Monday, June 21, 2010

Standup routine excerpt: You do NOT want to see our porn.

I love sharing, and I have to say, not everything is okay to share. Seriously. Some things, yes, you should share. Like VD history, and food allergies. Some things, no. Like porno. I'm not going to say that anyone shouldn't watch porn. I LOVE porn. I'm just saying that you really shouldn't share it. I have been with some straight up whoreish women. Like gutterbutt, nasty, bitches. Like “slap-me-in-the-face and spit-in-my-asshole” bitches. Real marriage material. However, as soon as they asked to see what I watch when I am doing my bass solo, the “relationship” took a nosedive. I'm not into shit like kids and goats, but if any of you caught wind of the stuff that I tug to, you'd call the police, and a priest, and a plumber. And that would be for you. And that's the reason that none of you will date me. I mean that, and the fact that I have been telling the truth up here.


Men, dudes. When your old lady asks to see your porno, show her, but show her your 'porn lite.' Never, I say again, never show her the shit that actually gets you off. Why? Because she'll never talk to you again.
Ladies. When you make the rather unwise decision to ask to see what we are into, accept the reality that we so lovingly and meticulously craft for you. Do not, under any circumstances, if you treasure your relationship, press him for more, or in God's Holy Name, look for more. You think that it'll be hot, that it'll make us closer. The only thing that you are going to accomplish is cry and vomit while you try to scrub your flesh off in the shower for the rest of the day.
You know that TV show, snapped? The chicks who kill their husbands and shit? It's nothing but one woman after another who watched her man's porno and was scarred forever. There are just some things that you cannot unsee.


Same goes for our fantasies, ladies. I know that in your crazy little heads, you have the dream that when you ask us about what really gets us going that we'll tell you that it's... you, when in fact, it's your sister, three of your best friends, lumber, the chick with the big ass who bumped us on the metro, Scarlett Johansen, a midget in saran wrap, wood screws and a whole lot of grape soda. You don't want to hear about it, and trust me, you don't want to see the glint in our eyes when we tell you that we're off to Home Depot. Whenever I'm asked, I tell the truth, 100% of the time. That's why I'm single. I always answer, “does this make my ass look fat” with “yes.”

No comments:

Post a Comment