Funny Women of a Certain Age (2019) Movie Script

I'm very honored
to be invited to this.
It's a show with
all female comics.
How often have I been
the only woman on a comedy show?
Always.
I created
"Women of a Certain Age Comedy"
so people could see
funny women.
And these five?
Wow.
Just wow.

I have loved Fran Drescher
since "The Nanny."
She is my generation's Lucy.
Oh, thank you!
Hello, Brooklyn!
Oh, I'll tell ya.
I was so excited when
Showtime invited me to be part
of this special with all these
great standup comics.
Till I realized it was called
"Women of a Certain Age."
So I guess that means
I am one.
Well, I don't see myself
as a woman of a certain age.
But then again, I don't see my
ass in broad daylight, either.
And I did turn 60...
Stop. I'm not doing
the birthdays anymore.
When you consider a 50 year old
a younger man...
...what's to celebrate?
And I'm done with
the birthday presents, too.
I mean, okay, granted;
I know that I'm difficult
to shop for.
But somebody actually gave me
a baby elephant.
A real one.
An orphan in Africa,
at a rescue.
I mean, they send me
updates and pictures
of this little girl Shoo-Shoo.
And I gotta tell ya,
it's given me nothing
but stress.
I'm very worried
about her.
Is she eating?
Does she have elephant friends?
Do the other elephants
even like her?
Who needed this?
If I wanted a baby elephant,
I would have had one
in my 20s.
Then another friend...
"friend..."
gives me a gift certificate--
are you ready for this--
at a bathing suit store.
Really?
What kind of a
passive-aggressive gesture
is that?
"Here's your gift,
and you're stuck."
I did not wear a bathing suit
through my entire
second marriage.
She would have been better off
buying me a burqa.
But I had the gift certificate,
so I decided to go
to the store-- begrudgingly.
37 excruciating minutes later,
in the dressing room,
I amazingly find something
that was kind of cute.
Palazzo pants.
And it was my gay ex-husband
Peter who picked them out.
Yeah, I got a gay ex-husband.
Do you? No?
It's good.
It's good.
People always say to me,
"How did you not know?"
We were having a lot of sex.
How the hell did I know
he was fantasizing about
the waiter at Olive Garden?
I think the thing is, though,
I have no "gaydar."
Because, honestly,
the handwriting
was on the wall.
Shortly after we were married,
we both agreed
to give each other
one free pass,
should the, you know,
celebrity of our dreams
want to have sex with us.
He picked Cher.
And I picked... Bruce Jenner.
Peter had opinions about
my hair, my makeup, my clothes.
He especially liked me
in very high heels.
Which later I found out
is a phallic symbol.
So now he's gay
and I got bunions.
When we were doing
"The Nanny,"
everybody said that
I was a gay icon.
But when Peter came out,
that's when I was elevated
to Judy Garland status.
Needless to say,
we split up
but are happily divorced.
So there I was, single,
ready to mingle,
and as fate would have it,
I get diagnosed
with cancer.
Can you believe it took me
two years and eight doctors
to get a proper diagnosis
with uterine cancer?
I got in the stirrups
more times than Django.
And every doctor had a different
solution for my symptoms.
Leg pain? Oh, drink gin
and tonics before going to bed.
Stool change?
Stop eating so much spinach.
Hard breasts?
You got the tits
of an 18 year old.
Which I do,
by the way.
But there I was with perky
breasts, in need of roughage,
going to bed sloshed
in some vain attempt
to cure myself.
Doctor number eight said,
"You need
an endometrial biopsy,"
but doctor number one said
I was too young for that.
And I didn't ask
what it was for,
'cause I was just thrilled
to be too young for anything.
Three days later,
they said I had cancer
and I needed a hysterectomy.
Oh, my God!
I can't even tell you.
When I came home
from the hospital,
I was so depressed and so weak.
I remember looking at myself
in front of the mirror, naked,
at my misshapen, swollen,
black and blue abdomen
wondering, "Who is this woman
in the reflection?"
I had always been
everyone else's caregiver.
I was the shctarka,
I was the super woman.
Well, just so happens,
on that day,
Cousin Susan
was coming for lunch.
Mom prepared a beautiful spread
and we all sat around
the dining room table to eat.
Susan was talking
a mile a minute,
and suddenly she starts
choking on her food.
Well, I immediately
jumped on my feet,
got behind her and started doing
the Heimlich Maneuver.
My dad, who rarely
comes up for air
when there's food
placed in front of him...
...suddenly said,
"She's choking!"
And my mom, in a voice
not unlike my own,
says, "Don't rip your stitches."
Every time I did the maneuver,
Cousin Susan's glass
of white wine--
which she still
had in her hand--
went splashing across the room.
When suddenly, miraculously,
this tiny piece
of regurgitated poultry
pops out of her mouth
and lands
on the floor.
Well, we all gathered around
to look at it.
Mom bent down
with a big white napkin
and picked it up and said,
"It's not even
that big."
And Cousin Susan--
still gasping for breath--
said, "Fran, you saved my life!"
And I really did
save her life.
But in an unexpected way,
on that day,
Cousin Susan saved mine.
Because that was the moment
I was beginning to feel
like my old self again.
Fast forward--
I'm a survivor.
I founded... Thank you.
I founded CancerSchmancer.org,
I'm middle-aged, I'm single,
and I'm ready to date again.
I find myself in bed
with a younger guy.
Out of the blue
the dude says to me,
"When did you quit smoking?"
And I'm thinking,
that's a funny thing to say.
Then it occurs to me.
He's looking at
my estrogen patch,
and thinking it's for nicotine.
Now I'm wondering
what's more of a turn-off?
Smoking or menopause?
So I say to him,
"It's only been three months,
and it's very hard."
We had great sex,
then he jumped on a skateboard
and I never saw him again.
Oh, I'll tell ya,
this whole aging thing
is for the birds.
Yesterday, I could not remember
the word "asparagus."
Now, when I couldn't remember
a word when I was in my 40s,
I would joke about it
and say,
"Oh! I'm having
a senior moment."
Now it's no joke.
And that's not the worst of it.
All of a sudden
my rings don't fit.
My shoes are tight.
So my girlfriend says to me,
"Oh, well, you know,
parts of your body
keep growing as you get older."
Wait a minute, what?
"Yeah, didn't you know?
"Your hands, your feet,
"your nose,
your ears.
they all keep getting bigger
as you age."
That's sexy.
'Cause, you know,
there's a million guys out there
wanting to sleep with a hobbit.
Oh, I could kill Peter
for turning gay.
Meanwhile, neither of us
have anyone.
Watch. We'll end up
back together,
and should we ever
wanna have sex,
we only have to hire one guy.
Thank you.
Thank you so much.
You've been a great audience.
Mwah! Mwah! Mwah!
Good night!

Carol Montgomery
is a boss in my book,
'cause she's been around
as long as I have.
I'm not a woman in comedy,
I'm a human being
in comedy.
I never realized
I was a woman
until I walked into
a comedy club to audition,
and all the male comics were
just looking at me like,
"Well, who's this?"
You know what?
I don't have to prove to you
how big my dick is.
It's bigger than all of yours.

I'm back, Brooklyn.
I, uh, I recently turned 60
a few months ago, and--
thank you,
thank you very much.
Uh, and I know the young women
who are in the crowd,
they're looking like,
"Wow, you look
so good for your age.
What's the skin regimen,
you know?"
Semen.
Yes. As much as you can.
See, every guy
with a date right now
just looked at the woman
and went,
"I told you."
But I gotta tell you--
So in show business,
you're not supposed
to talk about your age.
But you know what?
Fuck that.
I'm talking about my age.
You know why?
Thank you.
Thank you.
'Cause this is 60, people!
This is what a 60 year old woman
looks like, okay?
This is my real face.
These are my real tits.
I am wearing shape wear, though,
'cause I have a muffin top.
And I don't wanna kill
the 12-year-old
that's right here
in the front row.
But you know, I remember
when a woman turned 60
when I was younger,
that was when maybe they got
a little nip and tuck.
Right? Right?
Now, women are doing this
in their 30s.
Isn't that fucked up?
Yes.
And you know what it is?
It's this celebrity-driven
culture that we live in.
In fact, I blame the biggest
celebrity of all time
for this shit.
I blame Madonna.
She's had work done, people.
Yeah.
She's my age
and she's Italian.
She should have a full
fucking beard by now.
Please.
So I know it's a mixed crowd.
I wanna see-- so where
are my people?
50 and up.
Clap if you're 50 and up.
Yes, okay, good.
Nice, nice.
Where are the 30s and 40s?
Where are the 20s?
Shut the fuck up.
You notice something?
There's more older people
than them.
I say we kill them
and drink their blood.
How old are you,
young lady?
God bless you.
I have bras older than you,
you little bitch.
But it's okay.
You're adorable.
You're adorable.
Can I give you advice, though?
Okay. Um, if you think your
parents fucked you up mentally,
wait till genetics
come into play.
See, I look good
on the outside.
My insides are falling to shit.
My insides look like the end
of "Avengers: Infinity War."
All dust.
And really,
what I mean by that is--
Okay, so all the women know what
the Kegel muscle is, correct?
Okay, right.
Yeah, you're all squeezing it
right now, aren't you?
The Kegel muscle is the muscles
of the pelvic wall.
They keep everything up.
And when you have a child,
they tell you to do your Kegels,
which I did all those years ago.
He didn't tell me I had to
do them the rest of my life.
You know what happens
when you turns 60
and you don't do your Kegels?
Um, things start to fall out
of your fucking vagina.
I found a watch
and and old map of LA.
And a beta tape
of "Miami Vice."
I don't know
what that was doing up there.
I just don't know really why...
So beautiful.
So jealous.
So perky, you're moist.
Gone.
Like the Sahara Desert
down there, people.
Tumbleweeds go by my pussy.
Um...
It looks like
a spaghetti western, so...
But that's not the worst part
of aging.
Here's the worst part.
Every time I sneeze, I pee.
That's the only time I get wet,
is when I'm sneezing
on myself.
My husband wants to get me
in the mood,
he throws pepper in my face.
Enjoy 22.
But here's the deal, okay.
It sucks when men get--
when they get older, too.
Right, sir?
Have your balls
fall again?
You know they fall twice, right?
They fall when they're 13.
Bing! Adorable!
But they fall again
at 50.
It's like, "padoom!"
So the day my husband
turns 50,
I hear him in the bathroom
and he's yelling for me,
"Carol!
Something's tugging
from behind!"
I walked in,
I'm like, "Honey,
you are Swiffering
the bathroom floor
with your nuts."
So you gotta picture this.
So his balls are down here.
My tits are down there.
When we fuck,
you can poke an eye out.
One time we killed the dog.
In the neighbor's yard.
And just for the young people:
old people fuck,
so get over it, okay?
Right, old people?
Are we still having sex?
Some of you
can't raise your hand
'cause you're so tired.
I get it.
All right.
The difference between, like,
young people sex
and old people sex is that
young people have stamina,
so you can go for hours,
four or five hours.
Not old people.
Four or five minutes,
we're done.
You do ten minutes,
you could die.
You do 20 and it's humid,
it's like, "I have a cramp!
I have a cramp!"
"I need a banana."
"Not your penis.
I need a real fucking banana,
asshole.
A real one."
You can't even use oils.
You can slip off the bed
and break a fucking hip.
You can't do that shit.
Because you just look better
when you're young.
So when young people
are having sex,
they glisten, you know?
Rainbows shoot out of their ass.
Well, Skittles,
'cause they're young, but...
But when old people have sex,
um, it's ugly.
Let's just be honest, okay?
You're sweating
and the makeup is running
and the pussy farts
are happening.
That's always embarrassing,
isn't it?
It's always
right before you cum.
You're like, "Oh, baby..."
"What was that?"
Then the penis falls out.
You have to put it back in.
Right? We do.
This is all stuff
you're learning, honey.
You're learning.
We have to put it back in.
Can't let the fucking men
put it back in.
'Cause they're delirious
while they're fucking.
They don't know
what the hell's going on.
Their dick falls out,
they're like, "Ahh!
It's cold out!
Put it in somewhere!"
Don't let him put it back--
No matter what he says,
do not do it.
And guys, we will fall
for that shit once.
You know what I'm talking about,
'cause it falls out
and the guys goes,
"Let me do it."
And you're like,
"All right, honey.
Wrong one.
Wrong one!"
Now, I gotta tell ya.
I've been married
for almost 40 years,
and every anniversary
my husband goes,
"Hey, baby, some tequila?"
What part of "Fucking no"
did you not get there?
It is never happening to me.
The day my husband
gets to do that to me
is they day I get to
strap one on and give it
right back to him.
That's what I say.
Say my name, bitch.
Let me pull your hair.
Whooo!
Yeah!
See?
The women love that joke, right?
Every man's asshole
just went "tkkkt!"
I gotta tell you,
the best thing about aging,
I have to say about
being 60 now,
is I don't have to worry about
getting pregnant anymore.
'Cause, like I mentioned
there's dust,
nothing there.
I was so paranoid
when I was young
'cause I didn't wanna
get pregnant,
so I was choosing the diaphragm,
I was on the pill,
I wrapped my husband's dick
in a fucking Hefty bag.
I mean, whatever I had to do.
And I used to use
the diaphragm--
and this is where
I really age myself,
'cause the older women know
what the diaphragm is, correct?
Yeah? Yeah.
Yeah, the young women are like,
"Is that like
a Blackberry?"
"Are there apps
on the diaphragm?"
"Can I get to Facebook
on the diaphragm?"
"Nope. Just MySpace."
For the young people
that don't know what
the diaphragm is,
it's a round rubber device that
the woman puts inside of her.
It acts like a force field
for sperm,
if there's any, uh,
Trekkies in the room.
Yeah, who am I kidding?
Trekkies don't get laid.
Okay, stop.
So anyway.
But it's very big,
and the place you need
to put it in is very small.
So to get it inside ya,
ya kinda have to know origami.
So follow me.
You got one leg on the tub,
try to do the origami.
By the time you actually
get it inside ya,
you don't have to fuck anymore.
You've been playing with
yourself for 40 minutes.
You literally walk
out of the bathroom going,
"I'm good, honey.
I'm going to bed."
"Magazines are under
the counter. I love you ."
No one uses
the diaphragm anymore.
I think they should retire
the diaphragm;
put it somewhere nice,
like the Smithsonian. Right?
Next time you're in DC,
you're walking through
the Smithsonian.
"Look at the ancient
feminist artifact."
"Oh, look!
Right next to the hairy vagina."
I'm not even gonna
fucking ask you.
I don't know if the older women
know what's going on
with the younger women,
but all the younger women
are shaving their shit.
Okay? Who's doing that?
Waxing.
Wax-- Look at her.
"We're waxing."
"We don't shave.
How bourgeoisie."
I-- My husband, years ago,
wanted me to shave it
into a little heart.
And I was like, "Tie your dick
into a square knot first."
So after it grew back...
Of course I did it.
I spent the entire week going,
"This is so fucking stupid."
I didn't mean to touch myself
in front of you, honey.
I'm so sorry, I...
Send me the therapy bill.
So anyway.
But I asked this young lady,
I said to her, I said,
"I wanna know.
It's now a putdown.
I just wanna know why
you do that."
And, uh, she says,
"It's prettier,
and it's cleaner,
to do it that way ."
I said, "I understand, 'cause
you're, like, 23 years old."
If I did it
as a 60-year-old woman,
um, it would look like
a really sad basset hound.
Thank you very much.
Thank you so much.
You've been amazing.
Thank you.

Vanessa's my heart.
The hardest working comedian
I know.
Back in the day,
I would always have clothes
that I would get tired of,
and Vanessa would call me
and say,
"I like the shirt
you wore tonight.
If you're tired of it,
let me know."
Thank you.
Thank you.
Oh, my God.
Oh, you guys look awesome.
It's so great to be in Brooklyn.
Everyone's looking good.
Looking hot.
I live in Chelsea.
I live in the safest area
of New York, if you're a woman,
because everyone is gay.
I could be drunk and naked,
someone would find me
and be like,
"Oh, my God!
"We've gotta get you home,
and you need
to do crunches."
And the trans
are looking really hot.
I gotta look more trans,
you know?
And it's confusing.
You've got transgender,
trans liquid, trans neutral,
trans marginal, trans fat.
I'm starting
to become translucent.
I'm blending into the gayness.
This is the hardest thing
I've held in my hands
in months, people, okay?
Just work with me.
It's been a while.
And I'm looking at you guys,
you're looking good.
I'm from--
this is the Brooklyn hipster--
the big, long beard,
I'm done.
Can we stop this, please?
Every guy in Brooklyn looks like
a Viking on a bicycle.
Really!
Do I look like I wanna date
an apostle?
Like, when did looking
like a Biblical figure
become a hot look, right?
Every time I go to
a restaurant in Brooklyn,
I feel like I crashed
the Last Supper.
My ex-boyfriend,
he grew his hair and his beard.
I'm on my way to meet him
and his friends in a restaurant.
They're breaking the bread,
they're drinking the wine,
everything starts to go
in slow motion.
I'm like, did I die?
Am I having
an out of body experience?
And I'm hearing him say,
"You're free, and I'm Jesus."
But what he was really saying
was, "I'm gonna get shitfaced.
Here's the keys to the Prius."
And I'm understanding with
the big, long beards.
You know, it might be
religious reasons.
Maybe you went to India
to go find yourself;
let go of ego,
let go of your looks.
Maybe you escaped
an insane asylum.
But this long thing?
I mean, ladies, we don't grow
our armpit hair out, do we?
Huh? What about
our pubic hair?
We got those hanging out?
We'd be a sight
at the beach.
Be like, "Hey, come over here
you Moses-looking love god.
I want you
to come part the seas."
"And if you're good,
I'll show you my burning bush."
And I asked my ex,
I'm like,
"Why is your beard this long?"
And it had, like,
egg in it.
And a chess piece.
And he goes, uh,
"I get lazy."
I'm like, "Lazy?"
I'm like,
"Do you know what I do
to look good for you?
Do you know what women do
to look beautiful for men?"
Do you know what we do?
We wax, we tweeze, we pluck,
we take Juvederm,
we take Botox,
we take Reslin.
We shoot it into our lips...
We bleach our hair,
we bleach our skin,
we bleach our anus.
Anyone hear of this
anal bleaching?
I don't even know the last time
I looked at my own vagina,
but let me add this of my list
of crap to do
to look beautiful for you.
We starve ourselves to death
so we can have that thigh gap,
and be a double zero.
And then we get the fat-- we get
it sucked out of our stomach,
our thighs and our back.
We get it stuck into our ass.
We get nose jobs,
breast jobs,
full body jobs,
eye lifts,
brow lifts.
We hold down three jobs,
and we'll throw in a blowjob
just to pay for this stuff.
And you can't pick up
a weed whacker
and hack a little bit
of your beard off?
Just, uh...
Just saying, I don't like
the really long beards.
You know...
Yours is perfect.
You're good.
He's well trained.
And you know,
when you get older,
they always jack up the price
of face cream.
I went to this one store,
they had the face cream
that rhymes with, like, "fairy."
Okay, figure it out.
It was $800
a jar.
I said to the woman, I'm like,
"What's in this stuff? "
She goes...
"It's very secret ingredient
from the Dead Sea."
I'm like, "What is it,
the actual Dead Sea Scrolls?"
What, did you suck the collagen
out of a toddler's ass?
Is it Marilyn Monroe's,
you know, cremated ashes?
Is it unicorn horns?
For $800,
I could pay a guy to say,
"You look 18."
There'd be money left for shoes,
nice dinner.
You know what I say?
I don't buy into any of this.
I say get any kind
of face cream you want,
take the cream,
put it directly in your eyes...
It causes temporary blindness.
You can't see the lines.
You know?
It's like a miracle blur.
And I'm horrible
with technology.
I'm telling you,
I wish I woulda had kids.
But I hate children.
That's not really true.
You know what?
I'm actually in the process
of adopting an Indian kid
so I can figure out
how to work my cell phone.
Really.
I will take Vishnu and Krishna
as my God
if you can bring me
into the 21st century.
I actually locked myself
out of my own phone
with that cell phone
thumb recognition, right?
I had to bribe a seven-year-old
in a school yard.
I'm like, "Listen, I'll give you
20 bucks and a juice box.
You can unlock me."
Takes him five seconds.
He hands the phone back to me.
He goes,
"It's not a toy."
And I feel sorry
for young people,
'cause I feel like the whole
world has gotten greedy, right?
When I was a kid,
I was taught to share.
I would teach, like, greed
to kindergarten kids
to prepare them
for this brave new world.
Anyone scared about the world?
Right?
I'd be like, "Hey, kids,
we're gonna pay a fun game.
It's called Duck or Get Ducked,
With an F."
"Now, Johnny, you have
two Fruit Rollups. Why?"
"Well, my mom says
I should share."
"Well, your mom is stupid.
"I want you to hold on to those
Fruit Rollups,
and I want you to steal
all of Sally's cookies."
"But that's mean."
"No, Johnny, that's America."
"And, Sally,
I want you to stop crying
"'cause I want you to go into
Timmy's book bag
"and take some of his Adderall.
Not all of it,
'cause he needs to focus."
"But enough to kill
your appetite.
"Wash it down
with a chocolate milk,
"and sell the remainder of pills
to Donna
when you call her
a lazy, fat pig."
"But Donna's my best friend."
"No, kids; cold, hard cash
his your best friend.
"You got that?
With a C.
"Cold, hard cash.
"Now, I want you to learn
all these skills,
"otherwise you're gonna wind up
with a student loan debt
"that you're never
gonna be able to pay;
"with some useless
college degrees
"that you're never
gonna be able to use;
"working at some electronics
sweat shop;
"living on your parents' couch;
"addicted to marijuana brownies
and video games;
waiting to die."
Just want to...
I just want to throw it out,
I'm available
for children's parties.
And teachers, they gotta start
getting paid better.
I'm telling you.
I'm telling you, right?
I loved my teachers.
I loved
my teachers.
If I didn't sleep with
my philosophy teacher,
I never would have graduated.
I had to take a D to get an A,
all right?
That was before
the Me Too movement.
Now I'm the woman you see
before you.
And you guys, man,
I feel bad,
but you don't know how
to compliment a woman.
It's like you don't know.
It's like, "Am I gonna
get arrested?
Am I gonna get laid?"
"What are you in for?"
"I told her she had nice shoes,
she said she didn't feel safe."
"Well, did you know her?"
"Yeah, she's my fiance."
I'm in between husbands,
I wanna-- okay, so.
So anyway, my last boyfriend
was German.
I like the foreign guys.
And you know how beautiful
and romantic that language is.
We're newly together,
in the height of passion,
we're making love
and he's really getting into it.
He's like, "Ja! Ja!"
I felt like I was with
the Terminator.
It's like...
"I will intercourse you
to death,
"and then I will be back to
make you cry like a girly man.
Ja! Ja!"
Now, my friends loved him
'cause he was so industrious,
'cause he was German.
He was like, "I noticed
your friend's son
"does not have a swing set.
"Ja, ja. So what I did was take
all the aluminum
"from all the beers
I drank this afternoon,
und a made a swing set for him.
Ja! Ja!"
I'm like, "Maybe you're drinking
a lot of beer?"
"Nein! I am German.
My body's built like
a Brita filter.
"It goes in as
the pure alcohol,
"it comes out as
the fresh water.
Perhaps you'd like to try some?"
I couldn't make this up
if I tried.
Then he wanted to spice
things up in the bedroom.
He was like, "So, maybe
perhaps together
we'll watch the porn, ja?"
Now I'm a good sport.
I'll watch a little porn.
You ever watch a little porn?
But that hardcore stuff?
You seen some hardcore?
Come on.
What do you do?
You've seen a little...
Every time a guy looks
to the side, he's seen it.
I'm sorry.
'Cause women,
we see softcore.
We don't even take it seriously.
You've seen some porn, right?
It's always some silly
storyline like,
"I wonder why
the pizza guy is so late?"
And then the pizza guy shows up
with that bad porn music.

Or maybe it takes place
in a Parisian hotel
late at night,
the sun's setting.
You can make out
the woman's breasts.
She's wearing a sexy negligee.
You hear French music
in the background
to set the tone.

And maybe it's
a complicated storyline,
like she can't get the window
to open, you know?
Something that
sucks you into the drama.
"I do not know what
the problem is.
"I cannot seem to get
the window to open!
"Oh, it's hot!
Oh, so hot!"
"I want to take my clothes
and throw them out the window!"
"Let me call
the maintenance man.
Pierre. He's so sexy."
Then Pierre shows up,
he's all French and hunky.
He's, like, wearing a thong
and a hammer...
"Ma cherie, what seems
to be the problem?"
She's like, "I do not know.
I cannot seem to get the window
to open up."
"It's so hot.
Maybe you can open the window?
I will watch."
"Oh, ma cherie, I will fix
this broken window
"and I will fix
your broken heart.
"I'm so in love with you.
Marry me.
You're so beautiful."
The credits, the music.

It's nice.
Nice.
That's the stuff we like.
I saw the hardcore version
of this film,
and I'm still recovering.
It's like, "Hey, I see that
your window's a little busted.
Let me fix that for ya."
Bam, bam, bam, bam!
"You like that?"
Bam, bam, bam, bam!
"I'll show you a baguette."
Bam, bam, bam, bam!
"You like that?"
Bam, bam, bam, bam!
"Don't fall out!"
Bam, bam, bam, bam!
"You like that?"
Bam, bam, bam, bam!
"Yeah, baby!
Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!"
Bam, bam, bam, bam!
"You like it?
You like it?
You like it?"
Bam, bam, bam, bam!
"Come on!"
Bam, bam, bam, bam,
bam, bam, bam, bam!
Remember the film now?
I'm like, "Oh, my God!
Poor girl."
And he didn't even
fix the window.
You guys have been awesome.
Thank you!
Thank you!
Thank you!

Kerri Louise
is not just funny,
she's a mom.
So a friend of mine
said to me one time,
she's like,
"I gotta tell ya this.
"I hate to share this story,
but you need to know.
"I was in the booking room
and they needed to fill a spot
"real quick.
And they said, 'Well, why don't
you call Kerri Louise?'
They're like, 'Nah,
she has three kids.
She can't get out of the house.'
And then someone
suggested some guy,
and he's like,
'Oh, my God, yeah!
'He just had a baby.
He needs the money.
Call him.'"
Oh, yeah!
Oh, yeah!
Oh, yeah!
Oh!
Oh, my God!
Oh, my God! Hi!
Before I even start,
I gotta just tell ya.
I gotta just tell ya
this one thing.
Oh, my God.
Oh, my God.
I gotta tell you this one thing.
I have one of those--
what do you call those?
What are they called now?
Um... husbands.
And-- I know, right?
You got one of those?
I don't even know why...
...I got married.
I mean, I know why.
The health insurance.
But, um...
I think every woman
who has a husband
imitates their husband
in the same, exact way.
We all have that same
"husband voice," and this is it.
Yeah, so my husband comes home
and he's like...
"I don't know what I want."
"You didn't tell me. What?"
You're cute, yeah.
You're cute when
you're a boyfriend.
As soon as you're a husband,
you have buck teeth
and you talk like this.
And when you're married
for a really long time,
like me, we hunch our backs.
And when you get married,
you lose your brain,
then you start asking us
where things are
without even thinking
where the item
might possibly be.
Why?
My husband will just
scream my name for five minutes.
"Honey! Sweetie!
"Where are the batteries?
The batt--"
"In the battery drawer.
Says batteries right on it.
It's been there for five years."
"I didn't know that.
You didn't tell me.
How was I supposed to know..."
"Yeah, but it says--
because it says 'batteries.'"
"But you didn't tell me."
"It says it!"
We're married to
the same guy, right?
Please help me with this one.
Please help me with this one.
How can my husband
go to the Dollar Store
and spend $150?
How does that happen?
Do you know what
that means to me, sir?
Do you know what that means?
That means I have to find
a place for 150
shitty items!
Exactly, yeah.
For him to ask me where
the hell they are a week later.
"What'd you do with that stuff
from the Dollar Store?
"I put it right here with my
keys and my sandwich last week.
What'd you do with it?"
"How about batteries?
There's no more."
No, he wasn't.
He doesn't put anything away.
And when I put it away
and he can't find it,
he gets mad at me and then he
starts calling me Patty Putaway.
"What'd you do with it, Patty?
"Hey, Patty Putaway?
Putaway Patty?
"Patty Putaway?
Patty, Patty, Patty,
Patty, Patty, Patty.
"Putaway, Putaway, Patty!
Patty?"
My name's Kerri, by the way.
Yeah. Love him to death.
Love him to death.
But we're getting divorced.
We're not.
But if we were,
it would be over the computer.
Yeah, if I have to teach him
cut and paste
one more time...
This is his favorite game.
He loves this game.
'Cause he knows he can win.
We're about to fall asleep
and he says,
"Let's see who can
go to sleep the fastest."
'Cause guys,
you're out like that.
You're not even finished
telling us you're asleep,
and you're asleep.
"I think I'm gonna..."
I wanna fall asleep like that!
Women can't
fall asleep like that.
Don't you wanna fall asleep
like that?
We can't!
Yes! We can't!
We're like a computer
that can't shut down.
There's something
operating on it,
and that pinwheel keeps turning.
That's your inner voice
trying to go to sleep.
This is my inner voice
going... "Kerri, go to sleep.
"You gotta go to sleep.
You gotta work out
tomorrow morning.
You gotta work out.
You ate way too much today."
I know.
How many calories
are in a muffin?
Times three.
That bitch better not
get my coffee wrong
tomorrow morning.
I swear to God.
What's so hard about
large black?
"Go to sleep, Kerri.
You have so much to do.
And don't forget to call
the plumber."
I'm not gonna forget.
"You're gonna forget.
You should wake up
and write it down."
I'm not waking up.
I'm not
writing it down.
"Well, don't forget you have
so much to do tomorrow,
and why is my rash not gone?
My rash should be gone by now.
I'm using the strong stuff."
"That's so weird that I thought
of 'large black,'
then I thought of my plumber."
"Then I thought of my rash."
"Kerri, go to sleep.
You have so much to do.
I hate myself."
"I hate my hair.
I have nothing to wear.
Nothing fits."
"I need bangs."
"I need Botox.
Shit. Should have
married someone rich."
"You know what, Kerri?
You should stop thinking
of yourself.
"You should be praying to God
at a time like this.
You should be thinking of
someone who's less fortunate."
You're right, you're right,
you're right.
Dear God, it's me Kerri.
God bless everybody.
And I know you're really busy,
God, but please, God,
please, God,
when you get a second,
please, God, please, God,
pleeeeease, God,
make my period come, please.
I don't think I'm pregnant.
I know I'm not pregnant.
But I think I might be
going through the change,
and I am just way too young
to be going through the change.
I can't be going through--
Oh, my God, I could be sick.
I'm sick.
Oh, my God, my rash is cancer!
I have cancer!
He's sleeping, thank God.
Phew! Now I don't
have to have sex with him.
Maybe I should wake him up
and have sex with him?
Maybe that would relax me
and I can finally fall asleep?
Should I wake him up?
No, I'm too tired.
It's too late.
Well, it's only
gonna take a second.
And we have--
we have twin boys together.
It's true, yeah.
I think they're cute.
Yeah, they're so cute.
Obviously I'm gonna think
they're cute.
My husband's Irish,
I'm Lebanese.
That's a great combination.
You know the boys
are gonna grow up
to be drunken terrorists.
We're really proud.
They'll get drunk,
then they'll forget
where they hid the bomb,
and then they'll text mommy,
"Where's the bomb?"
"In the drawer marked 'bomb.'
"Says 'bomb' right on it!
"It's been there
for five years!
You're just like your father!"
My twins, they have
their own cell phones now,
and they have girlfriends,
and they're too young
to have both.
And I check
their text messages.
Because I'm a good mother
and it's a safety issue.
I'm not one of these moms,
"Oh, my God, it's invading
their privacy."
No, it's not.
I pay for the bill.
They're my text messages!
It's those same moms,
when you ask them
how old their baby is,
they're like, "Oh, 79 weeks."
Four months goes into a...
Like, you didn't care
how old the baby was,
you were just making
nice conversation,
and then she makes you do math!
You wanna say,
"You know what?
"Take that gluten free
home-made apple sauce
and shove it up your ass."
Yeah, and it's those same moms
that refuse
to get a mini van
because they look "uncool."
Yeah, I have a friend like that.
She says to me,
while I'm driving her
in my mini van,
"Oh, my God, I wouldn't
be caught dead in a mini van."
So slammed on my brakes.
Now she's dead,
in my mini van.
That's right.
That's right.
So I'm a good mother.
I check their text messages.
And here's what they talk about
with their girlfriends.
Nothing. It takes them
an hour to say hi.
"Hey. What's up?"
"Nothing. What's up?"
"Nothing. What's up?"
"You wanna talk?"
"Okay. What do you
wanna talk about?"
"I don't know.
What do you wanna talk about?"
"I don't know.
Ask your brother."
I'm like, okay,
it's a threesome.
No. Nothing going on.
Then they have
these emoji contests.
How many emojies they can put
in one text message.
It's 1,000.
They have 1,000.
It's a contest.
They have 1,000.
they cut and paste.
They can cut and paste.
Not my husband.
They add three more,
and it goes on for days, okay.
And one time-- this is what
they taught me.
There's a poop.
There's a piece of shit
with eyes on it.
Yeah, I thought they were
texting me chocolate ice cream.
I had no idea.
So at the end of the night
when I wanna read
any text message,
there's no text message.
There's tons of these
smiley faces, right?
Tons of everything.
The monkey, shit, everything.
Right? One time, I saw a smiley
face with a gun to his head.
I'm like, "Oh, my God!
One of 'em's suicidal!"
No. There's nothing going on.
I'm exhausted.
At this point,
I would be comfortable
and happy reading anything--
any type of text.
Like, "Let's sneak out,
smoke pot and fuck!"
That's what I wanted to read!
So I was telling
my friend this joke,
and she's looking for the smiley
face and the revolver.
She can't find the revolver.
So I asked my twins, I'm like,
"What happened to the revolver?"
They're like, "Oh, Apple
changed it to a squirt gun."
I'm like, "Really?
Thank you Apple.
Mm! Thank you
for doing your part."
Changing lives
one squirt gun at a time.
Thanks!
I miss it, I have to say.
I'm sorry.
I have to say I miss it.
I want it back--
for my own use.
You know? So I can tell
my twins I'm really mad at 'em.
You know?
"Get home, or you're dead!"
Yeah, now it's,
"Get home, or you're wet."
Not the same.
So I had another kid.
One this time.
And can I tell you
a little secret?
I was fatter with one baby
than I was with two.
Yeah, 'cause my belly
remembered what it was like
to be pregnant,
and it was... big.
It just went to that belly,
that baby belly,
and it stretched out even more.
I had a belly ring
that flew off
and hit my doctor in the eye.
I was big.
I couldn't even bend over,
which was how I got in the mess
in the first place.
That's another story.
That's for late night.
That's for
after the show.
So anyway-- but no, I was big.
The point is this.
This is what I'm trying to say,
is I still look pregnant
sometimes.
I don't look fat.
I look pregnant.
That belly just goes
to that baby belly.
We know what it's like.
I don't look pregnant
all the time.
But, ladies, you know,
it's that time of the month.
I'm a little bloated,
and if I haven't shit
in a while,
four months pregnant,
I swear to God.
Am I giving you
too much information?
And I get asked if I'm due
a lot.
A lot, but it's not
by everybody.
It's by-- you know,
'cause, guys, you're smart.
You don't say anything.
You're like, "Look up.
"Look up.
Look at her titties
like you always do.
Don't ask questions!"
Right?
But women get too excited.
One woman actually went to go
touch my belly.
She's like, "Are you...?"
And I'm like, "No."
And she's like, "Ahhh!"
It happens so often.
It's, like, the worst
30 second of my life.
And now I just make it up.
I say, "I'm pregnant."
I say I'm having a baby.
It's a better conversation.
It really is.
She doesn't feel like a moron,
and I don't feel like
I'm gonna kill myself.
I'm like,
"Yeah, I'm four months,"
and she's like, "Oh, my God!
You look great!"
I'm like, "I know!"
She's like,
"When you turn around
you don't even look pregnant."
I'm like, "I know!"
Don't do this.
Long story short:
That woman happens to be
a lactation consultant,
and now I have an interview
with her the Tuesday
after my fake baby's born,
so she can
help me breastfeed.
Yeah, so let me give you
some advice, women.
Never ask another woman
when she's due.
Never. I don't care
if she's out to here
and she's rubbing her back
and saying, "My ankles."
Don't ask her!
I don't care if there's a foot
hanging out
of her hoo-hoo!
Do not ask her if she's pregnant
until she says, "You moron!
I'm having a baby!"
Then call 9-1-1.
Congratulate her, too.
Call 9-1-1 first.
The baby's coming out
foot first.
She's gonna need some help.
Even I thought I was pregnant
one night.
I thought--
I was, like, hard.
I ate too much, my belly
was right there, like a baby.
I'm like-- I turn to the side.
I'm like, "There it is!"
I'm like, "Oh, my God,
I'm pregnant!"
I felt fluttering.
I felt kicking.
I'm like, "It's kicking!"
Turned out to be gas.
But anyway.
I said to my husband,
"You gotta get
a pregnancy test."
He got it, I took it,
it came out negative.
But I'm a little nervous,
'cause he got it at
the Dollar Store.
So...
But I don't look pregnant
tonight, boy.
I'm not messing around!
I'm on TV!
That's right!
Plus, I have the best pair
of Spanx on ever!
I'm talking about
the metal clips
and the tire material.
That's what I'm talking about.
I have that on.
And on top of that
I have a girdle,
and on top of that, duct tape!
Yes!
I look hot.
Just don't take me to bed,
because then it's gonna be like
opening up one of those
crescent roll cans.
You guys have been great.
I've been Kerri Louise.
Thank you very much!
Thank you!

When you're a young comic,
you should be looking backwards
and seeing who broke the mold,
and who's paved the way
for you.
Joan Rivers... was my heart,
and I miss her
every day.
Um, I'm on a TV show,
and Joan Rivers is coming on
as my aunt.
And I walked over
and she said,
"I've never seen the camera
take weight
off of anyone before."
And the entire room got quiet,
and I just burst
into laughter.
And she said, "Come here,
ya thick-skinned comedian,"
and she gave me a big hug.
And we were just tight
ever since then.
Um, let me look at everybody.
Hi!
Um...
Okay, first,
just drink me in for a minute.
Look at the whole get-up.
Here's what happened.
Normally-- I've started
giving up.
Like...
Right? Like, tonight,
my breasts feel very aggressive.
But... then I was trying
to figure out
what I would wear tonight,
'cause I knew this
was a big event.
Let me just tell you,
never binge-watch, like,
ten hours of "Mrs. Maisel."
...and then pick out
your outfit.
This is what
you end up looking like.
I don't know how they kept
this shit up.
This is so uncomfortable.
All of it.
There's all kinds of things
going on.
It's like behind the scenes
at the electric light parade
underneath this...
All right, we don't have
a lot of time.
Um, I'm in menopause.
Uh...
For those interested.
Um, where are my
little youngies?
Where are the little,
really young--
the 22s, where are you?
There, there they are.
Um, menopause is when
Mother Nature
tells you that
your leaves are brown.
She's very clear.
She's like,
"You don't have to die,
but we don't need you."
"You can flourish,
you can wither.
"It's all on you.
"No one's gonna water you
on the regular.
That's what I'm trying to say."
I, um...
I called my friend
the other day,
'cause she knew
I was getting ready for this,
and she's like, "I want you
to go to my stylist.
"I want you to be, like,
stop traffic gorgeous for this.
It's Showtime."
And I was like,
"Okay, you know
I'm 51 years old.
"I'm not stopping traffic
unless I throw myself
in front of a bus."
I'm sorry, I mean, it's just--
it's just real.
It's not--
I'm not stopping traffic.
51, I mean...
I might slow down
a walker.
My young girls.
Are you enjoying life?
It's never gonna get
fucking better
than it is right now.
Where are my other youngies?
Let me see you.
There-- Oh, look at
this little one. Ugh.
That's a little
white girl, too.
Yes, 'cause her-- white girls,
we age like bananas,
and...
Let me tell you-- can I tell you
what life's gonna get like?
Really quickly, since
it's "Women of a Certain Age,"
and this is what you came for,
was information and laughs.
So...
Listen to Auntie Lynne, okay?
Um...
I don't have children,
but I'm a bit of a prophet.
Like, not in a Jesus way,
but like a Simon
and Garfunkel way.
So...
Right now--
and I say "white girl"
because women of color
don't age like we do.
Like, it's a total
fucking different thing.
I mean, look at Oprah.
She looks exactly like I did
when I was 13.
Like, she-- she does.
She looks perfect,
and I'm drastically different
than when I was 13.
So now, right now,
you're on the lovely, like,
young white girl road.
It's smooth...
I know.
You don't even need two hands.
You just use one hand
and you cruise.
You wave to people.
All the exits are free.
You know, free drinks,
free food,
free, free, free, free, free.
All the streets
are lined with trees
full of possibilities.
You pull over,
your girlfriend jumps out,
shakes a tree,
"Oh, look,"
and you go off.
Now listen, focus,
we don't have a lot of time.
When you hit your 30s,
it's gonna be very--
What's gonna happen
is you're gonna pull over,
and it's gonna be like "boom"
when you get off
at exit 30.
Like, boom,
"What the fuck?"
And...
...then it's gonna
smooth out again,
and then all the exits
are gonna change.
Every single exit
is gonna be like,
"Have a baby.
Have a baby now.
"Have a baby in a little while.
"Have a boy baby.
Have a girl baby.
"Have a baby with a partner.
Have a baby by yourself.
- Steal a baby.
- Snatch a baby."
And when you're about 38,
you'll see, like,
the last one says,
"Fuck a baby!"
And you just...
You go off and you're like,
boom, boom!
Boo-boom!
40s are nothing but just--
off-road, you're just like,
"What's happening?"
Shit flying off the car.
You're on the phone,
"I don't know.
It's shiny.
Do I need it?"
And my mother saw this
and she goes,
"Just wait till
you hit your 50s.
It gets smooth again."
I was like, "What?"
She was right.
It does, doesn't it?
You hit your 50s and--
you know why?
Because now you're just--
you are what you are.
You're just riding on rims.
"Yeah, I can give you a ride.
"But you're gonna have to,
like, crawl in, because...
...that hasn't worked
since 48."
You know what I've been
thinking about a lot?
Like, can we just
take it down for a minute?
I've been thinking a lot
about Melania.
Like, I really think about her.
By the way,
before we start this,
you should know
I'm not married.
I'm what men in Texas call
"a handful."
Um...
Aw, you're so cute.
Men in New York
don't really call me anything.
They just look
a little terrified.
This-- this is true, okay?
I-I saw a guy-- we'll go back
in a minute to Melania.
Don't forget. Um...
I saw-- I was in Times Square
a couple months ago,
and I saw a guy
I dated, like, 15 years ago.
And we just caught eyes.
One of those weird
New York serendipitous moments.
Across, like, Midtown traffic
we caught each other's eye.
And the minute he saw me--
no lie-- he went...
And quickened his step.
And I was like,
"Yeah, go, run, pussy, run!"
Okay, fast, this is why
I think about Melania.
This is why I think about
Melania Trump.
Because, first of all,
God bless her.
She did not buy on for this.
She didn't think he was
gonna be the president.
We didn't think he was gonna
be the president.
She just happened--
She just wanted to send
some money back to Slovenia.
I don't know this for sure,
but I think.
And listen, we need
to be more empathetic.
Like, seriously.
We have a lot of women
here tonight.
Like, just be more empathetic
for the country.
Like, Melania blows him.
That's right-- well,
somebody's gotta do it!
Somebody-- that's right.
My girlfriend was like,
"How would you blow
Donald Trump?"
I'm like,
"With all your jewelry on.
Every fucking bit of it."
Kneeling in uncut diamonds.
Your arms are heavy
from all the tennis bracelets.
You've got huge rings.
You're wearing, like,
two Miss Universe crowns
and you just...
You can't look up.
That's what you can't do.
You can't look up
and see it,
'cause he's got that
resting dick face
all the time, like...
You know the sex face
isn't a lot better.
Um...
and he probably wants her
to say things that aren't true,
'cause I've been with
a lot of men.
I'm sure it's, like--
you know,
she's supposed to say, like,
"Donald, fuck me with your
big black cock, please."
You know he does
stuff like that.
I dress like this-- Do you want
to know something, though?
In the '50s,
all we had to do
was make breakfast,
lunch and dinner,
and avoid a beating.
That's the America we're trying
to get back to, by the way.
And then somebody stood up
and said we should work.
Thank you, Gloria.
Sit down.
And before I go,
can I say this?
It's just us.
And, and people at home.
There was a time, girls,
when we couldn't vote
or read.
We couldn't vote or read.
Do you know that?
How great does it sound?
It's a little great.
Think about it;
we wouldn't be responsible
for anything happening
in the government right now.
We would just be quilting
with the girls.
"These men are making some
poor decisions, aren't they?"
"Shh. Don't tell anybody
what I said.
I don't wanna get beat."
"Pot roast is ready.
I gotta go."
Thank you!

Have I ever been mistreated by
a booker,
a club owner
or a comic?
Hmm, let me think.
Hell yes,
fuck yes,
and totally.
He grabbed me by the boob.
He used to always
grab my hair.
And by like, "Hey, man,
you look sexy,"
The guys would get paid,
and he gave me
the half of the money
and said, "Let me give you
the other half--
we haven't finished counting out
the da-da-da-da-da."
Not only did I not get
my half of money,
I paid for another day
to stay in town
to hunt this bitch down.
And...
we found him.
Let's just say that.
Well, if I'd have known so many
people were gonna show up,
I'd have dressed up
for the occasion.
This old thing
is from my good friend
the Phyllis Diller Collection.
Don't mind if I sit down
and join you, do I?
Do you?
Because, you know,
I ain't gonna stand up here
like fuckin' auction block
while y'all sitting down,
comfortably lookin'
at my ass.
I wanna sit--
let's everybody sit down
and be comfortable.
#MeToo, shit.
Now, I've heard my sisters
come out here tonight
and speak on various situations
dealing with weight
and relationships and aging.
And I checked my Twitter,
and some of my friends and fans
wanted me to speak
on a real issue
in this country,
and that is...
Let's talk about all this
ol' pesky dick-sucking,
shall we?
Okay, now I don't...
I'm not speaking
for every woman in here,
or man,
because I would never
be able to do that,
but I am speaking for me
and my clique.
And I would just like to tell
you gentlemen some things
that I think you probably
don't know
and have never
gave a fuck about,
but you're locked
in here tonight
and you're gonna
fucking hear it.
Guys, it's not that
we won't suck your dicks, okay?
We'll do it.
We'll do this shit.
Especially during the holidays.
If you take your dick
and stick it in that gravy boat,
I will suck the skin
off that bit.
I love gravy, okay.
It's not that we won't
suck your dick,
it's that we don't
wanna suck the bitch
all motherfucking night long.
You know, 17, 18 sucks and,
"You ready? I'm ready.
Well, how many more before
you think you'll be ready?"
"I was ready
five sucks ago, so."
"Down-up--
that's one suck, so..."
17, 18 sucks.
Maybe 25 or 30
if it's Christmas
or your birthday.
And the thing about it
is it's like,
you guys don't want any nice,
polite little dick-sucking.
It can't be like,
"Night-night.
Mwah. Bye, baby.
Mwah, mwah, mwah."
You don't want that.
Every time a bitch
suck your dick,
it's gotta be...
And you know we do that shit,
we go to work the next day,
our neck feels like we've been
in a five-car pile up
on the goddamn freeway.
Now we in the break room
rubbing our fucking neck,
your supervisor come in,
"Brenda, what's wrong?"
"Oh, last night
was Javier's birthday.
I thought he wasn't gonna
never go to sleep, shit."
And personally, I like--
Like, the kind of guys I like,
I like guys with dirty jobs.
Like, guys that wash windows.
Or ever since I saw
the movie "Claudine",
I've liked garbage men.
You know? I like one
of them nighttime,
differential-making
motherfuckers
that drill in the middle
of the street at night.
I like a dirty motherfucker
like that because
when they come home
and they clean up
and you go out it's like
you got a whole new man.
It's like the sun came out.
I don't like you
suit-wearing motherfuckers.
I don't trust you.
You look like the Feds.
You wear a suit to work.
You wear a suit to dinner.
You wear a suit
to the beach.
You wear a suit to the gym.
Who are you,
you robot motherfucker?
I don't know who you are.
But any man that works,
I believe that
you ought to be able
to come home--
I've tried this--
and for 15 minutes,
before you get with
the "Nyah, nyah, nyah, nyah"
from the wife and the kids,
you guys deserve to have
15 minutes to "woosah"
as well.
Relax.
Wash off the e--
you know, the daytime
activities of working,
giving to the family.
But see, then you motherfuckers
take it too far.
Now when you supposed
to be downstairs
in the basement relaxing,
listening to jazz,
smoking a bowl or something...
...you done turned on
some more Vanessa del Rio
throwback porno
fuckin' video.
And if you don't know
who Vanessa del Rio is,
that bitch was the GOAT, okay?
That bitch was
the greatest of all time.
Vanessa del Rio could have
a dick in her pussy,
one in her booty,
two under her arms,
jack two off,
and suck one.
That fucking should be
in the Olympics.
So now then you
come upstairs, see,
with your dick in your hand,
and you want somebody
to suck it.
It's about
your timing too, guys.
Because while you been
downstairs watching porno,
we been upstairs
correcting homework,
running bath water,
and making some
punk bitch-ass
chocolate chip cookies
for the punk bitch-ass
bake sale that's tomorrow
that we just found out about
15 minutes ago.
What's my motivation to suck
your fucking dick right now?
I'll tell you what
the porno bitch's
motivation was.
They gave that bitch $30,000
to suck a dick like that.
Oh, I wish
a motherfucker would
come up to me, Luenell,
with $30,000
in his motherfucking hand.
I would suck a watermelon
through a garden hose.
Just like that,
I'd hold it in my mouth.
For $30,000, I would
suck your dick, sir,
till my nose bleeds,
you feel me?
For 30 rocks,
I would--
I would do the old
Jill Scott-peppermill,
I'd pull out
all the old tricks.
I'd have drool rubbing off
my elbow for $30,000, shit.
You watch all this porno shit,
now you wanna do
porn-y shit to us.
You wanna...
You-- you wanna cum
on my face.
Huh. Really.
Well, you know, a fair exchange
ain't no robbery.
You wanna cum on my face?
Let me pee in your mouth.
"What the fuck are you
talking about, Luenell?
I would never let no bitch
pee in my mouth."
Well, I did it last week,
you fucking loved it.
Yeah, remember when you said,
"Damn, baby, you sure is wet"?
Yeah, I know, because...
Peed in their mouth
a little bit.
It's not that
I haven't tried
to let you guys
have your way with me.
But your aim ain't as good
as you think it is.
I done had enough strep throat,
pink eye, and ear aches
to last me a goddamn lifetime.
If I even feel a dick trying
to throb toward my face,
I do "The Matrix".
I remember back in the '70s,
the OGs,
they used to say,
"I heard it's good
for your skin."
Is that right?
Well, guess what?
You got a little pimple
right there.
Why don't we scoop
some of this up
and rub it on
your goddamn face?
Fuck outta here
with that bullshit.
Then you wanna do things,
like, you wanna...
you wanna hold our head.
See, don't do that.
'Cause every woman in here
got a different gag reflex
and you don't know
what kinda trauma
a woman done had down
her throat in her lifetime.
But here you come trying to jig
your dick down
somebody's throat.
Be gentle, you know?
Be nice. Be nice.
You know, bi-- suck your thumb,
bite the pillow,
pull the curtains
off the window,
but don't hold our head.
Now, we know
that you love it.
Fuckin' love it when
you see us choking
and gasping for air.
Tears running down
our fucking face
'cause you just know that
we must be choking
on your big fucking dick, huh?
Uh, no.
No.
What had happened was...
...you done held my head
so deep in your crotch,
that now your dick
is touching
that little
dingly-dangly thing
back in my-- my throat.
And they love it.
They be like,
"Yeah, bitch, take that dick."
"No, wait a minu--"
But I re-- I remember
the good ol' days.
There were some.
I remember the good ol' days
of dick-sucking.
Way back in the good ol' days.
Now, what I'm about
to say is shocking, so...
I'ma stand behind this pole
so y'all can't see me.
No, I can make myself
be small.
Watch.
I did this shit one time
in Chicago.
This bitch said,
"Where'd she go?"
That's what I'm talking about.
Play along, motherfucker.
So... I remember
the good ol' days
of dick-sucking way back--
guys, way back.
I remember when,
in the good ol' days
when you guys,
when your dicks
was already hard
when we put it in our mouth.
It's the least you could do.
Must we do every goddamn thing?
Shit.
If the sight of your woman
gettin' out the bathtub
soaking wet, bending over,
ass and pussy
all up in the air,
water dripping down
the crack of their ass,
bending over to rub
some baby oil,
or some Icy Hot,
or some Tiger Balm,
or some shit on...
Let's ke--
let's keep it real.
If that don't make
your dick hard,
then you, my friend, you might
wanna up your Obamacare.
You got about ten more days
to do that.
Or you might wanna go
to the VA
'cause you got penile,
erectile dysfunction.
Like, goddamn,
we'll suck your dick.
We don't wanna have to chase
the bitch around the house.
"All right, come on..."
I know I done fucked it up
for somebody tonight.
They gonna get home,
she gonna be like,
"You better come out
if you want me to do it."
He'll be like,
"Wait! Give me a minute!"
Hey, you guys,
thank you so much.
My name's Luenell.
Well, being a female comic,
I mean, it's been about
the same when I started
as it is now.
It's just my attitude
is probably a lot different.
When I'm working
with women comedians,
there's a kind of sense
of community and warmth.
The media, or commercials,
or television want you to think
that women are like
"The Real Housewives"
and everyone's competitive
and everyone is backstabbing.
That's a myth, by the way,
that female comics
don't get along,
it's a myth.
And some day,
maybe we'll even be able
to qualify it as just "comics"
and not have to put
"female" before it.

We have a little bit
of a "Nanny" reunion here.
Rene Taylor is here!
Give her a hand!
Carol said, you know,
"We want to do the show."
And I would go, "Yeah, no,
that sounds good. Good."
And then I'd get off
the phone, I'm like...
"I-- I don't..."
"Will they use older women?"
And I thought, "Yeah.
We do have a voice.
They do want to hear
what we have to say."
And that's why I think
this show is so important,
because I think it opens
the door just a crack
to make this happen.