Like, we let you know.
I feel like men
are a little bit more laissez-faire
when it comes to relationships.
Like, "Uh, I guess I fell into her,
now we got four kids."
Like, it's just kind of...
It's less deliberate.
Women are, like, "This way."
"I guess I'll just go that way."
It just becomes...
Their stories are less deliberate.
I've asked a lot of guys,
"How did you meet your girl?"
I've noticed that about 80%
of the stories sound very similar.
80% of the time it's, like,
"How did we meet? All right, well...
I was out with my buddies.
And you know me,
I wasn't looking for anybody.
[guffaws]
And then I saw her."
And that lie becomes...
A big part of our narrative as women,
this hope that we will go out
and a man is going to see us,
save us, rescue us.
It's this hope that we're going to be
seen and that's going to happen for us.
And we all have this sort of shared
fantasy where you walk into a...
a club or a bar with five of your
girlfriends who look exactly like you.
And you walk in
and a man picks you out of the crowd,
sees you for the beautiful soul
that you are, like, decides...
like, there's some DJ up there
and he looks out and he's, like... [gasps]
"Her."
And you're, like, "Me?" [caws]
And then your life begins, right?
This is not our fault for expecting this
or thinking this will happen.
We have been taught this message
since we were little girls.
Princesses get saved.
Snow White got saved by the prince.
It was really the seven dwarves
and she was, like, lost in a forest.
But, like...
seven men.
Who is she? Right.
Sleeping Beauty was saved when the prince
kissed her while she was sleeping.
Terrible moral.
What do we take away from that?
Generations of men, like,
"No, if you just kiss 'em
when they're sleeping,
they're forever grateful...
Officer."
So naturally we go out
hoping to be discovered.
And there's this weird thing
where a lot of girls, when we're single,
we don't want to admit that we're
going out hoping a man notices us.
Like, of course you are,
but we don't want to seem desperate.
No, I'm just going out
with my girlfriends, just in full makeup,
with padded everything.
This is just for fun. I'm just going out.
It's normal to want to be noticed
by someone that you find attractive.
That's the caveat, okay?
It's normal...
to want that attention.
Even when you're in a relationship,
you still have a beating heart.
You still want people to let you know
you're attractive.
Even if you're with your guy,
you're holding his hand
and you're walking,
and you just see some hot guy,
and you're just like, "You like that?"
He's like, "I like that." Okay.
No harm, no foul.
We all try this bullshit, like,
"I'm not even trying." Really? Then put
a feed bag over your head. Carry an onion.
You're trying, okay?
You don't have to try that hard, but
you're going out. It's nice to be noticed.
So we all do it. We all put on the makeup.
We force our chub into some pants.
You shove your coyote paws
into some heels and we go out.
[imitates coyote call]
And you don't even hunt.
What do you do, girls? You just stand
in a pack of six other women.
Six other coyotes.
[chitters]
Getting annoyed
that no guy's hitting on you?
Yeah, there's six of you.
He's terrified.
We get annoyed so quickly when a guy
doesn't notice, like, all the effort.
So then what do you say? You're like,
"This sucks, let's take a lap."
So you just move...
in a perfume cloud
around the perimeter of the bar.
Maybe they're more progressive
ten feet from here.
So this begs the question, as women,
as feminists...
Maybe some... one or two lazy guys
might pause at the question.
"How come the guy's got to hit
on the girl?
You're an independent woman.
Why can't a girl hit on a guy?
Why can't the girl hit on the guy?"
God's honest answer?
'Cause we did all this.
You fucking do something, Scott.
That's the answer.
It's a lot.
[audience cheering]
Okay.
A lot. I haven't had bread in five months.
It's a lot, okay?
A big part of the reason
women don't hit on men
is that women aren't seen as equal to men.
Therefore, when we step out
of a traditional feminine role,
and do something alpha and hit on a guy
and he rejects us,
it hurts that much more.
And on a biological level,
you know, at your core, he's not rejecting
you based on your shoes or your outfit.
He's rejecting...
your eggs.
You get up all this nerve
to talk to a guy, like, "Excuse me,
would you like my eggs?"
"I don't want those fucking eggs."
Please! I only have but a few.
Women aren't seen as equal to men,
so it's uncomfortable to hit on men.
There's a lot more at risk for us.
Maybe one day...
in a utopia where men and women
are considered equal,
maybe one day we can hit on men
unencumbered by self-esteem issues.
But as it stands now,
that's not something we can do.
Our grandmothers didn't hit on men.
Our mothers didn't hit on men.
Maybe one day.
Maybe my generation changes it.
It's too late. But...
maybe my generation,
with the hashtags and the tweets,
maybe we'll change it
so that our great-granddaughters
can hit on men. Yes, that's the dream,
that we do the work now
so that our great-granddaughters
will know the thrill
of hitting on a half-in-the-bag Guido
outside a taco truck at 2:00 a.m.
'Tis but a dream.
Another big part of the reason
that women don't hit on men is that
men are better at dealing with rejection.
Sexually.
Women are not used to dealing...
with rejection... when it comes to sex.
We're used to dealing with rejection
when it comes to the idea of, I dunno,
governing our own bodies,
having our own thoughts,
getting paid the same for the same job
a man does, but...
when it comes...
[audience cheers]
When it comes to sexual rejection,
men deal with it more than women
because they have more at bats.
They hit on women more.
Ask the guy next to you.
Be like, "When was the last time
you were sexually rejected?"
He'll be like, "Do you mean, like,
in the Uber on the way here?
At the box office?
Like, behind that plane while you were
in thebathroom? Like, be specific."
'Cause every guy knows...
it's about the at bats.
It's about how many times
can you hit on a girl.
'Cause you know
eventually one's going to say yes.
When men first start going out,
it's about quantity over quality,
like, "Hey, sweetheart!" "Ew."
"You're ugly anyway. How about you?"
Like, you just keep going through it.
'Cause every guy knows
you got to kiss a lot of frogs
if you're gonna what, guys?
Fuck a frog, that's right. So...
'Cause he knows. Every guy...
They're not going to admit it to you,
every guy knows
If he hits on, like, 20 women in a night,
one's gotta say yes.
Like, one gross-out's gotta be, like...
[mutters] "Yeah, all right." And, like...
2:00 a.m., it's his Hail Mary,
at the buzzer pass,
the lights are coming on, he's like,
"How about you?"
Some girl will turn around and be, like,
"Okay.
Can we wash my hump before we make love?
Just kidding. It's an egg.
So...
And by that same token, men aren't allowed
to have feelings in our society,
which isn't fair.
You're expected to move past it,
work through it. Get over it.
Women don't get over...
anything.
No, we don't get over it.
Instead, we hold onto it.
We hold onto that rejection.
We hold onto it.
We pluck it out of space-time
and we examine it from hindsight.
We put it in different scenarios.
We bring in experts, like,
"Stacy, get over here!
Remember that guy,
took me to Coachella,
never called me again?
Shall we drive to his house?"
And sometimes... we hold onto the pain
of our rejection
so tight...
that theybecome part...
of the makeup of our personalities.
And then we get to use the pain
of that past rejection, ladies,
as an excuse for why we are the weird
brand of fucked-up that we are, now!
"'Cause he broke up with me
over breakfast,
so now I don't drink milk,
and I'm annoying."
Like, it's always... something.
Every girl in here remembers
almost every time she was rejected.
Because for women, it doesn't happen
as much for men.
And every girl, every human,
remembers the first time
they were rejected. I'll go first.
Fourth grade. So...
We were going to sit down for circle time.
And I went and sat by a boy
that I thought was cute.
And he told me to go away.
Now, he's dead.
Now I don't sit in circles any more.
But we cherish our rejections.
They give us texture,
they give us personality.
And we take each one and we label it.
We label each issue, each past grievance,
in its own Mason jar.
It's very rustic. Pin it. And we put it...
into our sack of emotional baggage.
Each one.
He broke up with me
because I slept with his brother.
Well, they're twins. They should wear
different-colored hats or something.
I was set up. And we put it...
into our baggage, and we throw
that baggage over our shoulder
and what do we do, girls?
We then walk it into the new relationship.
Yes. And the best part is,
the new boyfriend...
has no idea...
what you're hauling.
And he welcomes you.
Yes, he welcomes you
to the new union.
Like, "Oh, come on in.
You seem pretty cool and well-adjusted.
And you're, like, "Oh, I am!
Yes, this seems like a safe place
for me to...
unpack my shit!"
[guffaws]
Another big part of the reason
that women don't hit on men
is because men... typically don't find
strong women attractive.
They don't. Your date's going
to look at you and be like, "No way, babe.
I love a strong woman."
Bullshit, Chad, okay?
They love vulnerability.
It's very attractive
when a woman is vulnerable.
Why is that?
Men are very physical creatures.
Women are very verbal.
Men are very physical.
So when a woman is vulnerable,
hypothetically, it would mean...
that she needs physical help.
And when a man feels
he can be of help physically,
then he feels needed, and that makes him
feel good and attractive.
When a man feels he can insert himself.
No pun intended.
But fuck it. We're making a comedy show.
Pun intended, okay?
You got to give him something to do.
And we, as women, a lot of times fault men
for not communicating the way that we do.
Women speak more words on average
than men.
It's not one's better or dumber
than the other, it's just the way we are.
We talk at you. "I wanna talk.
I wanna be communicative
about being communicative.
You're not saying anything. Why aren't you
talking... You're not being communicative
about your lack of being communicative.
I want to talk about how much I hate
my friend Stacy. You haven't met Stacy,
but when you meet her,
you're gonna fucking hate her."
We have to have...
And he's just sitting there, like,
"Mongo, no." Like, it's scary.
If you have any doubt if a guy likes you,
don't always look for the words,
look for the actions.
They will show you.
I wish someone had told this to me
when I was in my 20s.
'Cause when you're younger, you're like,
"He's just not texting back.
He's just busy.
He's just at work. His family died."
There's no bullshit like that.
When a guy likes you, he shows up.
If you have any doubt
if the guy with you tonight likes you,
give him something to do.
If a guy likes you, he'll do anything.
Be like, "Will you carry
this glittery brick of cat shit?"
He'll be like, "No problem."
They're happy to do it.
When a guy likes you,
carrying your purse isn't an issue.
They'll carry your bags if they're heavy.
They'll put gas in the car
if you don't want to deal.
They'll check under the hood for the...
thing, I don't know.
But they'll do that.
It's very attractive when a woman
is vulnerable and needs help.
And that's historically
always been that way it is.
I didn't make that up.
That's why the term is...
"damsel in distress".
Not "overly opinionated dyke
who needs a fucking hand, man!"
That's why.
If a woman can do it for herself,
it's not as attractive.
Let's put it this way.
If we're all animals, okay?
And men are...
lions.
And women are, like, gazelles.
What's a lion, if he's hungry,
more likely to go after?
The gazelle, running at 90,
unencumbered by a self-esteem issue?
Like, I own my home and have a Ph.D.
[chortles]
I enjoy witty banter,
I just put a down payment on a boat,
and I don't hate my daddy. Onward!
Or...
remember he's hungry. Or...
the gazelle with the broken hoof, like,
"Help, how does basketball work?"
Like, what?
An easier meal.
Side note.
I am aware that it's the lioness,
not the lion, that does the hunting.
But let's pretend that that lion
was, like, a bachelor and hadn't
met his wife yet. Okay, so...
We got all the zoologist questions
out of the way.
So...
I will stand up here,
and perhaps other women in your life
that you consider strong
will stand in front of you
and tell you,
"Be strong, do it your way, be tough."
And it's one thing to say that,
and for a lot of women
it's very difficult to live that
when everything that we're taught
tells us the opposite.
Every movie we've seen
since we were little girls
has an opposite message.
In movies, it's not the strong girl,
the funny girl, the brave girl,
the smart girl, the loud girl,
the opinionated girl who gets the hot guy.
No, girls like me get, like, fucking Steve
Zahn and Jonah Hill. Like, that's what...
She is funny, and he looks funny,
then they'll fuck funny
and they'll appreciate each other's souls.
And it's always...
it's always the quiet girl.
Right, the new girl that gets, like,
Channing Tatum.
It's always the girl that doesn't realize
how beautiful she is.
The girl that isn't funny,
isn't opinionated.
The subtext of that message is,
"That's right. That's right, girls.
Men don't like a lippy woman,
so zip it, hottie."
'Cause it's always that.
It's always the girl
that doesn't know she's hot.
Which, by the way,
that Hollywood archetype? Bullshit.
Okay? It's bullshit.
Because you fucking know when you're hot.
No one's walking around, like,
"What do I do with these giant tits
and thin legs?"
How did I get on this Victoria's Secret
catwalk? I'm choking on my silky hair."
Like, you know.
And we keep seeing the same story
over and over.
It's about the girl
that's unsure of herself,
and a guy sees through it,
and then she realizes how beautiful she is
when she takes off her glasses...
Like, it's the same thing.
It's always the girl, she's like,
"I don't know if I should go out."
And the girls that are outgoing,
that maybe enjoy their bodies,
are confident, are like, "Let's go out!"
"I don't know. I should stay home.
I've never left the house before."
"We're taking you out. Let's go drink,
let's go dance..."
"I should stay in.
I should stay in and study."
"We're 35. What are you
fucking talking about? Let's go!"
Walk into the nightclub,
all the girls that are confident
are dancing, they're having fun, right?
They're like, "Hey, Channing Tatum!"
He's like, "Later, hookers. I want her!"
All the girls throwing...
"Uh-uh. Her."
Cut to our hero, she's just sitting there
in a corner, just...
maybe she wore, like, board shorts
to the club. She has no idea.
All right? She's reading a book.
Maybe she has brown hair. Whatever.
Before you get all offended at that,
look at all of our eyebrows.
We all have brown hair, okay.
Maybe not you, I don't know.
I don't see any
pure Norwegians here, okay?
This joke isn't about
shaming that type of woman.
This joke is not about that.
Whatever kind of woman you are,
you're quiet, you're fat, you're small,
you're big, you're tall,
you're loud, you don't know much,
you got a gill,
whatever kind of woman you are...
you are right.
That's it.
Whatever you've chosen to be...
whatever you want to be...
you are correct in being that
as long as you're happy.
My point to you is,
if you are the shy type,
if you are the wallflower,
if you are the shrinking violet,
if you are another...
floral metaphor that has to do...
with being an introvert,
my point to you
is that you don't want the guy
who wants you because of that energy.
A man who wants a woman
because she looks scared...
is a sexual predator.
[audience cheers]
Okay?
All these girls that he could hit on,
he picks the one that's, like,
shivering like a wet chihuahua.
Like a nervous street urchin
just in a corner
putting out all kinds of "no" vibes.
You don't want the guy that walks up
and is like, "Excuse me.
I couldn't help but notice
you look terrified.
Wanna see my dick?" So...
"I was out with my buddies.
I wasn't looking for anyone.
And I saw her."
The idea...
that in a nightlife setting...
that the man would ever see the woman...
before the woman saw the man.
No.
Women are astute, but moreover, women
are the ones with the biological clocks.
Women are the ones with
the socially predetermined shelf life.
Women are the ones who are cantilevered
off the edge of high heels.
We've got about five hours
before we have to take them off
and walk through a lobby flat-foot, okay.
Women are the ones whose skin
and foundation is dehydrating
with every alcoholic beverage imbibed.
We are the ones on a time crunch,
on a schedule, okay?
You saw me first?
Bullshit, motherfucker.
I clocked you!
Like, the second you walked in.
Dudes walk in in a pack, unaware, like,
"I'd better fill out this bracket,
or I'll turn into a pumpkin at midnight."
You're not even...
You walked in, I was already hunting
with five other women.
He walked in and I was, like, "Hold!"
And then we stalked around you.
Encircled you, sussed you out,
like a German shepherd
sniffing out an IED in the sand,
motherfucker. Like, we...
And a lot of times, men pride themselves
on being very observant, right?
You ever date a guy that,
if you go to a restaurant,
he can't sit with his back to the door?
"Nah, I gotta sit with my back to the wall
so I can assess all entrance
and exit points. I gotta make sure that..."
Okay, while you're checking out
the people eating at Denny's,
I checked your fucking credit score, okay?
While you were doing
counter-surveillance, like,
I looked you up and down,
I gave you a pre-cancer mole check.
It's benign, move on.
I looked at everything.
"I'm an alpha. I gotta look at the door."
If you ever date a man that says
he's an alpha...
he's a beta. So...
A lion doesn't tell you he's a lion.
He just lets the girl hunt for him.
Okay, so...
So, we look at everything.
You think men judge women harshly?
They do. But, gentlemen, you have no idea
what we're looking at.
We're judging your hair,
we're judging your shoes,
we scan you, like Predator.
Every atom, every molecule of your DNA,
we go through it like...
"Scanning for physical abnormalities.
Is he balding? Okay, but is it in
a weird way?
Is that a goatee? What's happening there?
Is his shirt unbuttoned too low
for his ethnicity?
Is he wearing embroidered jeans?
If so, is he a European male
or just someone from Arizona?"
Like, we go through it.
We go through it.
We aren't looking to see
if you're the hottest guy ever. Nay.
We are merely assessing
if you're 50% attractive enough
that we want to put the effort
into putting ourselves in your orbit.
So that, in an hour,after a drink or two,
you, gentlemen, have the luxury
of turning around and being, like, "Oh,
excuse me, I couldn't help but notice."
And then we turn around, like...
[pants] "Really?"
That's it.
Just set it up for you to knock it down.
A lot of times it's not that easy.
A lot of times, we see a guy
that we think is cute...
and he doesn't notice us,
so we have to make you... notice us.
A lot of times, we get our girlfriend
to help us. Every girl's done this.
There's a boy over there you think
is cute, you're, like, "Come here.
Come here.
Do you see that guy, that guy over there?
Over there.
Over there.
Do you see him? Do you see that guy?
Are you looking? Do you see him?
Don't look!
Do you see him? Are you looking?
Is he looking? Is he looking?
He's looking? Start dancing.
Start dancing.
Come here, keep talking.
Say something funny. Just start talking
so I don't look like a loser."
[laughs awkwardly]
You're trying to put out...
this vibe that you're so carefree.
'Cause you, and don't lie about this,
you want him to look over and be, like,
"Oh, there will never be another, there
has never been another. She is the one."
You want him to be so taken.
"She looks like she doesn't need a man,
so carefree."
"I'm so carefree, I don't use condoms!"
So effortless.
If he was close,
he wouldn't be hearing it.
From afar, you want him to hear...
[giggles] Sports.
If he were close,
what he'd actually hear is your...
[screams] Like, you're trying so hard.
Please!
He's going to find you,
he's going to see you at some point.
There's only so many places
in a room, a bar, a club,
that your eyes can fall.
He's going to see you.
This is the important part girls, okay?
You're out there,
it's a competitive situation.
There's a lot of girls,
there's a lot of bars.
He's gonna look at you,
that's your chance, okay?
That's your chance.
You've only got one shot.
It's like 8 Mile, but with flirting.
Hopefully there's no vomit on your shirt.
Maybe it's a good thing.
Maybe he'd be like, "She parties!"
I don't know.
He's going to look over, the lights
are going to reflect and refract,
and they're gonna hit you both
and he's gonna see you,
and that's your chance, ladies,
to fucking stick it, and pose,
like a peacock in heat that you are.
Just...
[caws]
Don't dance like that.
Little bit of insight to stand-up comedy,
and the risk and reward
with choosing certain jokes.
That joke is a risk because I realize
not every one here knows...
what a peacock sounds like.
But for, like, the 12 of you that knew,
it was so worth it for me.
And for the rest of you,
the good news is
you don't ever have to hear a peacock,
'cause that was, like, top ten peacock
impressions you're going to hear...
tonight.
[caws]
I hate it. I hate the noise.
I'm allowed to make fun of peacocks,
'cause I grew up with them.
What I find so unsettling,
if I might divert from the stand-up
to a TED Talk about ornithology
for, like, two seconds, the...
it's the dip in the mating call
that gives me...
[caws, retches]
It's just not...
We, as avian enthusiasts, which is why
you've come to my comedy show...
enjoy consistency in a mating call.
Like, a crow or a raven is like...
[caws like a crow]
It just goes. Right?
And a dove and its low-rent cousin,
the pigeon, that's just...
[coos]
Right?
The dove and the bird it
loans money to, just...
[coos]
Right? And we all know a warbler
goes like...
"I'm a warbler." I don't know. And then...
and the bald eagle is, like,
"Fucking freedom!" Okay, so...
we know.
To me, the peacock sounds
like a tired hooker.
Like he's just standing on the corner,
like, "You want a fuck or what?
I already paid for the room."
Another side note,
I realize that a peacock is the male.
And they're the ones
with the beautiful plumage.
A peacock that's a female is a peahen.
And their colors are muted.
So really it's kind of a feminist joke
'cause it's about a male prostitute.
Mmm, okay, so...
So you peacock and he sees you,
and he walks up. "Excuse me,
I couldn't help but notice..."
And you start talking,
and maybe you have some drinks,
maybe you dance, maybe you exchange
numbers, maybe you start to date.
Now, I happen to think the very beginning
of a new relationship
is the most exciting part
of the relationship.
Granted, I'm not married yet,
so, technically, I've only had beginnings
of relationships.
I don't know. I can't say empirically
how fun being married is.
I'll tell you on the next comedy special
what that's all about.
But I don't know.
The beginning of a relationship
is exciting because it's brand new.
You're both on your best behavior,
it's still electric,
you're not totally sure
about the history of mental illness
in each other's families.
It's fun.
And the most nerve-wracking part
of a new relationship
when you're younger,
is the first time a boy comes over
to your apartment.
Because it's ostensibly like
your girlfriend audition time.
Like, you want him to come in
and be, like, "It's so homey.
I'd like to stay forever."
You're like, "Yes, come closer."
Like, that's what you want.
You try so hard in your 20s, right?
Because you're young, and it's fun.
That's your 20s. In your 30s...
[mutters]
In your 30s,
homeboy knocks on the door, you open it,
you're standing there in combat boots,
nothing else, and a garbage can on fire,
you're like, "Welcome to Fuckdome, Scott."
Ticket? Okay, so...
But it's interesting, 'cause in your 20s,
it's a weird mental game.
Boy's coming over for the first time,
you're trying to reconcile
the beautiful home that your mother kept
that you lived in growing up,
with the beautiful home that, like,
Pinterest says you're supposed to have.
And the fact that you have
no fucking money, so...
You're like, "Should I buy a rug
or eat dinner? I don't know."
Like, It's so hard.
Boy's coming over, you are cleaning
like you've never cleaned before,
and it's hard
because women secretly are... filthy.
No one wants to laugh about it.
You're like, "Not me!"
And no guy wants to imagine, like,
"No way, my girlfriend's so hot."
Yeah? You think you have a hot girlfriend?
Check the center console of her car.
She's owned that car for a decade.
It's just...
Every year, the shit just piles up.
You open that, like, "I didn't know
an Acura came with a time capsule!"
You just shut it.
You open it again.
You just hear, "Help!"
Like there's just something in there.
It's our little filthy secret stockpile,
right?
It's a Now That's What I Call Music CD.
"In case they come back!" Yeah.
It's one of those cables that plugs
from the tape player into the CD player.
It's a spilled nail polish,
it's, like, a little bit of weed dust.
It's a... Calgon body spray,
'cause you'd rather smell
like a stripper than weed, right?
It's that...
It's a Lip Smacker, Dr Pepper flavor,
that's just... lying there with a gash
in the wax neck,
like, "Tell my children I died well."
Like it's...
it's an iPhone 4 charger.
It's some McDonald's napkins.
It's a French fry.
Times that center console by a million...
in her apartment.
You are just cleaning
with Swiffer and Brawny.
It's like a winter wonderland
of paper towels.
You're just shoving shit under the rugs.
'Cause you didn't build a shelf,
I dunno how that fucking works.
You're just moving everything,
you take everything...
You put your coats in the oven.
Burn 'em! I live in L.A. Take everything.
You take your cat. You put your cat
in a hamper. Just for now, Marbles.
We don't know how he feels about cats.
Taking everything, you're cleaning. You're
discovering new rooms in your apartment.
You're like, "How come the water heater
gets its own closet? Fuck it!"
You beg your roommate, you beg
your gross-out roommate, you're like,
"Please, just stay in your room.
You're so fucking disgusting."
She's sitting there, on a throne
of Wendy's wrappers, like, "Okay!
But you text me dick pics."
Hello. Shut the door.
Cleaning. Lighting Glade candles
like it's a fucking Catholic mass.
You're just like,
"Smells like ham in here!"
You're just trying to make it nice.
He opens the door. You're, like, "Hi!"
He walks in. He's, like,
"Oh, place is cool."
You're, like, "Fuck you."
And there's an art, by the way,
to the outfit you wear
the first time a boy comes over
to your place at night, okay?
You don't want to wear...
what you wore during the day.
You don't wanna wear your work clothes.
You don't want to wear
your daytime clothes, 'cause...
'cause it's nighttime.
What if that was the end of my show?
I hit my head.
You don't want to wear your work...
You don't wanna wear
your civilian clothes, okay.
'Cause you had a whole day. Maybe you
sweat in them, they're gross.
However, at the other end
of the sartorial spectrum,
you don't want to go, like, super hardcore
sexy the first time a guy's coming over.
Just wanna relax. You don't wanna
just wear nipple tassels. Now...
some women are, like, "Wait a minute."
I am the woman that has stood here before
and will stand here in front of you again
and let you know
you can wear whatever you want.
It doesn't give a man the right to put
his hands on you, and no always means no.
That's like a boiler-plated granted.
No means no. Kindergarteners get that.
I don't know why we forget that
as adult males, but...
no means no. This is less about that,
and more about just being mentally kind
to the other person.
You show up in just that,
the guy's gonna be, like, "Oh, my god!"
And the blood's gonna go from here
to his dick, he's gonna impale himself,
he's gonna sue you,
and you ain't got no money. So...
just be kind,
because, mentally, it's like,
"Maybe she wants me. I don't know.
Oh, my god." It's frustrating.
You know what it would be like, girls?
It'd be like if you have the worst day,
and you came home
to your boyfriend, and like...
"I had the worst day.
I got fired, and...
I cried in front of everyone
and... I ate that French fry from my car.
It was just such a hard day."
Your boyfriend's like, "Aw, babe.
Come here, come on. You want
to talk about it?" You're, like, "Yeah."
He's like, "Just kidding. Psych."
That's what it would be like.
So the question is,
if I can't wear my work clothes,
and I can't wear nipple tassels,
what's a girl to do?
There's an entire, sort of intermediary,
post-dinner, pre-bedtime
apparel world, okay?
There's a whole category of clothing
that you, as women, have mastered
without even realizing it.
The category is called
athleisure wear.
This is an entire clothing category.
It's a multi-billion-dollar
clothing category
predicated on the idea that, as a woman,
sometimes you don't have time to change
when you're going from the boardroom
to Pilates. There's no fucking way.
You gotta be ready.
Sometimes you're going right from spin
to open-heart surgery,
and you've got to look good.
That's...
Spin to open-heart surgery?
How about my bed to my couch?
Like, what are you fucking talking about?
So what is athleisure wear?
It's, like, athletic apparel
you wouldn't actually work out in.
Right? So it's... yoga pants
with, like, a racing stripe.
You just... race to your snacks.
Sometimes it's like
a complicated tank top.
It's, like, not quite supportive.
They're, like, "It's backless."
Backless? What do you do?
"You don't wear a bra."
I'm sorry, what the fuck did you just say?
I don't wear a bra?
So if the athletic part of athleisure
comes into play, and I have to run,
it's just gonna be...
[thuds] No!
My whole life...
they've been pitching to me,
"It's a tank top,
there's a shelf built in."
It's a... Go fuck your shelf, okay?
I want a bra.
I want a bra!
We do that. Sometimes we'll do, like,
a push-up bra under the tank.
You show the strap off.
Got to be a cute strap. Not beige.
No one goes, "Ooh, beige."
Like magenta.
'Cause that's not as sexy as red.
Magenta's like, "Maybe we'll fuck."
Red's like, "We're gonna fuck!"
Push-up bra.
That's what we do for you, gentlemen.
You have no idea... of the sacrifices.
Push-up bra. Not a woman in here
wears a push-up bra when she's at home
with the flu.
No. No one walking around,
like, "I just like it when mynipples
are near my tongue."
It's just safer that way.
He gets to be comfortable.
You're all bundled up,
you're sitting there in a push-up bra
on your couch,
drinking with this dude
that you're having a date with.
He's got his shoes off,
he's got his shirt off.
You're suffocating under your own tits,
watching House Hunters.
Crown molding.
You're all dressed up, have a nice night.
Maybe sleep together, maybe you don't.
That's not what I'm interested in. What I
want to talk about is the next morning,
when he goes to leave.
What I've always found so endearing
about men...
I find many things endearing about you.
But...
you think... we stay...
that put-together...
once you're gone.
You have no idea.
They have no idea... what lies beneath.
You have no idea... that under the hair,
and the make-up, and the lashes,
and the shelf, and the bras...
for every woman,
lies the beating heart
of a hungry...
exhausted...
annoyed...
she-dragon!
And she is waiting to come out.
She comes out every couple hours.
Like opinions, like sweat, like urine.
Hopefully you pee more than just
every couple hours, still.
She's gotta come out.
You gotta let her out, and she's waiting.
And homeboy is taking forever to leave,
he's, like,
"All right, well, I guess
I'll give you a call later."
And your dragon's, like, "Get out!
Get out. I got to take a shit. Get out!"
[audience laughing]
"Get rid of him. I gotta go in that
bathroom I share with another grown woman
and take a Jurassic thunderdump,
mostly in the bowl,
and then send him a picture
like I'm doing something hot.
Hey. Get out!"
I feel like the boys here
don't believe me.
That breaks my heart. I want you
to trust me, okay?
You don't believe me that there's a dragon
inside every woman.
I will prove it to you. Are you ready?
There's no zipper, okay.
I'll let you prove it to yourselves.
Tomorrow, when you leave your girl,
okay, and you're saying goodbye
at the door...
here's what you want to do.
You wanna look deep in her eyes.
This is great,
because to her she'll be like,
"Oh, my god, he's mesmerized by me.
This is amazing. I'm doing amazing."
Great, let her think that.
It buys you time, gentlemen. Because
what you're looking for in her eyes
is like a... [whoosh]
a nictitating membrane, okay.
For those of you that don't know,
it's the lid under the lid that keeps
the sand out. Okay. [whoosh]
You need more Planet Earth from Netflix
in your lives, okay.
That's what you're looking for.
If you want to see...
the dragon come out on its own,
just prolong your goodbye,
'cause that dragon's coming out.
Nothing you can do about it.
Just take a little longer. Be like,
"All right, well, I have your number,
right? Lemme make sure it's in my phone."
"Okay, great, you have my number. Bye!"
[shrieks, pants]
You're just flying round
your own studio apartment.
You can't go outside.
You will get shot down.
Okay, this isn't fucking King's Landing.
Like, you can't...
you're just doing it for the cardio.
Tiny pulses, ladies.
We're toning, we're firming.
You fly into your kitchen.
You land on your counter.
You're hungry, right?
So you take out a talon.
You skewer an entire sleeve of Oreos.
You toast it.
Your dragon body and your farts
aren't the only thing
you've been holding in all night.
You've also been holding in...
your intentions.
We have this really nasty habit
in our society
of labeling women very cruel
and unfair things
when they express their desire
for very normal things.
Monogamy, exclusivity, a relationship,
a family, babies. Right?
We like to call them desperate,
sad, psychos, baby crazy.
"We've only been married for six years.
She already wants a kid! I'm a fuck man!
They can't get me."
It's very normal to want these things.
And we like to chastise women for this.
And so, as women,
sometimes we don't speak our truth.
So you go on a first date,
and a guy says to you,
"Do you want to have kids?"
And you say no.
Or I don't know.
When you do know.
Because you don't want to what?
Scare them off.
By the way...
if you're the kind of woman that doesn't
want kids, you're still a woman.
This joke's just not about you.
Wait your turn, okay.
Another "by the way."
Gentlemen...
you ask a girl if she wants to have kids,
and she says yes...
it doesn't necessarily mean with you.
And it's interesting...
because your views about relationships
or marriage or children
do change the older you get.
And some girls are in the crowd right now,
you're in your 20s,
you're, like, "Whatever, elder millennial.
Like, I don't care.
I'm 20. I'm going to be a gypsy
and make jewelry out of cat noses.
Yeah. Like, I don't care."
And I get it, and that's totally fair,
'cause I was like that at one point.
And society tells you
the same thing over and over.
They say, "How old are you?"
And you're like, "I'm 23."
Theyr'e like,
"Oh, my god, you have so much time."
And you do.
[in low voice] But not much.
So...
It's not about deciding now,
it's about not writing it off totally.
Because I never thought about it,
that's to God's honest truth.
I wasn't anti or for. I figured
you get a boyfriend, life goes on.
When I was in my 20s,
I loved... I still do... stand-up,
traveling, working.
And I figured, when you turn 30,
the government issues you
like, a house, an okay-looking husband,
a baby, a plant, and you're done!
I never thought about it.
And it's interesting,
because my thought, reaction to children,
and I don't know how many kids I want.
I don't want like a Duggar situation,
but maybe one.
One cool baby. I don't know.
I'd be in the airport in my 20s
and I'd hear a baby cry.
And all the women around me would be,
like, "Oh, my god, it's a child."
I'd be, "Oh, my god, don't sit by me."
Like, that's all. "Get it away."
And it's interesting,
'cause I never thought about it.
It changes slightly, the chemistry,
the way you think about it.
I was in the airport the other day.
And there was a baby there.
And the baby made a big mistake.
'Cause that baby...
let a chubby baby leg...
hang from his blankie.
I had to squeeze it.
I was, like, "What is this feel..."
I found myself, like, moving
toward the mother.
And I knew... intrinsically, I knew...
she would let me squeeze his leg.
Because women don't fear other women.
When it comes to children, not like
the corporate ladder or like dating
or anything like that, but...
she knows I'm not creepy
and I mean that baby no harm.
That's something
that we can trade on as women.
Women aren't scary.
When you're walking down a street
late at night,
and a woman's walking toward you,
you don't cross to the other side
of the street.
I mean, you do if she's, like,
"Purple hippo!" But, like...
When you're in an elevator
and a woman gets on,
you don't ever clutch your purse
and back up a little bit.
Women aren't scary
and women aren't creepy.
That's an important thing to remember.
That no matter what we get faulted for,
and we will get faulted for a lot,
things like aging, right,
things you can totally control.
No matter how much weight you gain,
no matter how many wrinkles you get,
no matter how opinionated you are,
no matter what you become as a woman,
women are always welcome
around public parks
and children's birthday parties.
Always. I could go to
an elementary school right now
in a hospital gown,
with a raccoon on a leash...
and the children would be, like,
"You have a weird dog."
Because of that inherent fact
that women are not creepy.
Men.
All you've got to do
is, like, part your hair wrong.
So I get up near this baby,
I wipe the sweat from my brow,
I calm myself and I say to the woman,
"Excuse me, hi.
[inhales]
I need to squeeze your baby's leg."
And she was, like,
"Absolutely! Get in there! Get in there!
His name is Charlie." She gave mehis
blood type, his social security number...
There's an art to squeezing a baby leg.
You're not actually squeezing.
You're actually taking
your pincer fingers,
and you're putting it like this,
and you're lightly oscillating...
allowing the fat to rapidly undulate...
so fast it looks like a fluid motion,
not unlike the flapping
of a hummingbird's wings, okay.
This is how I give a hand job.
[trills] Baby leg!
[ululates]
Any pressure you would apply
to said leg, you then divert up
to your back molar,
and you grind it.
When you feel enamel starting
to break down, that's how you know
you gotta get out of there, okay.
You know you're at maximum capacity
for cuteness
when you start making
thinly veiled threats to the child.
I'm going to eat that leg.
I'm gonna bite that nose!
And the mom was into it!
She was, like, "Eat his fucking leg!"
I'm gonna eat that leg. "Bite his fucking
nose!" I'm gonna eat that nose!
Everyone's into it, except the kid
was being the adult. He's, like,
"What the fuck is this?"
Baby leg.
So... back to our original narrative.
You're a dragon in your kitchen.
And those maternal...
We don't have to restrict it
to just women.
Paternal, parental. Those maternal urges
start to bubble up.
Because they're unrealized. You did not
verbalize last night on your date
that you might, one day, possibly,
with the right person, want kids.
So 's bubbling up, you're sitting there,
eating your Oreos, and you're like...
Baby.
I want a child.
Family.
Baby.
Who's the baby?
And you look over and who do 100%
of us take out our parental urges on?
Our pets.
Who's the baby?
And your dog is sitting there, like,
"Oh, fuck, it's me!"
And you scoop him up,
you don't give him a chance to run.
You sweep all four legs,
Daniel-san, just...
And you throw him on his back!
The dog's, like, "This is not natural!"
And then you start to rock it.
Now you're a psychopath.
Who's the baby? And the dog's, like,
"Please, I'm nauseous!"
You're an angel. Who wants kisses,
who wants kisses?
The dog doesn't know they're kisses.
All the dog sees are your canine incisors
coming at his face.
This tooth right here
is what lets him know
that you're a fucking carnivore, right?
Human beings don't get this close
to other human beings' faces
unless it's like a UFC weigh-in, like,
"I'm gonna eat you, motherfucker!"
That's exactly...
Who's the baby?
The dog's, like, "Please put me down!"
Who wants belly kisses?
Who wants belly kisses?
"Please don't bite my dick!"
It doesn't even occur to you
that he might be terrified.
You're, like, "Oh, he loves his mama."
He loves... He loves you?
Next time, notice the Cirque du Soleil
backbreaking stunt your dog
is willing to pull...
to get away from your love. He's, like,
"I died well!"
Dog looks up at you.
Closes his blouse.
Goes and hides under something
he deems impenetrable,
like a kitchen chair, like...
"Yes, from behind these four legs,
I will lead the war."
What's really fucked-up...
is that ten minutes later...
the dog has forgotten.
He's forgotten the broad strokes...
of the abuse. Here's what he knows.
He knows something bad... happened.
He knows...
something bad will happen again.
And again, and again.
He also knows... that he loves you.
But he's conflicted.
Because he knows
that the person he loves...
is the one who's going to make
the bad thing happen.
It's like Stockholm syndrome
meets Groundhog Day.
Here's what's even more fucked-up.
Ten minutes later...
you need another hit.
You're just coming down off your high,
and you're like, "All right, I gotta go to
the grocery store. I've got a callback..."
Who's the baby?
And this time he doesn't remember.
He's, like, "I don't know!
I don't know. Why don't I remember?"
And you're getting closer. Who's the baby?
"I don't know."
And the dog's having
very blurry flashbacks of, like,
teeth, and kisses, and belly rubs.
It's like Westworld for dogs. Just like...
Who's the baby?
And the dog's like,
"I don't know! Leave me alone!"
Who's the baby?
The dog's like,
"I don't know! I don't know who the..."
And he looks down at his arm
and there's a tattoothat just says...
"You're the baby."
You're the baby.
So, I'm getting married.
One of the lovely things
about the man that I'm marrying is that
he has never asked me to change
anything about myself.
This is a very weird job.
We're on a ship,
and I'm telling jokes.
Like, those things don't go together.
He's always been
very respectful of my job,
he's never asked
that I not go on the road,
that I not go to work,
that I not take a gig.
The only thing he's ever asked
that I not do
was a couple of weeks ago,
we were getting ready for bed,
and I came out, dressed,
and he looked at me and he went,
"Babe.
Love you.
Can you not wear men's basketball shorts
to bed?"
And I was, like,
"Interesting request. Proceed."
He goes, "Uh...
Love you. Think you're beautiful.
It's just that...
I'm not as attracted to you
and I don't really want
to have sex with you...
when you're in men's basketball shorts."
And I was, like, "Oh...
that's the idea!
Thanks for the ring, fucker!"
He's sitting in the back, he's like,
"We fuck. I mean..."
My dad's also here
so that was a weird take, so...
So a big part of getting married,
I found out, is you have to buy
a wedding dress.
And this is just one more milestone
in our lives as women
where other women don't clue us in
on how terrible it actually is.
We all say that we're girls' girls
and feminists, but none of us,
like, give the truth
about girl things.
We act like it's all sugar and spice
and effortless, I keep my cereals
in canisters like a psychopath,
I'm doing it, yoga. Okay.
Everything, every big thing in
a woman's life.
Oh, you had your period?
Welcome to being a woman.
There's no homegirl that's like,
"Come here. You're gonna wanna
rip out your ovaries,
and you're gonna hate your body,
and you're gonna cry.
And you're gonna want a lot of chocolate.
And you're gonna wanna...
Probably not even go to school.
Your skin's gonna break out. Welcome
to womanhood. Get in the game."
They don't say that, okay?
Oh, you're having a baby?
Oh, it's so beautiful.
"Come here. You're gonna shit yourself.
And then society's gonna judge you
'cause you didn't get your body back
like that, okay?"
"You're getting a wedding dress?
Oh, it's so magical.
So magical. You show up.
It's so magical. You show up.
Your mother is there.
She doesn't tell you you look tired.
You've lost so much weight,
every dress just cascades off of you.
And a modeling coach walks by
and is like, 'She's too beautiful
for the runway.'
You can't... You stand there.
Your best friends are there, and they...
And none of them are jealous.
And a dove brings you
the perfect silken... and it just..."
No. What it is is you standing there
at a dress shop in West Hollywood
with your mom on FaceTime asking you
how FaceTime works.
You're just like, "Just use the button!
Ask somebody near you!"
And there's just some Russian seamstress
at the bottom, like,
[in Russian accent]
"Your hips are too wide for this cut.
You should not try it on."
And then you go eat Chick-fil-A.
Like, that's buying a wedding dress.
So, I was trying on wedding dresses,
and I figured
I should go with a big princess dress,
because that's the chance to wear it,
so I put it on, and I come out...
and I realize that
if that's the kind of dress you wear,
like, if you extrapolate
your wedding dress from the actual day...
you're dressed like a lunatic.
For, like, deeply disturbing
psychological reasons.
You're, like, "I'm a pretty princess.
I'm a pr... "No, you're Gaby,
and you work in HR. You are not a pr...
"No, I'm a pretty princess."
And all of your maids
have to agree with you.
They're like, "Yes, fairest of them all."
"I'm a pr... I'm a ballerina princess!
'Cause I've got Arena shoes.
'Cause I'm Daddy's ballerina.
I'm a pretty princess.
Bring me Snow White's heart on a platter."
So I was trying all different kinds
of dresses, and there's this weird
phenomenon with women,
when you try on more than three articles
of clothing.
There is no fourth. You just start crying.
There's something about incandescent
lighting hitting your fat cells
that actually makes them multiply
on the spot.
And then you start to get angry.
Do you ever do this move
where you hit your fat, hoping to pop it?
It doesn't pop. It just leaves a bruise,
then you can't wear shorts. Okay, so...
I started to get upset
and I did the mistake that all women do.
I started to get angry about something
on my body I couldn't control.
Every girl's got a thing
that she hates about herself
that's impossible to change.
For me, I don't like how tall I am.
That makes it sound like I'm tall.
I wish I were taller.
So tall. To you, you're like,
"Oh, she's so tall."
'Cause I'm this big on your TV,
and there's a stage.
But I am 5'5".
And it kills me.
It kills me 'cause it's not short enough
that it's like, "Oh, my god, do you shop
at Gap Kids? You're so petite!"
No.
And it's not tall enough that
people assume I'm a natural athlete.
I'm just this average...
5'5"...
member of the proletariat
marching to pick a size 7 shoe.
Like, it's just... [retches]
Anytime you tell another woman
what you don't like about yourself,
they never let you say it.
No, don't say it.
Oh, I'd kill to have your hair.
I would kill to have your beak,
I love your feathers. It's like...
So, I'm sitting there, getting ready
to pick out a dress for a wedding,
for my wedding,
and I was angry.
And that's not an emotion that you want
to attach... to your wedding.
And I started to feel sad,
and I dunno about you, but for me,
when I get upset about something,
I attach it to literally everything else
in my life.
And it spirals.
It's never the one...
It's not about the dress,
it's about how I feel about the dress,
it's how I feel about me, maybe I can't
get married, I'll just marry my dog,
we'll live in the woods!
Like, it just goes, like that.
And I started to get
real angry about my body
'cause it wasn't fitting perfectly
into the right dress that I wanted
at the right time.
And I stopped and I was, like,
"If I'm feeling this way right now,
then there's gotta be other women
who feel this way."
And so I'm going to say this
'cause I wish that I'd given myself
this pep talk that day.
Here's the truth.
Girls, your bodies are perfect...
and normal...
and functional... and beautiful.
There's always one girl in back
with a horn. Like, "What about me?"
No.
Not you!
Shave it.
Quit following me.
But we've been brainwashed into trying
to live up to this Instagram Photoshop
example of what beauty is.
And you know what,
some girls do look like that. Fuck them.
No, some girls do look like that.
There's always gonna be
something you don't like.
We have to stop faulting ourselves
for things that are very normal.
Right? "I've got cellulite.
What if he doesn't
want to have sex with me
'cause I got cellulite?"
Well, 100% of women
have some form of cellulite.
So if he doesn't want to fuck you
'cause you got cellulite,
he'd better start fucking dudes, 'cause...
there's no other option till the robots
take over.
Moreover, he doesn't want
to have that conversation.
A guy doesn't find it attractive
when you verbalize over and over
how much you hate something.
"But my cellulite? You didn't see it?
I showed it to you."
Look at that. I'll make a face out of it."
He doesn't...
The conversation he wants to have
is the following.
"Let me ask you a question.
Are you going to continue to breathe
during intercourse?"
You're, like, "Yeah, I was planning
on it."
He's, like, "Then we're cool.
That holds up in court...
I found out."
But I've got this, and chub,
and I don't like my arms.
And I have stretch marks,
from growing from an infant!
And you know what, I don't want to be,
this, like, hand-holding, like,
"Every woman is perfect."
Look, you might not be perfect, okay.
I'm not here to judge that,
if you're not, if you are.
What I am here to say
is it's up to you to decide
how much you love your body.
Fuck everybody else.
Don't fuck them because...
Not literally. But...
if it makes you feel good!
It probably won't.
It's up for you to decide, because
we get so upset, and you know what?
The guy that you like probably isn't even
going to notice the thing that you hate.
Most people won't.
Men won't.
Most of the things
you don't like about your body,
a guy is not going to notice.
They're not that observant, okay?
40% of men
can only see, like, three colors.
Like, 40% of the men in here
don't know that that's red.
Notice it's a hollow laugh.
40% of the men are like,
"Hah! Oh, fuck.
Siri, what is red?"
And, again, you might have a perfect body.
You might not have a great body.
I don't know what you got going on
under that tarp, okay?
You could have... blown out the whole
region with a bad wax strip, I don't know.
But I do know is this.
Whatever you have as a woman,
whatever your body looks like, girls...
However bad you think it is
pales in comparison to the look
of 100% of...
scrotums!
What is that?
What the fuck is that?
Why is this not the topic
of every State of the Union address?
Why is this... how come...
My thighs can't touch,
but you have two dead baby birds,
hanging.
Sir, bat-like. Hanging.
Sometimes so low,
they're in the toilet water.
Hanging.
Notice every guy here
is either laughing, smiling,
or, like, not making eye contact with me.
Because it's never occurred to men
to question their bodies.
Every guy in here is like,
"Why wouldn't you want this
on your face for free?" Like, they don't...
If we are to move forward as women,
as feminists,
we need to decide that we won't be shamed
for what our bodies look like naturally
either, okay?
And just so you know, gentlemen.
It's something that we tolerate.
But it's not something
that we fantasize about.
It's just the way it is,
so we never really question it.
But no woman in here
growing up was, like,
"This is my Backstreet Boys poster.
This is NSYNC.
And this is a nut sack!" Like, none of us!
It's hideous and, I'll tell yousomething
else, it's a little traumatizing.
'Cause we put effort
into the way that we look.
And we're sitting there in bed,
waiting for you to come out,
just like you have every night,
and you come out of the bathroom naked.
And you look at us, and we look at you.
We're like, "Oh, god, there it is."
Who's the baby?
Thank you so much for coming out tonight
to have a good time. Thank you.
[upbeat dance music plays]
I can't be stopped no more
Finding what I came for
I can't be stopped no more
I can't be stopped no more
Finding what I came for