Ali Wong | Transcripts

Baby Cobra (2016) | Transcript

Hi. Hello! Welcome! Thank you! Thank you for coming. Hello! Hello. We
are gonna have to get this shit over with, ’cause I have to pee in, like, ten
minutes. But thank you, everybody, so much for coming.

Um… It’s a very exciting day for me. It’s been a very exciting year for me. I
turned 33 this year. Yes! Thank you, five people. I appreciate that. Uh, I can
tell that I’m getting older, because, now, when I see an 18-year-old girl, my
automatic thought… is “Fuck you.” “Fuck you. I don’t even know you, but
fuck you!” ‘Cause I’m straight up jealous. I’m jealous, first and foremost, of
their metabolism. Because 18-year-old girls, they could just eat like shit, and
then they take a shit and have a six-pack, right? They got that-that beautiful
inner thigh clearance where they put their feet together and there’s that huge
gap here with the light of potential just radiating through.

And then, when they go to sleep, they just go to sleep. Right? They don’t
have insomnia yet. They don’t know what it’s like to have to take a Ambien
or download a Meditation Oasis podcast to calm the chatter of regret and
resentment towards your family just cluttering your mind. They have their
whole lives ahead of them. They don’t have HPV yet. They just go to sleep in
peace at night. Everybody has HPV, OK? Everybody has it. It’s OK. Come
out already. Everybody has it. If you don’t have it yet, you go and get it. You
go and get it. It’s coming. You don’t have HPV yet, you’re a fucking loser, all
right? That’s what that says about you. A lot of men don’t know that they
have HPV, because it’s undetectable in men. It’s really fucked up. HPV is a
ghost that lives inside men’s bodies and says, “Boo!” in women’s bodies. My
doctor told me that I have one of two strains of HPV. Either I have the kind
that’s gonna turn into cervical cancer… …or I have the kind where my body
will heal itself. Very helpful, this doctor, right? So, basically, either I’m gonna
die… or you’re in the presence of Wolverine, bitches. We’ll find out.

Um, I can also tell that I’m getting older, because my Kindle is turning into a
self-help library. I’m not interested in books like Fifty Shades of Grey, OK?
I’m interested in The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up. Yes. Yes, that’s
right, how to declutter my home to achieve inner peace and my optimum
level of success. That’s what your 30s is all about. How can I turn this shit
around? I’m a horrible person, I’m not happy with where I am, how can I
turn this shit around? Help me, Tony Robbins, help me!​
I have a hoarding problem, which I’m hoping is the center of all of my other
problems. I’m hoping that if the hoarding goes away, the HPV will also
disappear. I have a hoarding problem because my mom is from a third world
country and she taught me that you can never throw away anything, because
you never know when a dictator’s gonna overtake the country and snatch all
your wealth. So, you better hold onto that retainer from the third grade,
’cause it might come in handy as a shovel when you’re busy stuffing gold up
your butt and running away from the Communists.​
The last time I was at home in San Francisco, I was trying to help her get rid
of shit. Don’t ever do that with your mom. It was like the worst experience of
my life. It was so emotional. We were screaming and fighting and yelling and
it all came to a climax when she refused to let go of a Texas Instruments
TI-82… manual. The manual. She don’t even know… where the calculator is.
Those of you under 25 probably don’t know what that calculator is. It was
this calculator that bamboozled my generation. We were all required to buy it
when we were in eight grade. It cost like $200. And everybody thought it was
like this Judy Jetson’s laptop from the future. All because what? It could
graph. It was like the Tesla of my time. And my mom got so emotional about
the manual and she was like, “You never know when you might need this.”
And I was like, “But… I do know… that I’m gonna have to clean all this shit
up when you die.” “And I’m not trying to be a procrastinator anymore.
Because according to Deepak-Oprah, that’s not the way for me to achieve my
optimum level of success.”

I grew up a lot this past year. Uh, this past year I also got married. Yeah. To a
man who now has HPV. Very lucky guy. He gave me something. I gave him
something. That will also last forever. No, really. I’m the lucky girl, because
before him, I dated a lot of losers. Lots of losers. A lot of skaters. You wanna
be a grown-ass woman, stop dating skaters. Stop dating skaters unless you
wanna wake up on a mattress in a kitchen. They’re sexy on the outside, malt
liquor on the inside. Horrible. But my husband, I first met him at this
wedding and, uh, he’s– he’s much better looking than me, he’s way out of
my league, and I saw him and I was like, “Oh, my God, who is that?” And the
first thing I learned about him was that, at the time, he was attending
Harvard Business School. And I was like, “Oh, my God, I’m gonna trap his
ass.” “Going to trap his ass!” And I trapped his ass initially by not kissing him
until the fifth date, which is a very unusual move on my part. But I did it on
purpose, because I knew that he was a catch. So I was like, “All right, Ali, you
gotta make this dude believe that your body is a secret garden.” When, really,
it’s a public park… …that has hosted many reggae fests… …and has even
accidentally let… two homeless people inside. I thought they were hipsters,
OK? That store Urban Outfitters has made things very confusing… for my
generation. You homeless or you a hipster? Is that beard for fashion or for
warmth? It happened to… It happened in San Francisco, when I was living
there, and I saw this guy in broad daylight and we had, like, we had… We had
so much chemistry. He was like, “Hey, wassup?” I was like, “Wassup?” And
we– The next thing I knew, we were getting busy in the back of my Volvo.
And then after we were done, he was like, “Hey, can you drop me off?” I was
like, “Where?” He was like, “At the park.” And I dropped him off at Golden
Gate Park and watched him run into the middle with all his other homeless
friends, and I was like, “Oh, no!” “I just fucked a homeless dude! Again!”

My husband is Asian. Which a lot of people are shocked by, because, usually,
Asian-American women who, like, you know, wear these kinda glasses and
have a lot of opinions, they like to date white dudes. You go to any hipster
neighborhood in a major city in America and that shit is turning into a Yoko
Ono factory. It’s… too much. I don’t know what’s wrong with these bitches.
I get it, you know, because being with a white dude you feel very… You feel
very picturesque when you’re with a white dude, you know. You feel like
you’re in a Wes Anderson movie or something. And you know, white dudes,
they teach you about a lot of cool stuff like voting and recycling, and
disturbing documentaries. They introduce you to cool stuff like that and it’s
very, you know, it’s hot hookin’ up with a white dude. I mean, nothing
makes me feel more powerful than when a white dude eats my pussy. Oh, my
God. I just feel like I’m absorbing all of that privilege and all of that
entitlement… …you know, just right there, through the money hole and
just… And then also, he’s so vulnerable down there. I’m, like, “I could just
crush your head at any moment, white man! I could just kill you right now!
Crush those brains! Colonize the colonizer!” You know?

But I think that for marriage, it can be nice to be with somebody of your
own race. The advantage is that you get to go home… and be racist together.
You get to say whatever you like! You don’t gotta explain shit. My husband,
half-Filipino, half-Japanese. I’m half-Chinese and half-Vietnamese. And we
spend 100 percent of our time shitting on Korean people. It’s… amazing. It’s
what love is built on, you know?

My last boyfriend was Cuban and his family would shit on Mexican people
all the time. And I was like, “Hold it. You guys aren’t Mexican?”
Asian-American men are very underrated. I don’t know why people don’t go
for them. They’re the sexiest. Asian men are the sexiest. They got no body
hair from the neck down. It’s like making love to a dolphin. Oh, my God. It’s
so smooth, just like a slip and slide. Just black fish, Tilikum, all up in my bed
every night, you know? Ooh-wee. You mess with a Jewish dude and your
body is all fucked up afterwards. It’s all red and inflamed and you’re like, “I
did not ask to be exfoliated today.” “This is the last time I go on J-date, more
like loofah date. Thanks for the rug burn, Avi.” And then Asian men, no
body odor. None. They just smell like responsibility. That’s where the
umami flavor comes from.

I think my husband and I have a huge unspoken understanding, uh, between

each other, because he’s half-Filipino and half-Japanese and I’m half-Chinese
and half-Vietnamese. So, we’re both half-fancy Asian… …and half-jungle
Asian. Yeah! You guys know the difference. The fancy Asians are the Chinese,
the Japanese. They get to do fancy things like host Olympics. Jungle Asians
host diseases. It’s… It’s different. But he grew up on the East Coast, going to
private school, playing lacrosse, uh, you know, learning Latin and playing
chess and rugby. He grew up like Filipino Carlton, OK? So, he didn’t know
anything about Vietnamese people until he met me. And on one of our first
dates, he took me to this restaurant on the west side of Los Angeles called
Pho Show. He was like, “It’s authentic Vietnamese. I read about it on Yelp!” I
was like, “It’s not authentic, OK?” You can tell, first and foremost, by the
name, ’cause it don’t got a number in it. Second of all, you can tell by the
bathroom. If it was legit, the bathroom would double as a supply closet.
When I pee, I need to see ten gallons of bleach, an ATM machine and a
grandma with glaucoma napping in the corner. And the wait staff here is too
nice. We need to leave this restaurant deaf and emotionally abused.

I grew up going to private school, too. Him and I are both total, like, private
school Asians. We both are big hippies, too. We like to backpack through
Southeast Asia. We like to do yoga. We do ayahuasca ceremonies. We do
silent meditation retreats. That’s right, we pay $800 to shut up for a
weekend. We do shit like that. Uh, we eat gluten-free, which means we eat all
that bread that tastes like free-range Chewbacca. We eat that lesbian bread
that’s like… …a thousand percent of your daily fiber… and 20 percent spoken
word poetry. When you eat it, you queef a shitty poem about… …supporting
Caitlyn Jenner or whatever. And so, it’s funny, right, because he’s Asian, too.
But sometimes, all of this hippy-dippy shit we do… makes me feel like we are
white people doing an impression of Asian people. Like, we have these
Chinese scrolls up on the wall… and neither of us know what the fuck they
mean. We’re like, “Oh, that seems to go very well with our Buddha piggy
bank from Pier 1 Imports. That seems to be providing some good feng shui
for the house.

Him and I had been dating for four years and I– I just had this sneaking
suspicion that he was gonna propose… because… I had been pressuring him
to do it. So, you know, I just had this wacky women’s intuition. That’s how
proposals really work, OK? A woman has to incept the idea into the man’s
head. First passively and then if he doesn’t get the message, extremely
aggressively. You gotta threaten to leave without ever actually leaving, because
you know that you’re too old and it’s too late to go back out there and find a
new man and start the whole manipulation cycle all over again. So, you’re
like, “I’m just gonna stick with this dude, focus on trapping this dude, and
just nag the shit outta him until he becomes weak and caves in and gets fed
up and is like, “Shut the fuck up! Fine, will you marry me?” And then
afterwards, the woman is always, like, “Oh, my God! He proposed!” “It came
outta nowhere. And look, he got me the exact ring I wanted. How did he
know? Maybe he saw it on my Pinterest page or something… that I sent to
my best friend, that I told her to send to him every day.” Let me tell you
something. If a man has a Pinterest page… he’s probably Pinterested in men.
We got engaged on a Saturday. I bought my wedding dress the following
Tuesday… because I had tried it on in 2012. I was ready. I was ripe. I was
rotten. I need to be made into banana bread. That’s how rotten I was.

People are always very surprised at how, off-stage, with my husband, I’m a
completely different person. You– Like, you would not recognize my
personality at all with him. With him, I’m very soft, and, like, very nurturing
and very domestic. We’ve been together now for five years, and for five years,
I’ve packed his lunch every single day. Yeah. Yes. Yes. Yes. I did that so that
he’d become dependent on me. ‘Cause he graduated from Harvard Business
School, and I don’t wanna work anymore. I don’t. I straight up don’t wanna
work anymore. I don’t feed him out of the goodness of my heart. I do it as an
investment in my financial future. ‘Cause I don’t wanna work anymore. I’ve
been reading that book by Sheryl Sandberg, she’s the C.O.O. of Facebook,
and she wrote that book that got women all riled up about our careers.
Talking about how we as women should challenge ourselves to sit at the table
and rise to the top. And her book is called Lean In. Well, I don’t wanna lean
in, OK? I wanna lie down. I want to lie the fuck down. I think feminism is
the worst thing that ever happened to women. Our job used to be no job. We
had it so good. We could have done the smart thing, which would have been
to continue playing dumb for the next century and be like, “We’re dumb
women. We don’t know how to do anything. So, I guess we better just stay at
home all day and eat snacks and watch Ellen.” “‘Cause we’re too stupid to
have any real responsibility.” And then, all these women had to show off and
be like, “We could do it! We could do anything.” “Bitch, shut up!” “Don’t
tell them the secret.” They ruined it for us, and now we’re expected to work.
When I hear the phrase, “Double-income household,” I wanna throw up. A
lot of women get very upset with me about those comments. And they’re
like, “But, Ali, we have so many more options now.” Oh, you don’t think we
had a lot of options when our day was free? Unscheduled, unsupervised, and
most importantly, sponsored? Do you know how much shittier food tastes
when you know you have to earn it?

A lot of my friends, when we walk around together, they’ll get very

judgmental about housewives that we’ll see on the street. And they’ll be like,
“Look at that fucking housewife. Not doing anything. Look at that
housewife, just walking around all day, getting massages in her Lululemon
pants.” I’m like, “That bitch is a genius.” “She’s not a housewife, she’s
retired.”

I do write for Fresh Off the Boat on ABC. Yeah. Which is… It’s a great show. I
love it a lot. I love my co-workers. It’s a great writing staff and in terms of day
jobs, it’s probably one of the best you could ask for, but I still gotta work at a
office every day. Which means I gotta shit in a office every day. Housewives,
they don’t gotta shit in a office. Housewives get to shit in their house. Skin to
seat. They don’t gotta use that horrible toilet paper cover. They don’t gotta…
…ten times a day, every day… like you’re about to eat a sad-ass meal. They
don’t gotta do that. They don’t gotta use that one-ply toilet paper, that office
toilet paper, that they purposely make difficult to pull out. They try to ration
me with their communist toilet paper that’s not even effective. It basically
just dehydrates your butt hole. It’s basically like wiping your butt with the
desert. I literally spat on my toilet paper two days ago, to try to make a
MacGyver baby wipe, to moisten it, and then it backfired ’cause my fingers
broke through and digitally stimulated more doo doo to come out, and then
I had to start all over again. And you can never finish wiping at work because
you always feel rushed ’cause you’re paranoid that your co-worker’s gonna
recognize your shoes underneath the stall. And you’re like, “Oh, no!
Courtney’s listening. She’s waiting. She’s timing me.” And then you hurry,
hurry, hurry, and then you never finish wiping and then your butt hole feels
caked in doo doo all day long. And then if you dare scratch yourself, your
underwear at the end of the day looks like it’s been run over by the Goonies.
Housewives, they don’t gotta muffle their shit, too. They don’t gotta worry
about the velocity with which their doo doo comes out. They don’t gotta try
to, you know, squeeze the butt cheeks together to make sure that the doo doo
comes out at a slow and steady pace, so that no unpredictable noise suddenly
escapes and brings you deep, deep shame. Housewives are free to just blow
ass into the toilet and let it echo and reverberate to the ends of their hallways
while watching as much Netflix on their iPad as they want. They don’t gotta
take these boring, repressed shits. They can listen to podcasts. Planet Money.
They can do whatever they want.

You know, it’s– it’s very distracting for me when I hear my co-workers blow
ass into the toilet. I lose respect for them. Nothing they say to me anymore
holds any sort of credence. I heard one of my co-workers blow ass into the
toilet the other day. This bitch had the nerve to come up to me and say, “You
need to get to work on time.” I was like, “You need to eat bananas.” “I saw
those green ballet flats. I know that shit was you. Don’t try to tell me to get
my shit together when I heard you not have your shit together.”

My father-in-law had this huge sit-down with me and my husband recently.

Um, and he was like, “Hey, I wanna talk to you guys about money. You guys
need to make a lot more money if you wanna provide your children with the
same kind of privileged childhood that you guys had.” I was like, “Why you
telling me this shit? I should not be a part of this conversation. You tell you
son that. Don’t your understand that I trapped your son for his earning
potential? Why else would I choose to fuck one person for the rest of my life?
I chose to marry him on the promise of early retirement, and when I said, ‘I
do,’ what I really meant was, ‘Oh, I’m done.'” I’m done. I don’t wanna work
anymore and I’m not dieting anymore. Since I got married last year, I’ve been
eating fried chicken skin every day since. That’s right. And just fulfilling my
destiny. Which is to turn into a circle with eyelashes. Like Mrs. Pacman,
just… Let’s redecorate.

I gave up a lot of myself when I got married. I’m a– I’m a disgusting pervert.
I’m a pervert. I’m a gross filthy animal. And I think it’s because I started
watching porn at a very young age. And what happens when you start
watching porn at a young age is that… y-you get sicker, and sicker, and sicker.
The images you crave get sicker, and sicker, and sicker, but it’s OK, because
the Internet will always catch up to you.

I broke up with my last boyfriend because he refused to put it in the back. I

was like, “Uh, you’re a idiot, dude. Do you realize that if I went on
Craigslist… and posted ‘Tiny Asian female seeking anal…’ the Internet would
crash.” “And all the Jewish male heads in the universe would simultaneously
explode.” They would explode. A lot of women get really, you know…
freaked out about anal. And they’re like, “Oh, I don’t wanna do that. I’m
scared of– of the pain.” You ain’t scared of the pain. Women, they wax their
eyebrows, they do all sorts of crazy shit. You’re not scared of the pain. What
you’re really scared of is doo doo on the dick. You’re scared that he’s gonna
see that and that’s gonna be all of your shame, your inner evil, all your secrets
and lies. Sephora can’t help you now. But don’t worry, ’cause when he puts it
in the butt, all he’s thinking about is, “I just put it in her butt.” “I gotta go
call my mom, my dad, Dave, my grandma.” You’re– If you’re married, you’re
gonna have to do anal eventually, OK? You have to, because you gotta change
it up. You gotta change it up, so that you don’t cheat on each other. You
gotta keep it interesting. If you put it in different holes, maybe you’ll feel like
you’re fucking different people. I was very sexually active in my 20s, and as a
result, I’m a little bit… …stretched out down there, OK? So, when I finally
did anal, I just felt like I got a second chance at life, you know? I was, like,
“Oh, my God! It’s like I’m going back in time!”

♪ A whole new world ♪

It was magical.

A big fantasy of mine before I got married was to help as many men as
possible discover their prostate. Yeah, like a conqueror. I just wanted to…
Now, if you haven’t done it before, ladies, go home and treat yourself. Do it
tonight. You only live once. YOLO. Just sneak your– Just give your man a
little– a little push-push in the tush-tush. Just give him a little Atari, you
know, and you’ll get a lot of resistance from the man at first. You’ll get a lot of
“No! No! No! No, please! No, really, I don’t– No! I don’t! I don’t! No!”
They get all squirmy wormy because… they’re scared. They’re scared that if
you stick your thumb up there and succeed, and they like it, that then, it
might mean that they’re gay. And I like that fear. That shit turns me on, you
know? Especially when that fear metamorphosizes into pleasure. Oh, my
God! And you just see the look in the man’s eye like he’s discovered nirvana.
And it’s like you’re the first lady to show him that he had a magical clit in his
butt hole. And then, you as the woman, in his eyes, just become the Lord of
the Rim, you know?

My husband is unfortunately just not as freaky as me. When– When I’ve

asked him to spank me, this is what he does. “Hey. Hey, are you OK? Are you
all right? You know I respect you, right?” I’m, like, “Yes, I know you respect
me and that’s why you need to abuse me. OK?” ‘Cause it’s the most
strong-headed, loud-mouthed women who like to be abused the most in bed.
Women who are C.E.O.s, they just wanna be roughed around. They just
want their– Glasses always means the woman wants some– It’s because we’re
so in control all the time, that we just wanna experience some risk and be out
of control, you know? Like, “I don’t wanna die! Don’t kill me! I don’t wanna
die!” But I also don’t want to be sure that I’m gonna live. You know? I just
wanna be out of control for once. Just– Just choke me enough so that I can’t
talk. ‘Cause if I can talk, I’m gonna tell you what to do. And I’m tired of
being the boss. I’m the boss all the time, so, in the bedroom, you be the boss.
Yes. Because I’m the real boss. And I told you so, motherfucker, so do it.

Sheryl Sandberg, that woman who wrote Lean In, has had such a big impact
that now, because of her, there is a ban on the word “bossy” in elementary
schools, because according to her, it’s sexist to use the word “bossy,” because
boys are never called bossy. So, now, instead of saying, “You’re bossy,” you’re
supposed to say, “You have executive leadership skills.” Which is a very
roundabout way of saying: “You’re a little cunt.”

I’m just waiting for the right moment to, like, become a housewife,
financially, you know? I want my husband to get us to, like, a certain point
financially. I wanna get to the point as a couple where I can comfortably
afford sliced mango. Know what I’m talking about? I’m talking about that
Whole Foods mango. That $10-a-box Whole Foods mango that was sliced by
white people. That’s the kind of income bracket I’m striving for. That’s
when you know you’ve made it, when you’re eating mango that was sliced by
a dude named Noah. I want Noah mango… …Rebecca kiwi, Danielle
pineapple. You know what else I want? I wanna be able to take a stroll on a
sidewalk, see a quarter, and just keep on walking. Like a princess.

I have some useful advice for all my Asian-American brothers and sisters.
Yeah! Never go paintballing with a Vietnam veteran.

So, I don’t know if you guys can tell, but I am seven and a half months
pregnant. Yeah. It’s very rare and unusual to see a female comic perform
pregnant, because female comics… don’t get pregnant. Just try to think of
one. I dare you. There’s– None of them. Once they do get pregnant, they
generally disappear. That’s not the case with male comics. Once they have a
baby, they’ll get up on stage a week afterwards and they’ll be like, “Guys, I
just had this fucking baby. That baby’s a little piece of shit. It’s so annoying
and boring.” And all these other shitty dads in the audience are, like, “That’s
hilarious. I identify.” And their fame just swells because they become this
relatable family funny man all of a sudden. Meanwhile, the mom is at home,
chapping her nipples, feeding the fucking baby, and wearing a frozen diaper
’cause her pussy needs to heal from the baby’s head shredding it up. She’s
busy. So, I don’t know what’s gonna happen to me. You know, a lot of my
female stand-up comic friends who are a lot more successful and famous than
me discouraged me from having a kid. And they were like, “Ali, why are you
gonna have a kid? You just gonna become– You’re gonna disappear, and
you’re gonna become some lame stay-at-home mom.” I was like, “Yeah, that’s
the dream.” That’s the point. This is the ultimate trap. I won, you know?

Another thing a lot of my friends said to me when they were discouraging me

from having a kid, they were like, “Why are you gonna have a kid? Why don’t
you just travel the world with your husband and just do whatever you want
for the rest of your lives with no kid attached.” I was like, “Yeah, that’s cool…
until my husband dies.” Which he’s definitely gonna before me. Because I’m
a Asian woman, and therefore, guaranteed to live until I’m a billion. I’m
guaranteed, like a turtle from the Galapagos, OK? We all know the phrase
“black don’t crack.” Well, Asian don’t die. We don’t die. Especially the
women, we live forever. And you know why we’re such bad drivers? Because
we’re trying to die. We’re like, “Yeah! Let me see how invincible I really am!”
“Imma make this left hand turn signal and ignore this red light completely.”
“I’m gonna make a right turn– I changed my mind, it’s a U-turn!” “I
changed my mind again. It’s a O-turn!” Every time I get into a car accident…
…I’m like, “Oh, my God, not again!” I need to hide my face so that everybody
doesn’t see that it’s what everybody thought it was gonna be. So
embarrassing. My Toyota Corolla is a mess. There’s this huge bear claw
scratch on the side from this aggressive brick wall that came out of nowhere.
And then, on the hood, there’s multiple hand prints from pedestrians who
have had to alert me of their existence. I don’t know what’s wrong with me,
but I’m still here, you know?

I need to have children to keep me company when I get older. It’s lonely. My
mom is 80, going through a full blown mid-life crisis. ‘Cause she knows that
she’s got a century more to go. And she is so lonely. All of her white friends,
dead. Her Mexican friends, dead. Black friends, dead. I’m just kidding. She
doesn’t have any black friends. Life is not Rush Hour, the movie, OK? I need
children to be there for me when I’m older, when I get as old as her. And
when I say be there for me, I mean pay for me when my husband isn’t around
to support me anymore. I’m not trying to be one of those old Chinese ladies
who recycles for a living. That’s not my destiny, OK? Old Chinese ladies,
they don’t give a fuck. They got no shame. They’re like, “I’m just gonna
recycle… go bald… go to the park, do this shit.” They do that ’cause it’s a free
activity. For them. They do it in their– their big-ass V. Stiviano visor, their
Darth Vader-Tomb Raider- Boba Fett helmet. They wear that to protect
themselves from their arch-nemesis, the sun. Their in a contest to see who’s
gonna burn out first. Old Asian ladies and the sun are like the Tupac and
Biggie of longevity.

I also decided to have a kid because uh, I’m only 33, which, I know, is not
technically high-risk, but my body was starting to show signs of change. And
it– And it scared me. Like, I’m only 33 and… …my pussy is not as wet as it
used to be. It’s very demoralizing, OK? Do you remember when you were 18
years old, and your pussy was just sopping wet all the time? All the time, you
just took it for granted that you could just reach your hand down your pants
at any given moment, you throw up the peace sign afterwards, and there
would be that snail-trail in between your fingers. Oh, my God, it was so juicy.
You could just blow a bubble wand with it, just… “I slime you, I slime you.
Ghostbusters!”

I don’t know what kind of mother I’m gonna be. I’m– I’m 33, and I did have
to get a little bit of science involved when trying to get pregnant. And a lot of
that… is most likely my fault. Because, when I was in my 20s, I ate Plan B like
skittles. So, my uterus probably looked like a smoker’s lung. And I found out
that my progesterone levels were alarmingly low. So, then I had to take these
hormone pills that were suppositories, and Push Pop them up myself every
single night. And then, at my writing job, at Fresh Off The Boat, I would be
storyboarding in front of my co-workers, and then, at some point, the pill
would inevitably dissolve and melt into my underwear, and I had to act like
everything was OK, when everything was clearly not OK. And then, a side
effect of the progesterone was that it made me extremely itchy. So, then I had
to find ways to discretely scratch myself underneath the conference table, and
then resist the urge to immediately smell my fingers afterwards. I want to be
able to smell my fingers when I wanna smell my own goddamn fingers.
Housewives, they can just scratch and sniff all day long. They just vacuum,
scratch, sniff. They make a sandwich. “Uh, mmm.” They watch Property
Brothers, scratch, “What’s crackin’? Mmm.” Every time you scratch yourself,
all you can think about is, “When can I smell my fingers? When can I smell
my fingers? When can I discretely find a way to…” “…smell my fingers?”
Nature made you urgently curious to protect you, ’cause you gotta check
that it’s all good in the hood. If it’s too funky, you need to see a doctor. Your
fingers are your first WebMD.

When my husband and I were trying to have a kid, a lot of people were like,
“Oh, my God, that’s so hot. You guys doin’ a lot of fuckin’?” No, dude.
That’s– That’s shit you do in your 20s, OK? When in– When you’re in your
30s, and you’ve been trying to get pregnant for a while, it gets very clinical.
You pee on these ovulation strips that tell you when the eggs are droppin’. It
tells you when it’s Easter time. And I would only fuck him when it was
Easter time. It was, like, only four days out of the month, and outside of that,
I would be like, “We’re not fuckin’. I need you to save it. I want your sperm
to be as pent-up, and as angry and rapey as possible. So that, when they come
out, it’s like, ‘Release the Kraken!'” And they just come out like a bunch of
angry refugees escaping a dictatorship, you know? And, um… yeah, and most
of the time, like, we wouldn’t even have sex, ’cause I was so tired when I
would come home, and see the smiley face on the ovulation strip, and I’d be
like, “OK, it’s go time,” and I would just give my husband a hand job most of
the time, and he would close his eyes immediately. I know what that means,
OK? When somebody closes their eyes during sex, it’s not because they’re in
such ecstasy with you that– that they need to close their eyes. When
somebody closes their eyes during sex, it’s because they’re literally trying to
shut the image of your face out of their head and instead project two Latina
lesbians that they saw earlier that day on RedTube onto the back of their
eyelids. Which is fine by me, because then he doesn’t have to see the
expression on my face that says, “Please, hurry the fuck up.” And then, when
he was about to finish, I could always tell because the indication is very
universal when a man is about to finish. It’s when they get that… that
stupid-ass look on their face… …where they look like they just got bit by a
zombie, just… And then, because we’re hippies, I’d be like, “Hey, hey! Please
look me in the eye and remember to come with intention, OK?” And then, I
would jump on him, and hold onto his neck, and I would just twerk, twerk,
twerk the shit out of him… and do some of this shit that I learned in Atlanta.
And then I would turn upside down immediately afterwards… to make sure
all of that Harvard nectar would just drain inside of me. That’s right. ‘Cause
I don’t wanna work anymore.

I’m very grateful to be pregnant and to be… this far along, to be seven and a
half months pregnant, because, last year, I had a miscarriage, which is very
common. And a lot of women who are in their 20s flip out when they hear
that. They’re like, “Oh, my God. That’s so dark and terrible. I can’t believe
that.” I’m 33. Girl, when you’re 33, you’ll know plenty of women who have
had a miscarriage. It’s super common, and I wish more women would talk
about it so they wouldn’t feel so bad when they go through it. When I told
my mom– She’s from a third world country, and when I told her I had one,
she was like, “Uh, yeah. Where I’m from, that’s like losing a pair of shoes. It’s
whatevs, OK?” And everything happens for a reason. I found out at my
six-week sonogram, which is very early. And the doctor says to me, “Oh, my
God, I see two sacks, which means you’re having twins.” And I was like,
“No!” And then she said, “But what I don’t see is a heartbeat.” And I was
like, “Yes!” “The Lord is mysterious!” Don’t feel bad, OK? They were the size
of poppy seeds. I’ve picked boogers larger than the twins that I lost. And
most women won’t let their husbands watch when they’re going through a
miscarriage. I sat my husband down in front of me while I sat on the toilet,
and I was like, “You look.” “You watch the whole thing.” And he felt so bad
for me. And I used it as leverage and held that shit over his head for a month
and got him to do whatever the fuck I wanted him to do for 30 days. He took
me to see Beyoncé. He bought me a bike off of Craigslist. That’s my
miscarriage bike, and I love it very much. For 30 days, I finally had the
marriage I always wanted.

I’m scared about giving childbirth, though. I’m– I’m very, very scared of
childbirth. That’s why I’m going to hire a doula. You know what that is? You
know what a doula is? That’s a white hippie witch… …that blows quinoa into
your pussy to Keyser Söze all the pain away. A lot of women tried to freak me
out. They tried to freak me out about childbirth by saying, “Ali, did you
know that you’re gonna poop on the table?” I was like, “Yeah, I look forward
to it.” I’m all backed up from holding in my shit at work. I can’t wait to
cleanse. It makes sense, like, that you– that that happens because when
you’re in labor, you push, you push, you push, and your husband will be
asked to assist in the labor by lifting up your leg, which subsequently turns
into a soft serve lever. You just shit on the floor in front of the love of your
life. And just when you think that’s enough to make him finally leave you,
boom, a baby comes out, and he gotta stay. That’s the real miracle of life,
right there. I can already see how a child can really take its toll on a marriage,
because the baby hasn’t even come out yet and I am already so resentful
towards my husband. So much resentment, especially when he asks me to do
shit around the house. “Hey, can you wash the dishes?” “No!” “Can you
water the plants?” “I am not doing jack shit anymore. I’m busy makin’ a
eyeball, OK? Are you makin’ a foot? I didn’t think so. You change the
channel.”

I can already see how there’s, like, this crazy double standard in our society of
how it takes so little to be considered a great dad. And it also takes so little to
be considered a shitty mom. People praise my husband for coming to all of
my doctor’s appointments with me. “Oh, my God. I can’t believe he comes
to all your doctor’s appointments. He is so supportive.” Guess who else has
to go to those doctor appointments. Me! I’m the star of the show. There’s
nothing for the camera to see if I’m not there. But he’s the hero for playing
Candy Crush while I get my blood drawn. Meanwhile, if I do mushrooms
seven months pregnant, I’m a bad mommy.

You know, I– I– I, like, I berate my husband on, like, a daily basis. Partially
because I really am mad at him. But mostly out of survival, because if he
leaves me, I’m fucked. So, I have to chip away at his self-esteem on a daily
basis… to keep him down so that he doesn’t believe that he’s worthy of
another woman’s affection and leaves me. I gotta keep him around by
keeping him down. People don’t tell you about all this shit that goes down
with your body when you get pregnant, you know? Your nipples get huge
and dark. I didn’t know that. I didn’t know that they get dark so that the
baby can see, like, a bullseye. So that the baby can find it easier. And then,
you know, they get big– they get big, like fingers. Like, “You, you. You owe
me money, you.” My nipples look like Whoppers now, and naked, I look like
a Minion. But I’m not gonna be one of those crazy pregnant ladies who tries
to get all back in shape right after they get pregnant. No. Hopefully, if you
see me in a year, I will have the kind of body where, if I do a nude scene on
television, people will commend me for being courageous. For doing it.

Now that I’m seven and a half months pregnant, my pussy’s all wet again.
But it’s different. It’s not like when I was 18 years old, when it was like, really
hot, you know? And I was like, “Why is it different?” And I looked it up, and
my pussy’s all wet again because my– my body’s secreting mucus to protect
the baby from bacteria attacking it. That’s not the same. When it’s straight
up soldier glue, when it’s Neosporin.

So, you know, I– I, in– previously, before I met my husband, I had dated a
bunch of losers. And then, I meet this dream guy, who’s, like, way more
handsome than me, out of my league, graduated from Harvard Business
School. Worked hard to trap his ass. Got him to propose to me. Oh, my God,
then we got married, all my dreams coming true, and then we got pregnant,
and recently we bought our first home together. And, uh, two weeks into the
escrow process, I discovered that my beautiful, Harvard-educated husband
was $70,000 in debt. And me, with my hard-earned TV money, paid it all off.
So, as it turns out, he’s the one who trapped me. How did he do it? How did
he bamboozle me? Oh! Maybe because he went to Harvard Business School,
the epicenter of white-collar crime. He Enron’d my ass. And now, if I don’t
work, we die. Why else do you think I’m performing seven and a half months
pregnant?

All right, I’ve been Ali Wong. Have a good night, everybody. Thank you.
Don Wong (2022) | Transcript

Ali Wong discusses her deepest fantasies, the challenges of

monogamy, and her feelings about single people.

Ladies, gentlemen, and everybody, put your hands together. Please welcome

to the stage Ali Wong!

Hi, everybody! We love you, Ali! Thank you. You know, I’m very jealous and

bitter that when a man finds any ounce of mainstream success in comedy,

they get to date models, actresses, and pop singers. One of my dear friends is

arguably one of the top stand-up comics in the world. And for the past year

and a half, she’s been dating a magician. I was like, “Okay, you know, no

judgment, girl, but is he at least, like, a good magician?” “Is he, like, the best

magician like how you are one of the best stand-up comedians?” I looked
that dude up on Yelp, he got two stars. That’s what being one of the best

female stand-up comics will achieve you. A “ain’t shit” magician.

See, because when you are a woman with money, power, and respect, your

romantic options do not expand. They decline! Now, I am told it’s because

men are threatened by women with money, power, and respect. What do you

think is going to happen to you, huh? You think your dick is gonna get

acquired in a hostile takeover? I bet most men in this theater have never, ever

had your dick sucked by a woman that makes a lot more money than you.

And let me tell you something. It is spectacular, okay? It is. It is. Why

wouldn’t it be? If she got the skills to earn money, power, and respect, you

don’t think she got good pattern recognition? Those skills transfer. You

should feel so lucky, so flattered, so blessed and highly favored, if you ever had

the opportunity to get your dick sucked by a woman that makes a lot more

money than you. Because out of all the things this important woman could

be doing with her valuable time… Yeah. All of her responsibilities, all the

interesting opportunities and deals knocking at her door, but no. She chose

to get on her knees and stick your $40,000-a-year dick in her mouth… in your

Toyota Yaris.
But no. None of you, not a single man in here knows what it’s like to cum on

the face of a millionaire. Sure, you’ve gotten head. But have you ejaculated

onto a great American mind? Has your sperm swam in the eyes of an icon?

Have you been deep-throated by a voice of a generation? I don’t think so! It’s

highly unlikely that any man in here… Well, any straight man in here, knows

what it’s like to cum on the face of a millionaire. First of all, how many

female, self-made millionaires are there to begin with? And then out of that

pool, how many of them gonna let you cum on their face? There’s three of

us, okay? Yeah, I don’t even know who the other two are. You think Ellen

gonna let you cum on her face? You think Oprah gonna let you go to

Montecito and stomp on all her vegetables?

I love to get cummed on, on the face. I do. Because it’s so nasty and is so easy.

It is so easy, especially when you compare it to sucking dick, which is so

physically taxing. The choking, the eyes watering. And if you really want to

keep it 100, you got to add the pepper grinding. A lot, you know? Whenever

I get a deep tissue massage, the masseuse is always like, “Do you sit and work

at a computer all day?” I’m like, “No, I sucked dick last night.” “Now I can’t

look to the left.”

So in addition to all of that labor, when you suck dick, there is all of this

performing and pretending involved. You have to tell all of these lies. “This is

the biggest dick I’ve ever had in my mouth.” “I love sucking your cock. It

makes my pussy so wet.” “Yummy!” But you have to tell the lies to make the

man cum faster. The lies will set you free! But then when you get cummed

on on the face, your only job as the woman is to make an enthusiastic

expression. And then your other assignment is to not laugh… while this

grown-ass man is straddling your rib cage, he looking down at you, you

looking up at him, and you see him from this very unflattering angle where

he got that Jabba the Hutt double chin, you know? He all possessed by the

Holy Spirit. “Look at me, Mommy, watch me, pay attention, look at me!”

Young men in particular, they don’t like women with money, power, and

respect, because they know you can’t tell that kind of woman what to do.

Young men want a woman that’s chill. That’s a quality in a partner that they

seek out and brag about. “Bro, I’m dating this new chick.” “She’s so chill.”

“She doesn’t give a fuck about what I do ’cause she’s chill.” “She lets me do

whatever I want ’cause she’s dead inside.” “She’s chill.” “She’s like a corpse

with tits. It’s awesome.” “She’s chill.”

I have never, ever wanted to date a man that was chill. ‘Cause chill don’t pay

the bills. My nephew is 25 years old, and he is dating this architect. My

goodness, she is so smart and interesting, successful, and charismatic, and we

all hope that he marries her one day. But he called me up earlier this week and

he was like, “You know, Auntie Ali, I think I’mma break up with her.” “Yeah,

because she’s a boss at work, and so she thinks it’s okay to come home and

boss me around.” I was like, “Oh.” “Well, that shit’s gonna happen to you no

matter what.” “Whether she a boss, whether she employed or unemployed,

once you get married and have kids, your wife gonna boss you around.” “And

you would know that if you watched House Hunters.”

House Hunters is a show on HGTV where a couple pretends that there’s a

decision to be made together. And they go on this fake-ass journey looking at

three different houses, and the audience is meant to be left in suspense.

“Which house are they gonna choose?” It’s whichever one Barbara wanted in

the first place, okay? And Barbara, who lives in Boise, Idaho, or wherever the

fuck these HGTV shows are filmed where houses cost $5,000 an acre…

Barbara, she don’t got money, power, or respect. But Barbara is a woman,

and all women are very good at being extremely unpleasant… and holding
your happiness and self-esteem hostage until we get what we fucking deserve,

okay? Yes. That is a superpower that we evolved to compensate for our lack

of earning potential. You can’t tell any woman what to do, so you might as

well pick the bitch that will give you health insurance, okay?

I know exactly why there’s a disproportionate amount of men that do

stand-up. It’s all because of fan pussy. We call them chuckle fuckers. These

poor, naïve women who get dickmatized when they laugh. And fan pussy is

so motivating because fan pussy is young and sexy and exciting. Fan pussy is a

great reward for doing stand-up comedy. And fan dick is frightening. Any

man watching me, listening to what I have to say, and thinking to themselves,

“I want to fuck her…” is a raging psychopath. And has extremely good taste.

Fan dick is not interested in showing me a good time. Fan dick wants to trim

my pubes and sew them into wigs for his antique doll collection. That’s why

I don’t see more women doing stand-up. There is no reward, only danger and

punishment. Lot of my male stand-up comic friends be hooking up with

women, beautiful, gorgeous women, through the DMs. Direct messaging. I

never check my DMs. And when I do, it’s only to see if Sanrio, the owners of

Hello Kitty, have finally contacted me to offer sponsorship. Yeah. Come on!
I think I’d be a great fit, and I want all of that shit. I want the Gudetama

pajamas. I want the erasers that smell like the gum. And I want the gum that

tastes like the erasers. I want all of that shit. But no. My DMs are full of these

Silence of the Lambs motherfuckers. It’s these dudes who always have zero

followers. Do you know anybody who doesn’t know anybody? They don’t

even offer to take me out to dinner or lick my pussy. They just threaten to

decapitate me if I don’t let them smell my feet.

And it’s a shame, you know? It’s very disturbing, this disparity in quality

between fan pussy and fan dick. It is so upsetting to a person like me. Because

I think about cheating on my husband… every five minutes. I haven’t done it

yet. Not because I’m a good person, only because no worthy opportunity has

presented itself.

My mom doesn’t understand, she can’t relate to these feelings of wanting to

fool around outside of your marriage, because she’s an immigrant woman

who was born in 1940. Her world is a lot smaller than mine. The only men

my mother has ever had an actual conversation with are my brother and my

dad. That’s it. I, on the other hand, have met the entire cast of The Avengers.

And I want all of them to cum on my face. I think I’m going through a
mid-life crisis. Having two C-sections and being the breadwinner of my

family has turned me into a 50-year-old man. I had a colonoscopy a couple

years ago. That is some 50-year-old man shit right there. What had happened

was I, all of a sudden, got extremely bloated over a very short period of time.

And it was so extreme to the point where I thought I was pregnant again.

And I took a test, and it was negative. And then my OBGYN became very

concerned that I was showing symptoms of ovarian cancer, because it runs in

my family. And so then she ordered a CT scan, and the results came back.

And she said to me, “Okay, Ali.” “Well, you know, the good news is that you

don’t have ovarian cancer, okay? And then…” “The bad news is that, Ali, you

are full of shit.” “Stop giggling, Ali, stop it. This is serious, okay?” On the

report, the radiologist wrote, “The results are remarkable.” Which, to me,

seems like the radiologist gave me an A++. She was like, “No, that’s bad.”

When the radiologist writes “The results are remarkable,” what that

translates to is, “Oh my goodness, I don’t understand how this tiny

Vietnamese mom fit this football field of doo-doo inside of her body.” “I

have never seen this in my 30 years as a radiologist, and I cannot wait to text

screenshots of this to all my radiologist friends.” So then a GI specialist was

called in, and I saw her look at the results, and she went like this. And then
she turns to me and says, “Miss Wong, I am so sorry that I gasped in front of

your face.” “That was so unprofessional of me.” “I know exactly who you

are.” “Please do not talk about how I just did that on stage.” “But, you know,

I have to admit that I’m clearly alarmed by what I see here.” “You are backed

up well into your small intestine, and I’m almost certain that there is some

sort of mass, and most likely a tumor that’s causing all of this blockage.” “So

we’re going to have to perform a colonoscopy to see what’s going on in

there.” I was like, “Why? You guys just did a CT scan.” And she was like,

“Yes, it is true that the whole point of a CT scan is to see inside of your body,

but the lasers couldn’t penetrate the Great Wall of Shit that’s inside you.”

“And they just ricocheted and bounced back into the machine, and now the

machine is shook, so… we’re going to have to stick a camera up your ass.”

And I was so nervous. But what I didn’t know was that right before the

procedure, they give you propofol. And I have to say that as a working

mother of two… getting to take a drug-induced nap for an hour… was well

worth having a news crew up my butt. It was luxurious. When I woke up

from the colonoscopy, I was like, “I want another colonoscopy.” And then it

turned out that my colon was perfectly healthy, and I figured out that what

caused that huge traffic jam was the summer before, I was shooting this
movie called Always Be My Maybe. Oh, thank you. Yeah, it was a big-ass deal

because it was the first movie I had ever co-written and starred in as the lead.

And I worked on it for 12 hours a day, every day for six weeks straight, and I

was so busy that I forgot to take a shit… for six weeks. The movie shot in

Vancouver and in San Francisco, and I have no recollection of shitting in

Vancouver or in San Francisco. I just straight up forgot. Something like that

would never happen to a man. Men, you never forget to take a shit ever. Ever.

How could you, when you sit on the toilet and have your sacred ritual every

morning to summon the shit? You sit there from 8:00 a.m. to 8:30 a.m. You

sit there with all of your reading materials, your iPad battery just burning up

the sperm in your balls. You sit there at the most crucial time of the day,

when your wife and kids need you and the bathroom the most. You sit there

to avoid reality and all of your responsibility in life. You’re too scared to ask

your wife for alone time, so instead you just passively-aggressively take it by

chasing your wife and kids out of the bathroom with the stank of your

selfish-ass shit! Women, we don’t do that, okay? We have too much guilt and

shame to sit there every morning at the same time to summon the shit.

Instead, the shit comes to us at the most inconvenient time of the day. When

we’re in the middle of a meeting, or onstage taping our third Netflix special.
But when you feel that first turtle head peek out, you gotta squeeze your butt

cheeks in, suck the poo-poo back up into your generous, loving,

self-sacrificing soul. But then at some point, you gots to go, and then it’s an

emergency. It’s always an emergency when a woman finally takes a shit, and

that’s why every woman’s public restroom looks like a post-apocalyptic

zombie nightmare, where there is blood on the walls and pizza on the record

player. My life has changed dramatically in the past seven years. Seven years

ago, I pressured the shit out of my then-boyfriend to propose to me. Every

day, I was in his ear… “When you going to ask me to marry you?” “I’m not

gonna wait forever!” “Everybody wants this pussy.” Nobody else wanted this

pussy, but I had to make up these fairy tales to add pizzazz to the ultimatum,

you know? It was crazy, but my wish came true. He proposed, we got

married. We bought a house, had two kids. Fast-forward to seven years later,

present day, I’m like, “I don’t know why I did that.” I think that what

happened was at the time, my future in comedy was looking very uncertain,

you know? I was really struggling. Like, I was eating cough drops for dessert.

It was so sad. And I panicked. I was like, “I don’t know if I can make it in this

world on my own.” “So I better trap this dude who graduated from Harvard

Business School so that I don’t end up homeless.” But now, I know that I can
make it on my own. So I kind of want to just be on my own. Only other

married people with kids can empathize with the deep envy I feel towards

you single people, okay? You don’t know how free you are. You can eat an

edible at 2:00 p.m., go to the aquarium and watch the jellyfish go back and

forth. You don’t gotta bring a giant bag with little Ziploc baggies of Goldfish,

and toy cellphones. You can just go with what’s in your pockets. You single

people, you don’t know what it’s like to eat a cold quesadilla that your

toddler threw on the floor, because it’s easier to put it in your mouth than

travel to the trash, while you repeat to yourself over and over that child abuse

is illegal! You single people, if you’re romantically involved with somebody,

and then all of a sudden, that somebody reveals a personality trait that you

don’t like, you could just leave. Move to another city and never see their

stupid face again. Because you didn’t make a promise in front of your

grandma and all your coworkers and ask your friends to buy you an Instant

Pot. You didn’t fuse your DNA to create human life that will forever ask you,

“Where’s Daddy?” You single people, you don’t have to go on a playdate,

which is basically a blind date that your toddler sets you up on… with some

bitch you have zero chemistry with. You single people, you don’t have to be

nice to your mother because you need her for babysitting. You don’t have to
smile and listen to all of this unsolicited parenting advice from this woman

who neglected the shit out of you… because you want time to yourself to

binge Bridgerton to feel alive again. Like you single people, I, too, was once

free, okay? And then like an idiot, I asked this dude to ask me to go to prison.

And now I’m in monogamy jail, and I don’t know how to get out.

Monogamy made sense when we lived until we were 40 years old. Yeah, I’m

39 right now, so if you told me that I had to do this shit for another year, I’d

be like, “Yeah, I could do that.” “I can rub it out to Aquaman for another

year, it’s fine.” “It’s no big deal.” But as an Asian woman, I’m gonna live until

I’m 95 years old. That’s not even a joke, okay? that is statistically probable.

My husband and I are the same age. He’ll most likely die when he’s 85. So

between 85 and 95 is when I’m morally allowed to fuck other people again.

It’s too late. ‘Cause at the age of 75 is when Asian women finally turn into an

owl. You know what I’m talking about. Their tattooed eyebrows turn green

and shit. They go bald, and then the few strands that are left, they perm the

shit out of to make it more Jhirmack “bounce back.” And then they become

obsessed with dried jujubes and just walk around in down jackets all day like

this. I want to fuck other people now… before I metamorphosize into a nut

sack with a visor. You want to cheat with me? You want to fuck around with
me? You better give me two weeks’ notice, okay? ‘Cause you gotta give me

time to go shopping for new underwear. I’ve been with the same dude for the

last 10 years. So all my underwear looks like it’s been snacked on by rats. Just

looks like wardrobe from Les Miserables, okay? Like a tattered sail of a pirate

ship. The elastic? Gone. So the crotch area hangs about five inches below my

actual pussy, like a Indiana Jones suspension bridge, like a hammock in the

Blue Bayou, okay? You want to fuck around with me? Let me know, so I got

time to go to Target and get that sweet five-for-20 Xhilaration panty deal.

Merona, whatever’s on sale. In our society, there is no word for a male

mistress. That’s how taboo it is for women to cheat on their husbands. The

only word I’ve ever heard is sancho, yes, because Mexican women cheat on

their husbands, because their culture is mucho más mejor. Es la verdad, okay?

It is. I’ve been saying this about Mexican people and Mexican culture for a

long time. I’m like the Little Mermaid. I want to be part of your Telemundo,

okay? Yes. Si se puede, con permiso, let me in. Come on. I like Fabuloso,

okay? I like storing my pots and pans in the oven. Yeah. I like squeezing lime

juice on everything. I like hickeys. I love hickeys. Generally, our society is very

unforgiving of women who cheat on their husbands, and at the same time,

it’s so forgiving of men who cheat on their wives. Somehow money, power,
and respect will earn a man the right to cheat. People will come to his defense

and say, “Oh, how could he be expected to resist all of that fan pussy?” “He is

so awesome, he deserves to cheat.” For women, no matter how much money,

power, or respect you earn, you are never allowed to behave badly and get

away with it. But that’s all I want to do. I want to have it all. I want to have a

family, a career, and a side piece. The greatest trick women ever played on

ourselves was making us believe that having it all was limited to having a

family and a career. I got both of those things. Newsflash, it’s not enough.

Necesito más. I don’t just want equal pay, I want equal pleasure. But it would

be very threatening if all women wanted and felt like they deserved that,

because then a bunch of women wouldn’t be available to helping their

husbands make their lives as easy as possible. Do you know how much more

successful I would be if I had a wife? Some loving, devoted woman by my

side who bought a bunch of fruit besides bananas? And put the duvet cover

on the duvet? People don’t like it when women cheat, you know, and they’ll

really turn on you because they feel betrayed, especially if you’re a mom. It’s

too contrary to your wholesome, loving image. And that’s why I’m trying to

let all of you know now… that I’m a real piece of shit, okay? I want you to

really listen to me and understand this and believe me, so that you’re not
shocked or surprised, so that you don’t abandon me when you see the TMZ

video of my face getting fire-hosed by Michael B. Jordan… while I chant,

“Wakanda forever!” I think another reason why a lot of women are hesitant

to cheat is because it’s too high stakes to put your family, your reputation,

your life as you know it on the line, all for the probability that you most

likely will not have an orgasm. Very difficult to make a woman, especially a

new woman, cum. It’s so annoying. It’s a design flaw. There’s too many

factors. There’s too much shit that has to align. The lighting, the

temperature, the news. You can’t be all up in your head about the global

supply chain being backed up. I don’t deserve to cum when the Dow Jones is

down 500 points and I still don’t understand what cryptocurrency is. Who

can cum in times like these? So in order for a woman to cum, all this shit has

to align, right? And then on top of that, the dude got to have skills. He gotta

have great timing. He gotta know how to come in real slow and soft and

romantic and tenderoni in the beginning… and then get real rapey by the

end. In, like, a consensual way, of course. But a lot of dudes, they fuck that

timing up, right? They come out the gates guns blazing, like Braveheart

coming over the hill, just… “Mortal Kombat!” And you’re like, “Okay, I’m

bleeding and… think you rubbed my clit off onto the floor, and now it’s lost
with the dust bunnies.” And then some dudes, they do the opposite, right?

They maintain this whole, like, candlelit, walk-on-the-beach energy… Close

your eyes Make a wish …throughout the entire course of the sex, and it’s like,

“Nah, dude. In the last 30 seconds, I need you to put me in a headlock and

say racist shit to me. Okay?” “Yeah.” “Yeah, I want my eyebrows to fly off my

face, and I want you to degrade me until I go deaf and mute at the same

time.” “You gotta shape-shift, bro.” Nothing more satisfying to a woman

then when a man goes through a sudden and extreme transformation that

she is responsible for. You know, would be such a shame to go through all

that trouble of cheating to end up having to fake an orgasm. In fact, I don’t

think any of us women should be faking orgasms anymore. Yeah. No more

faking orgasms. I mean, you really think about it, that is some nutty-ass shit

that we women do. That’s a skill that you taught yourself. That wasn’t passed

down to you from your mother. You taught yourself to do that shit out of

survival. And it is wildly indicative of how terrified we women are of

offending a man, that we would rather fake an orgasm than simply say…

“Hey, I just want to go home.” “This is so not awesome.” “And I feel like I’ve

really tried to tell you where to put it, where not to put it, how fast, how

slow, and you straight up just don’t listen, you know, so… I’d really like to
just go back to my house and fold clothes.” Men are so much more

incentivized to cheat because you’re going to cum no matter what. It’s so

easy for a man to cum. All you need is a wet hole. You don’t even need that!

Men love to jerk off in front of women all the time. I’ve seen, like, 70 men

jack off in my lifetime. Men love to show you their masturbation practice.

But for me, you know, if a man is not performing at the caliber I need him to

perform at, I’m not all of a sudden going to leap onto his neck and start

fingering myself over his face, you know? Like, “Oh, you have erectile

dysfunction?” “No problem. I got it.” “Let me just dangle my pubes, my

long-ass pandemic pubes over your forehead and squirt into your nose hole.

You don’t like it?” “Who cares? Who’s gonna believe you, you young,

powerless boy?” I’d be like, “What the fuck am I doing?” So if you haven’t

seen the movie, it’s a romantic comedy… where I play a celebrity chef who

falls back in love with her childhood friend. And in the movie, my character

hooks up with three different, very good-looking, very iconic, very sexy Asian

American men. I know, it’s like, who wrote this thing, right? Like… Whose

idea was this? And while shooting, all of my girlfriends kept on asking me,

“Okay, Ali, on the DL, you gonna hook up with one of your costars?” You

know, I came this close… to fucking the food consultant. It was this
29-year-old Persian dude who had tattoos all over his arms and his chest, and

when the wind blew, oh my God, he was so ripped, you could see everything.

You could see the King’s Hawaiian, you could see the cum gutters pointing

you straight to the kingdom of heaven. You could see it all, you know? And

we spent one Sunday morning butchering 18 raw chickens. That shit was like

the “Unchained Melody” scene from Ghost… but with salmonella. He had

his arms wrapped around me, and I almost sliced my hand off, because I

could feel his 29-year old dick getting hard up against my spine. Yeah. See, the

pussy can fake a orgasm, but the dick don’t lie. I felt that biology and that

truth right up against my back. I did not feel violated. I felt victorious. I did.

As, like, a 39-year-old woman with two C-section scars, I was like, “Oh my

God, I am so powerful.” “I changed density, motherfucker, what!” “I am a

wizard! I’m a blood bender! I could be in Avatar.” “Let’s go, Appa. Let’s go

find Zuko and make out! Let’s go!” And I went back to my hotel that

afternoon and I pull down my pants, and my underwear… looked like the

bottom of a bird cage. It’s a mystery to me why Hello Kitty hasn’t contacted

me yet, you know? It’s like, come on, what’s up? When I saw that in my

underwear, when I saw those loogies, I was like, “Oh my God, I still got it!”

There is still supply, given that there is fresh demand, okay? If you don’t
understand the supply and demand metaphor, what I’m trying to tell you is

my body still produces pussy juice, people. Okay? And it was good pussy

juice too. It was sparkly and glistening. Viscous but not too pasty. Pungent

but not too dank, it was… It was. I took a little fun dip in there, that shit

tasted like LaCroix Pamplemousse. It was quality. It could’ve sealed up all the

holes in my underwear like Gorilla Glue, it was…

You know, as much as I would love to cheat on my husband, I cannot afford

to get a divorce. I can’t, you know? The reality is, I need my husband way

more than he needs me. It is ten times harder to find a decent husband than it

is to find a great wife. It’s so fucking annoying, you know? I’m almost 40, so I

have all these, like, acquaintances getting divorced right now. All these

women, they keep coming up to me… “Ali, it is so difficult dating out there

for a divorced woman.” “None of these men can handle me, a strong

woman.” “None of these men want a strong woman.” I’m like, “You’re an

annoying woman, but…” I do believe that it’s slim pickings out there, you

know?

And then these women, they keep telling me about their battle and how ugly

it is, how they’re fighting for full custody of their kids. I’m like, “Why?” Even
half custody sounds like American Horror Story. I can’t let go of my

husband, you know? He’s very handsome, he’s very sexy, he’s very much my

type. I have a very specific type. I like dudes who look as close to Keanu

Reeves as possible. Yeah. And that’s my husband, straight up. He’s so

good-looking, he’s so interesting. He speaks three different languages. He

introduced me to mushrooms and ayahuasca, changed my life. So in addition

to being my husband, he’s also my drug dealer. I can’t lose that Shaman

connect, you know? My husband’s so smart. He went to Carnegie Mellon,

Harvard Business School. He’s a Fulbright scholar. He was smart enough to

choose me, to invest in me, when I was 20 pounds heavier, had chronic acne

and no money. He bought low. And if we get divorced, he going to sell high.

I can’t let him get away with that!

So my husband, he’s all of these wonderful things, right? But most

importantly, he gives me permission to be myself. Which perhaps, for a wild,

untamable spirit, is the most important quality to find in a man. But people

think it’s so difficult for my husband to do something so simple as giving me

permission to be myself. They always ask him, “Oh my God, how do you feel

about your wife Ali going up on stage in front of all of these strangers,
talking about how much she wants to cheat on you?” You know, right now

while we’re all here, my husband is at home in the house that I bought…

telling time on the Rolex I got him for Father’s Day… jacking off to porn that

he streams on the high-speed internet I pay for every month. So, he always

tells me… “Yeah, you go ahead, you know you…” He doesn’t give a shit about

what I say on stage because he’s too busy living the life I wanted for myself.

I’m the one leaning in while he is lying down. And now that I’m the clear

breadwinner, he don’t choke me like he used to. It’s too high stakes if I die.

I’ll be like, “Harder, come on, harder!” And he’ll be like, “But I really want a

PS5.” “It’s all sold out, and the waitlists and the ports are all full.” People like

to assume that because my husband is very spiritual and because he’s Asian

American, that he’s some kind of softy, when the truth is he got this

backbone made of pure, solid steel. He is a motherfucker. And whenever we

get into an argument and I raise my voice, he’ll look me in the eye and say to

me, “Oh, you don’t talk to me like that.” And then I’ll be like… “I’mma suck

your dick.” “You put me in my place again.” “And then you give me

permission to be myself, and then you tell me what to do, and then you

celebrate me.” And that, single people, is what a healthy marriage looks like,

okay?
Single Lady (2024) | Transcript

Divorced comedian Ali Wong explores the challenges of single

life and finding new love in her raunchy stand-up special Single

Lady.

[“Get me Bodied (Extended Mix)” playing]

[audience cheering]

♪ Mission one, I’ma put this on ♪

♪ When he see me in the dress I’ma get me some, hey ♪

♪ Mission two, gotta make that call… ♪

[audience cheering]

♪ Mission three Got my three best friends ♪

♪ Like we do it all the time We gon’ do it again, hey ♪

♪ Mission four Got the vintage Rolls ♪

♪ Drop a couple hundreds Tell him, “Leave it at the door” ♪

♪ I ain’t worried, doin’ me tonight ♪

♪ A little sweat ain’t never hurt nobody ♪

♪ While y’all standin’ on the wall I’m the one tonight gettin’ bodied… ♪

Oh, hi, Los Angeles.

[audience cheering]
[laughing] Thank you so much for coming tonight. It’s been a very

interesting past two years. I got divorced in 2022.

[audience cheering]

Oh, my God, thank you so much. It didn’t feel like that at the time.

[audience laughing]

And I didn’t expect the news of my divorce to be so widespread and public,

and I felt really embarrassed and ashamed. But I didn’t realize that all of these

media outlets were acting like a Bat-Signal, letting all potentially interested

men know…

[audience laughing]

…that I was suddenly available. And I’ve never been pursued this much in my

life.

[audience cheering]
Oh, my God. It’s very, very exciting and quite shocking, because boys, they

never liked me growing up. In the ’90s, in high school, guys, they weren’t

into charismatic A cups.

[audience laughing]

But things have changed, and now there’s all these men after my

divorced-mom energy.

[audience cheering]

Yes. A divorced mom is very special because she doesn’t want commitment.

[audience laughing]

She doesn’t wanna have your kids. A divorced mom just wants to get dicked

down.

[audience laughing, cheering]

[men whooping]
I don’t care how many brain cells you have. I don’t care if you pronounce

hors d’oeuvres “whores devours.”

I don’t care.

[audience laughing]

No me importa. I don’t care, as long as you have a huge boner for me all the

time. I need you to have a huge boner that’s gonna poke my brain. I need you

to smash my frontal cortex over and over and just tenderize all of my fear and

paranoia about AI technology. Just… Bam-bam-bam-bam-bam-bam-bam!

[audience cheering]

I’m not trying to trap a man anymore. Mm-mm. I’m trying to catch a

concussion.

[audience laughing]

Yes. I’m trying to drink cranberry juice on the regular, okay?

[audience laughing]

That’s right. When I introduce myself to new men, I’m trying to say hello

like this, “Hey. How you doing? Come here.” “I wanna talk to you. I got a

question for you.” “Have you had a vasectomy?”

[audience laughing]

[chuckles softly] Uh, I really went on a tear when I first got divorced. You

missed it. I was on sale.

[chuckles]

[audience laughing]

I’d been married for ten years, so I had that, like, “just got out of prison”

energy, you know? And my standards were strategically low. Like the less hair

on the head, the more hair on the body, the better.

[audience laughs]
I was hunting for a dude that was shaped like a straight-up squash.

[audience laughing]

[man] I’m here!

‘Cause you know what kind of energy that dude’s bringing to the bedroom?

Gratitude.

[audience laughing]

He will eat your pussy long, long time.

[audience laughing]

And you will be free of that guilt, that concern that you’re taking too long to

finish. Instead, you’re like, “Yeah, you stay down there, you lucky mediocre

man, you.”

[audience laughing]
I do have some standards when it comes to getting dicked down, like you

gotta pay for the first date. Yeah, come on, man. You gotta pay for the first

date. I know that sounds crazy, because I’m a millionaire.

[audience laughing]

[audience cheering]

Oh. [chuckles] I am. Don’t let this Midsummer outfit fool you now, okay?

I’m a millionaire, straight up. But you still gotta pay for the first date, because

you gotta show me that you understand basic investment strategy.

[audience laughing]

The money will come back to you, okay? Trust and believe. If you have faith

in your product, and it performs well on the market and stays up… the cost

of those tapas and that cacio e pepe will seem like nothing when I get you a

two-bedroom condo in Reseda, okay?

[audience laughing]
Yeah, Los Angeles proper, that’s too expensive. But Reseda…

[audience laughing]

I’ll get you stainless steel appliances, side-by-side two-car parking. I’ll get you

a TOTO toilet. Ooh, you know what a TOTO toilet is?

[audience cheering]

Yeah. A TOTO toilet is this magical Japanese toilet. The seat is always warm,

and then when you sit on it, Hello Kitty and Godzilla emerge and go like

this… [babbling] …to your butthole, okay?

[audience laughing]

You know how expensive that is to get Hello Kitty and Godzilla to link arms

and double-team your taint after you take a shit?

[audience laughing]
Hello Kitty doesn’t even have a mouth. [audience laughing] But I can make

the impossible possible, you know? [audience laughing] Listen, if I get you

that two-bedroom condo in Reseda, you better be at that two-bedroom

condo in Reseda, available to dick me down when I am finished performing

at the Wiltern in my nightgown, okay?

[audience cheering]

Yes. You better be there, because you cannot be both poor and busy.

[audience laughing]

That is an unacceptable combination. Why don’t we just add ugly and anger

management issues while we’re at it?

[audience laughing]

And I better not catch you subletting that second bedroom. [audience

laughing] In 2022, I joined a dating app. I really did. And I paid $250 up

front for the entire year. Because then you save $5 a month.
[audience laughing]

I might be rich, but I’m still Chinese.

[woman] Yeah!

Yes.

[audience applauding]

I still suffer from scarcity mindset. I am still so devastatingly cheap. Like, I

will drink soy milk long past its expiration date, when it has transformed into

tofu. I will pour that on my Shredded Wheat. I will. I maintain a friendship

with a woman that I hate simply because she has a lemon tree. [audience

laughing hysterically]

[woman] Yes!

The day after I joined that app, I get a phone call from this dude who I had

met at, like, two dinner parties in the past. And he got my number from a
mutual friend, a mutual colleague, and he was like, “Hey, Ali.” [chuckles

softly] “I just happened to hear the news of your divorce today, and I gotta

tell you… I’m excited.” [audience laughing] “I am, Ali, because, look, I have

had a crush on you forever, and I actually told my best friend years ago that

you were my dream girl.” “And I know this sounds crazy, but, uh… I want

you to be my girlfriend.” [audience exclaims softly] And I was like… “I just

paid $250.”

[audience laughing]

“You seem really nice, but… I gotta get my money’s worth.” [audience

laughing] Shortly after that phone call, I take off to Europe. I arrive in

London and discovered that this man had sent me a bouquet of flowers that

was this big. And then I get to Amsterdam, and he sent me a bouquet of

flowers that was this big. And then I get to Cologne. He sent a flower

arrangement the size of me. And then in my final destination, Copenhagen,

he sent me six giant flower arrangements. [gasps] I told all my girlfriends, and

they were like, “Oh, my God, that is so sweet. I am so jealous.” And then I

told all my male friends, and they were like, “That dude sounds like a

psychopath.” [audience laughing] “Hey, are you okay, Ali? Do you feel safe?”
[audience laughing] That’s how cheap and lazy men have become, that now,

when a fellow man commits any act of kindness, any romantic gesture, it

must be a symptom of an undiagnosed mental illness.

[audience laughing]

It is true that boys, they never liked me growing up. I was always too loud. I

had a mustache. They called me “booger girl” because I picked my nose all

the time. So it was very cruel, but very accurate, you know? [audience

laughing] And now I’m 42, I’m a mother, and something has truly shifted in

my favor. And I think that what happened was that… Men, you know, when

you’re in your twenties, all you wanna date is a ten, right? At that age, you

don’t care about the content of a woman’s character. You don’t care about

her creative output. Uh… You know, the ultimate status symbol when you’re

young is to just date a beautiful, busty ten. And then when men become 40,

you’re like, “I don’t wanna date a ten anymore.”

[audience laughing]
“All I want is a kind six… [audience cheering] …that earns at least, like,

$15,000 a year, and is generally a peaceful person.” [audience laughing] But

you’re too late, ’cause all the kind sixes have been snatched up. And it’s not

the status symbol it used to be. It’s not necessarily a good look to date a ten

anymore. Nowadays, when we’re 40, you bring some hot unfunny dummy to

dinner, all the women of substance at the table are now mad at you because

we have to babysit this bitch. [audience laughing] While, you’re here

outsourcing for intellectual stimulation and giggles, we’re the ones who have

to listen to her boring ass stories about cauliflower rice and the power of

crystals. [audience laughing]

[audience whooping]

Uh-uh. You have ruined dinner for us, and now we’ve all lost respect for you

because you have revealed that you have bad taste! [audience laughing] The

worst part about being a female stand-up comedian is having to socialize with

male stand-up comedians’ girlfriends. Oh, my God. It’s so painful. It’s worse

than being sexually harassed. So many wasted hours of my life having to sit

next to these Instahoes. These Instahoes who prey on my friend because he’s

so ugly. He’s been ugly his whole life, and no woman who looks like that has
ever looked at him. And these Instahoes, they’re smart. They know that the

day is coming when these sunscreen companies stop paying them to pose in a

thong on an inflatable doughnut.

[audience laughing]

So to look out for their future, they sink their pussy teeth into my friend’s

bald ass head until he can’t think for himself anymore, because they know he

has a potential to go far with his podcast and not sign a prenup. [audience

laughing] And because I’m a kind six, I listen to them. I listen to them!

[audience laughing] [exhales] And because I’m a decent actress, they think

I’m actually listening, when really, I’m just looking at them in the eye and

smiling, but in my head I’m composing my wish list for Amazon Prime Day.

[audience laughing]

I have to say, it’s very nice to feel so loved and adored after being ignored by

men for so long. And I’ve received all sorts of nice gifts from suitors in the

past two years. I’ve received flowers, bags, jewelry. My girlfriends were like,

“Oh, my God.” [scoffs] “Jewelry?” “But, Ali, how can you accept that?” I’m
like, “Oh, it’s easy. I just accept it, you know?” [audience laughing] “It’s the

easiest thing I’ve ever done in my life.” “What’s not to accept? It’s beautiful,

valuable, and free.” “That’s a Chinese fairy tale. I’mma take it.”

[audience laughing]

[audience applauding, cheering]

I don’t see how refusing 24-karat gold is the more empowering option. It’s

not like when these dudes give you a necklace, then make you sign a contract,

being like, “Okay, if you accept this necklace, then you agree to suck my

dick.” [audience laughing] No! You just say, “Oh, my God, Trevor.” “This is

so thoughtful of you. This is beautiful.” “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

And then you just take the necklace and then you walk away… [audience

laughing] Or you suck their dick. It’s up to you. What do you wanna do?

[audience laughing] It’s your choice. But either way, keep the necklace.

[audience laughing] I became so addicted to courtship, that I developed this

problem where I kept on breaking up with dudes after three weeks. After

three weeks, that’s when they start to relax. That’s when the flowers stop
coming. That’s when they stop initiating going down on you. [gasps] You’re

fired, bro. You’re fired.

[audience laughing]

Mm-mm. I don’t actually say “you’re fired,” okay? What I say is, “Hey.”

[chuckles softly] “I can’t tell you what the past three weeks have meant to

me.” “You have given me what I didn’t even know I needed.” “And, my God,

you are such a beautiful, special human being.” “And I just feel like it’s time

for me to really focus on my work and my family.” And blah, blah, blah!

Right? [audience whooping] And the last dude I split with was this big,

fancy movie director, and he had a very movie director response to my

speech. He was like, “That feels false.”

[chuckles]

[audience laughing] “That feels false, Ali.” “Why don’t you tell me why

you’re really breaking up with me.” I was like, “Okay, fine.” “Well, you know

it’s because the last two times we hooked up, you didn’t initiate going down

on me, and I didn’t really like that.” [audience laughing] And he was like,
“Well… [chuckles] …why didn’t you just communicate that to me?” I was

like, “Oh.” “Well, because I’m divorced.” “I don’t do that anymore.”

[audience laughing] Communicate? That’s married-people shit, okay? I’m

retired from that. You think I got divorced from one man to communicate

obvious shit to another man?

[audience cheering]

[cackling] Fuck that lateral step. I’m out here for a lifestyle change, okay? You

think I went through the shame and stigma of divorce to be out here in these

streets, saying shit to myself like, “Oh!” “Sometimes the right thing to say is

the hard thing to say”? [audience laughing] You know, especially when it

comes to initiating giving head to a woman. That’s not something that

should happen upon request. It’s steps on the initiation. I refuse… I refuse in

the middle of kissing a man to say to him… [in deep voice] “Eat my pussy.”

[audience laughing]

How humiliating. [in deep voice] “Eat my pussy.” [in normal voice] What am

I, a villain in a Disney movie? [in deep voice] “Fee-fi-fo-fum.” “Eat my pussy.”

[audience laughing] Do I have to spell out all the basics to you? [in deep

voice] “Eat my pussy.” “Compliment my looks.” “Wish me a happy

birthday.”

[in normal voice] It’s like…

[audience laughing] [chuckles] I came up with that joke while breaking up

with that director in real time… [audience laughing] [audience cheering]

[laughs] …out loud in front of his face. [audience laughs] [chuckles] As soon

as he was like, [mimicking] “Why don’t you just communicate that to me?” I

was like, “Well, what am I supposed to say?” [in deep voice] “Eat my pussy?”

[laughs] [audience laughing] And then I started marching around all the

pretentious ass sculptures in his living room. I was like, “Fee-fi-fo-fum.”

“Lick my taint, or I’ll blow your house down.” [audience laughing] My God,

and I was laughing so hard at how hilarious I was being. And I was so excited

that I had just come up with this joke that I could make money off of later. I

was like, “Ooh!” We turned that into lemonade real fast, you know?

[audience laughing]

[laughing]
[audience cheering, applauding] Yeah. And I was so busy having fun with

myself, I wasn’t paying any attention to him. And then I finally looked up,

and he was like, “That’s not funny, Ali.” [audience laughs] “Come on, that’s

really rude. You know, that’s not funny at all.” “Uh… All right, I guess you

don’t know this, but, Ali, no one has ever broken up with me before.” “And,

you know, there’s a reason for that.” “So I hope you know that if you do this,

you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your life.” “Because, Ali, you’re never

gonna find somebody like me.” I was like, “Yeah, that’s what I’m hoping.

That’s the whole point of breaking up.” “I don’t wanna be with you or

anybody like you again.” “You don’t initiate giving head, and you didn’t

laugh at ‘fee-fi-fo-fum.'” That’s two red flags.

[audience laughing]

[audience cheering]

And then he says to me, “All right, you know what, Ali?” “I’m in a really bad

place right now, and I swear to God, if you’re serious, like, if you really

actually mean this, I might kill myself.” [audience exclaiming softly] I was

like, “Go for it.” [audience laughing] “Either way, we’re not gonna be
together.” “So same same, but different.” [audience laughing] And then I

said to him, “I don’t actually mean that, okay?” “I think you’re a good

person. We’re just a bad match.” “And please save your energy and refrain

from threatening me.” “You don’t seem to understand.” “I’m a financially

independent divorced mom.”

Yeah.

[audience cheering]

“So, I’m not looking for someone to build a life with, okay?” “I’m not scared

to die alone.” [audience laughing] “And breaking up with you is so easy

compared to divorce.” “We don’t have property together, we don’t have

kids.” “So breaking up with you is nothing.” “It’s like putting down a burrito

when I’m full.” “It’s nada.” [audience laughing] “But thank you so much

again for the necklace.” “I love it so much.”

“And…

[audience cheering]
I’m going to cherish it for the rest of my life until I sell it on The RealReal,

a’ight?” [chuckles] ‘Cause I’m telling you, after you get divorced, three weeks

is perfect. After that, I don’t like it when shit gets too real, when these dudes

start to say things to me like, “You know, Ali, I just… I really feel like I can be

myself around you.” I’m like, “Please don’t, okay?” “Please just be the best

parts of yourself, and then repress all the shitty parts.” “Save that for your

friends and family who are gonna be there for you if you get diagnosed with

cancer.” “‘Cause I’m not gonna be there, okay?” “I don’t know you, man. It’s

been three weeks.” “It’s still unclear to me if you’re Filipino or Cambodian.”

“I don’t know you!”

[audience laughing]

“Know you!” You know, I think, women, when you’re in your twenties… I

was like this when I was younger, okay? You tend to get very flattered, you

tend to feel very special when a man is vulnerable with you, when he opens

up to you about his trauma. [fake crying] “You know, Ali… when I was a

little boy… my uncle, he…” I’m gonna stop you right there, okay? “Hey! Snap

out of it, man! Snap out of it! Come on!” “Let’s keep it positive, let’s keep it
sexy.” I’m here for orgasms and free oysters. That’s it, okay? [audience

laughing] But if you’re a kind six like me, these dudes, they don’t wanna just

dick you down. In exchange, they want you to be their mommy-therapist.

They call me up, and they’re like, “Ali, I am having the worst fucking day.”

I’m like, “Well then, hang up the fucking phone.” [audience laughing] “I

don’t know why you think it’s acceptable to spread that shit to my day.” “I’m

having a great time.” “I’m in my professionally interior decorated home that’s

loaded with TOTO toilets.”

[audience laughing]

I’m with my two daughters right now. Oh, my God, they’re so cute. They’re

six and eight years old now. Can you believe that? Six and eight years old?

[audience cheering] They were in that striped dress and in that leopard dress,

now they’re out and about, six and eight years old. We watch RuPaul’s Drag

Race together every Saturday morning. Yeah. And then, they got these real

cute Asian Amélie haircuts that I gave to them ever since they were two. I

trim their hair every single day. I do. They’re like my little bonsais, you know?

[audience laughing] I really do believe that, for a woman, 40 is the golden

age… [audience cheering, applauding] …to get divorced.

It is perfect.

[audience laughing] I’m so sorry if you bought your wife tickets tonight

thinking that it would be a cute anniversary or birthday gift. But I have to

spread the good word. Forty is a great time to get divorced. The age range of

who I could date is huge. It’ll never be this huge again. I could go as low as

25, and then I could go as high as 55. Uh… If you’re 55, I got questions for

you. Like can you go on a brisk walk? [audience laughing] Can you lift heavy

things? Can you digest red meat without getting a swollen toe the next day?

Can you? Puedes? Es posible? Well, if the answer is yes to all of the above, then

I’m open, all right? So I matched with this one 55-year-old on the app. And

you could tell that he was 55. He had salt-and-pepper hair, it was a lot of gray

and white hair, but it was thick and long and lush, and he had this beautiful

beard to match. And he was a former pro surfer that continued to surf every

day, so he was tan and ripped. He was old, but he was sexy in this very

eye-catching way that reminded me of King Triton from The Little

Mermaid.

[audience laughing]
You remember watching that movie as a little girl, and King Triton floats

onto the screen, and you were like, “Oh”? [chuckles] “Who is this ocean

Santa Claus… with a six-pack and a tail? What’s up, King Triton? How you

doing?” “Come here, I wanna talk to you. Got a question for you.” “Where’s

Ariel’s mom at? Is she dead or…?” “You two get divorced? You stop fucking?

You in an open situation?” “Where is she?” “All right, I got another question

for you.” [audience laughing] “Where’s your dick at? You got a dick under

that tail?”

[audience laughing]

So I meet up with the 55-year-old in person. We sit down to dinner. I take a

look at him, and I was like… “Huh.” [audience laughs] “Oh, you’re not 55,

are you?” He was like, “No, I’m 60.” “Ali, look, I’m really sorry, okay?” “I

should’ve come clean to you about this sooner. I was just…” “I was so excited

to meet you.” “When I first joined the app, I accidentally, honestly, entered in

my birthday in wrong, and the app wouldn’t let me go back and change it.”

“And because that app is so exclusive, I didn’t wanna get on the waitlist

again.” “And yes, all of those pictures on my profile are admittedly from five

years ago when I first joined, because I’ve just simply been too lazy to take
and upload new ones.” “Ali, look, I really apologize, okay?” “And I totally get

it if you just wanna get up and leave right now.” I was like, “No, it’s fine, you

know?” “We’re already here, and gas so expensive.” [audience laughing] And

I said to him, “Hey, now that I’m seeing you in person, yes, you do look a

little bit older, but I have to say, you have the most beautiful, interesting eyes

that I’ve ever seen in my life.” And he was like, “Oh.” [chuckles softly] “Yeah,

that’s ’cause I have glaucoma.”

[audience laughing]

I was like, “You should’ve kept that shit to yourself, man.” Now when I go to

the bathroom, I have to Google, “What is glaucoma?” [audience laughing]

It’s wild, because, you know, I’m 42. I’ve never fucked a 60-year-old man

before. And I have to say that it was awesome.

[audience laughing]

[audience cheering]
Yeah. It was, it really was. I would highly recommend fucking a 60-year-old

man if you like it when a man cums and he screams violently… [audience

laughing] …as if you were pulling his nose right off of his face. Just…

[screams] You know, really makes you feel alive because he might be dead.

[audience laughing] Oh, fucking a dude that’s 60 is especially great if you’re

into it when a man ejaculates and then he physically collapses on top of you.

And then you feel like you just pulled the wrong piece out of a Jenga tower,

right? Like, you thought you were gonna go down in history as this

Asian-American pioneer of motherhood and comedy, but no, your legacy is

you’re a murderer now. That’s how you’ll be remembered. Oh, but the best

part about fucking a dude that’s 60 is that you get to hear a story…

[audience laughing]

…that he already told you on Tuesday… [audience laughing] …that he’s

gonna repeat to you on Friday, about a half-court shot he once made in 1985.

[audience laughing] Listen, I am being sincere when I said that it was

awesome, because it was, okay? Let’s not forget that this dude is a former pro

surfer. So he’s been fucking women his whole life. Whole life. He’s got all

kinds of tricks up his sleeve. All this shit, right? This shit. Spitting on his
knee. [mimics spitting] This shit. You know? [chuckles] Then spitting on his

toes. [mimics spitting] I’ve never seen that before. Whoo! Like, using his leg

like a tentacle. ‘Cause he’s a man of the ocean, you know? He got an octopus

teacher. He got seahorse friends advising him and shit. He is one with the

mollusks. He’s Aquaman.

[audience laughing]

Uh… And then he was looking at me the entire time with those iridescent

Night King eyes.

[audience laughing]

Those hologram “winter is coming” eyes, you know? Made the whole

experience both majestic and terrifying. Had me feeling like if I failed to cum

at the same time as him, he was gonna put a curse on me. And then at

midnight, I was gonna turn into a little baby Minotaur with psoriasis.

[audience laughs] We did climax simultaneously. Very rare for the first time

you fuck somebody. And it was amazing, it was very intense.

Bing-bing-bing-bing-bing-bing. It was great. Uh… But then he screamed in

my ear. [audience laughing] And I swear to God, it was so loud… it made my

vision blurry. [audience laughing] And then he just went full boneless and

turned into a 200 lb human flesh puppet on top of me. He just wouldn’t

move. And my heart sank to my stomach. I was like, “Oh, my God, he’s

dead.” [audience laughing] And then when he started breathing again, I’ve

never felt relief like that in my life. Spread to my fingertips, my toes, and my

nose. It was like I came twice.

[audience laughing]

The only sensation better than an orgasm is knowing you’re not actually

gonna go to jail. [audience laughing] The first person to contact me after the

announcement of my divorce was this 25-year-old half-Vietnamese bro from

Texas, living in Chicago. And he was super-duper hot, but I was very reticent

to respond to him because he’s 25 years old. That’s young. That means he

doesn’t know who Kato Kaelin is, he’s never drunk Crystal Pepsi or watched

E.T. Like, what the fuck are we gonna talk about, you know?

[audience laughing]
So I was ignoring his DMs, and then he sent me a thirst-trap video. That’s

way past my time, okay? I’ve never received one of those before, so I didn’t

know what was happening. He sends me this video where he’s in a bathroom

and the shower’s running. I was like, “What’s going on? This kid okay?” “Is

he depressed or something?” “Is he about to hurt himself? Is this a cry for

help?” And then he proceeded to take off his shirt, and he was just jacked,

and then he did that shit with his pecs.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch.

[audience laughing] [chuckles] Like a Toni Braxton video. I was like, “Oh,

my God.” And then he proceeded to adjust his sweatpants. And then he was

like… [smacking lips] And then the video ends, and I was like… [gasps]

[audience laughing] And then I watched the video ten more times. [audience

laughs] Each time, just zeroing in more and more at that part at the end

where he’s adjusting his sweatpants. I’m trying to detect from the lighting,

from the tug of the fabric, like, how big is this thing, you know? My God, he

was so smart to not show me it, but instead show me the silhouette of it. It

was very burlesque of him. [audience laughing] [man whooping] So he flew

to LA, and I fucked the shit out of him.

[audience laughing]

Oh, my God. Oh! [audience cheering, applauding] It was so good. My toes

are curled up in two fists right now just thinking about it again. It was so

good that I decided to fly to Chicago two weeks later to fuck him again.

[audience cheering] Yes. And I could tell that he was broke, because all of his

thirst-trap videos were filmed in a YMCA bathroom.

[audience laughing]

[Ali clears throat] So I called him up before I left for Chicago, and I said,

“Hey, I’m so excited to see you again, and, uh, I wanna stay at a nice hotel.”

“I wanna eat at great restaurants, and I wanna do fun things.” “So while I’m

there, I’m gonna pay for everything.” He was like, “Sick.”

[audience laughing]

[sighs in relief] “Cowabunga…” [laughs]

[audience laughing]
I land there, and we have a great night together. And then in the morning, he

was like, “What’d you wanna do today?” I was like, “I wanna go to the

museum.” He was like, “I’m down to see dinosaurs.”

[audience laughing]

I like, “No, man, I wanna go to the Art Institute of Chicago. “It is arguably

the best museum in the US.” “It’s where that famous scene from Ferris

Bueller’s Day Off was filmed.” “Oh, my God.” “You don’t know what Ferris

Bueller’s Day Off is.”

[audience laughs]

And so we go there, and because it’s my favorite museum, we spent three

hours there. I didn’t realize that until we were leaving. I was like, “Oh, my

God, we’ve been here for three hours.” “Are you okay?” “Was that, like, total

utter torture for you?” He was like, “No.” “All this art? Fire!” [audience

laughing] “Fire, bro. That dude Monet? Fire.” [audience laughing] I was like,

“Did you just say… [mispronouncing] ‘Monet’?” [audience laughing] “Okay,

I’m gonna fuck you like six more times.” [audience laughing] Traditionally, I
have exclusively dated Asian-American men. I still find them to be the sexiest.

I do. Like when I watched Squid Game, I was like, “Oh, my God.” Whoo! “I

like that one, I like that one, I like that one, and I like that one.” And then

when I watched Avatar: The Last Airbender, the cartoon, I was like, “I like

that one, I like that one, I like that one, I like that one.” I like Prince Zuko, I

like Uncle Iroh, I like Appa. I like all of them.

[audience laughing]

[laughs] So, you know, historically, I have exclusively dated Asian-American

men, but I have now opened myself up to taste the rainbow. [audience

laughing] Yes. And for the first time in my life, I have dated quite a few white

men. That’s not really part of the rainbow… [audience laughing] …but it’s

like the cloud at the end of the rainbow. And I do believe that the

precipitation from clouds is crucial to the forma… You know what? I’m not a

climatologist. You get it, okay? In the past two years, I’ve fucked a lot of

dudes named Blake. [audience laughing] And for whatever reason, it has

specifically been a lot of white dudes from the Midwest. And while all of

them have been oh so very kind, I don’t know that me and any of those dudes

could’ve lasted long-term, because these white dudes from the Midwest, their
diet, their palate, is so limited. I’m a very adventurous eater, okay? I eat pigs’

feet, I eat durian, I eat snails, I eat everything. Yeah. But these white dudes

from the Midwest, they get diarrhea… [audience laughing] …every time they

eat a dish that’s not a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

[audience laughing]

I’m like, “Oh, my God, Blake, you have diarrhea again?” “From soy sauce?”

“The Kikkoman soy sauce was too spicy for you, Blake?” “Do you wanna get

extra mild soy sauce next time?” “Do you wanna just dip your California roll

in mayonnaise water moving forward?”

[audience laughing]

Then these white dudes from the Midwest, they’re always yucking my yum,

acting like the food I eat is gross and crazy. I’m like, “No, Blake. The food

you eat is gross and crazy.” One night for dinner, I witness Blake eat a slice of

cheese pizza with a glass of cold milk and ice cream for dessert. He had milk

three ways. [audience laughing] A straight tres leches meal… [audience

laughing] …was the most lactose-tolerant human being I’d ever met in my

life. He was like a cat, a mouse, and a toddler wrapped up in one.

[audience laughing]

[scoffs] Oh, my God, it blew my mind the first night we ate fried chicken

together, because you know, I eat my meat to the bone, like a good

Vietnamese girl. I eat the cartilage, the marrow, the gristle… [audience

cheering] …the skin. I eat everything. Uh, Blake took one bite of his

drumstick and then moved right on to the next piece, leaving enough meat

on the bone to feed all the Whos in Whoville.

[audience laughing]

I was like, “Oh, what’s for dessert?” “Dollar bills on fire?” [audience

laughing] And then one afternoon, I take him to the San Gabriel Valley,

which is like the mecca for Chinese food here in Los Angeles. And I take him

to this fantastic, very authentic Chinese restaurant, and we meet up with my

college friend Hai. And Hai was trying to be friendly and make small talk

with Blake, and he says, “Hey, Blake, does Ali have you eating all sorts of
crazy shit?” And Blake was like, “Yeah, it’s a lot of stuff that I’m not used to,

but I try to be open. It’s important to me to try new things.” And then Hai

says to me, “Ali, look what Blake just did.” And Blake had poured tea for the

three of us into our rice bowls.

[audience laughing]

He was like, “I don’t understand. Where’s the tea supposed to go?” And then

Hai pushed the teacups forward. And Blake was like, “But that’s too small

for tea.” And Hai was like, “Well, it’s definitely too small for rice.” Then he

says, “You know what? It’s all good, bro.” “‘Cause I was low-carb, but today,

I’m no carb.”

[audience laughing]

And then Blake started flipping out about all the tendon and sea cucumber

that Hai and I were ordering. And he’s like, “Ali, can you please just order me

a pork bun?” So I get him a pork bun, and he ate it with the paper still on.

[audience laughing] I think for the longest time I was so focused on getting

dicked down because the task of finding a boyfriend, someone who I

consider talented, someone who makes me laugh, someone who I have a real

connection with, someone who I look up to as an artist, someone that I

would feel proud to introduce to my kids, my peers and my friends and my

mentors. I mean, that seemed impossible, you know? Like, if you wanna be

my boyfriend, too, just to start, you gotta be a divorced dad. Yeah. You gotta

be a divorced dad because I want a man that’s been pre-yelled at.

[audience laughing]

Turnkey ready, know what I’m saying? I want that cast iron skillet seasoned.

I want a man whose inner spirit has already been crushed by his ex-wife, my

guardian angel, my master, my shifu, who has ordered him around to death

and taken half of his money so that I seem like an easygoing cheerleader in

comparison. One woman’s trash is another woman’s trained trash. [audience

laughing]

[chuckles]

[man] Yeah! I don’t want a man that’s broke, but I do want a man that’s

broken, okay? Yeah, I wanna see some dings on that CARFAX report. I
wanna see that in 2020, there was a head-on collision when David put the

wet dishes on top of the dry dishes. [audience laughing] I don’t want one of

these dudes that’s 40 years old, been single their whole life, no marriage, no

kids. Uh-uh. Those men age, but they don’t grow up. [audience laughing]

Right? They get very easily overwhelmed.

[audience laughing]

I want a man that doesn’t take an entire day to put a duvet cover on a duvet. I

want a man who knows how to buy other fruit besides bananas. [audience

laughing] And look, if you wanna be my boyfriend, I accept occasional

erectile dysfunction, okay? Yeah, we’re 40. Erectile dysfunction is like climate

change. It’s here. Don’t be in denial.

[audience laughing]

I accept occasional erectile dysfunction, just as long as you know how to

pivot. You have to pivot fast. You gotta eat out my ass right away. Right away.

Within milliseconds. Nothing will make me forget and forgive faster than

when you place the hole where food goes in right on top of the hole where
food goes out. Ooh! You know? It’s a complete reset. It’s like the Men in

Black pen. This is the new beginning now. You know?

[audience laughing]

[chuckles] What I definitely don’t want instead of the pivot is to have to hear

the excuse, the explanation, the speech, as to why your boner has gone soft.

[in a high-pitched voice] “Oh, I’ve had a very stressful day.” “I had a long

Zoom, and then I played pickleball for two hours.” “I’m exhausted. A lot on

my mind. My grandma’s sick…” Nobody gives a shit. Put your tongue in the

booty hole now.

[audience laughing]

Lengua en el culo ahorita. [audience laughing] [chuckles] All right, I think

this next point should be obvious. If you wanna be my boyfriend, you better

be nasty. Yeah. A lot of men out there aren’t nasty. A lot of men refuse to kiss

after they’ve cum in your mouth. How rude. [audience laughing] I just

sucked your dick. My knees have those puffy red circles on them. My topknot

has migrated to the side of my head. [audience laughing] And you can’t…
[mimicking kiss] “Thank you. Thank you so much.” “Thank you, Emmy,

Golden Globe winner Ali Wong… [audience cheering] …for sucking my

dick.” That’s your jizz in my mouth. Why are you acting grossed out? That’s

like being like, “Ugh! Who farted?” “You farted. You jizzed and you farted.”

[audience laughing] “That’s your fart, your cum, your responsibility. Now

kiss me.”

[audience laughing]

“You know what? Your jizz isn’t even in my mouth anymore, because I

swallowed it since I’m a kind six.” [audience laughing] I should clarify, there

are no globs of jizz in my mouth anymore. There is a film, a coating, a

whisper, if you will, similar to when you eat a bag of Cheetos. The Cheetos

are in your tummy, but the orange dust, the sabor, the essence, the spirit of

the Cheeto, still remains and lingers. Yes. [man whoops] [chuckles] Look,

I’m not saying you have to give me head day one of my period. That’s

disgusting, okay? I know the difference between nasty and disgusting. That’s

disgusting. You do not have to give me head day one of my period. But when

we have landed at day four… and it has petered out into a watery salsa…
[audience laughing hysterically] What are you scared of, you baby? There’s

iron in there, okay?

[audience laughing hysterically]

There’s nutritional benefit. Tomorrow, you can skip putting spinach in your

smoothie because of me.

[audience laughing]

So while I was very focused on getting dicked down, at the same time, I was

always, deep down, looking forward to falling in love. I mean that. I’m a

romantic ho like that, okay? I love falling in love. I believe it’s the best feeling

in the world. They call it “falling” for a reason, because it’s momentous, you

know? I love that beginning magical period where you only see the positive

qualities in somebody else. Right? And then you feel like a better person…

because you’re pretending to be a better person. [audience laughing] I like

the challenge of having to impress somebody else. I like wondering, “Oh, my

God.” “Does this person like me as much as I like them?” And then when

you finally have sex after all that anticipation… [inhales sharply] …it’s never
that good again, right? Right? When they enter you for the first time, and

you give each other that look… You know, that look that’s just like…

[breath shaking]

[audience laughing] It’s so good. Because they’re not just sticking their dick

inside of your pussy… Mm-mm. …they’re filling the hole in your heart…

[audience laughing] …that you didn’t know was there in the first place. Now,

I have fallen in love once since my divorce, and that hole got filled. It did. But

it made me curious about how many other holes are in my heart. [audience

laughing] And if my heart is like Swiss cheese, where there’s different holes of

varying diameters that require bespoke dicks to fill them.

[audience laughing]

I did fall in love once since my divorce. I fell in love very hard with this

Japanese-American dude that I met at a coffee shop, of all places. And my

God, he was so stunning. I had to go and talk to him. He was 6′ 8″. Yeah, I

didn’t know they made us in that size. I was like, “Oh, my God.” “Who’s

this?” And then he turned out to be this very talented drummer, and a bunch
of my friends knew who he was. They were like, “Oh, my God, Ali, that dude

is the shit.” And he was so funny, and, my God, he was so smart. He spoke

three different languages. He was a divorced dad, and we fell in love head over

heels so fast. And we were getting ready to go on this big trip to Asia

together, and then all of a sudden, one day, he broke up with me. And, uh…

And I was totally blindsided. I still don’t know why he did it, and I was

devastated. And I tried to hide how bummed out I was from my kids, but

then they found me in the closet one day, listening to Tony Rich Project,

They were like, “Mommy, what’s wrong? Why are you so bummed out all

the time?” So that was sort of the impetus for me to get back up on stage and

do stand-up again and go on tour. Um…

[audience cheering]

Yeah. Thank you so much. Stand-up is the one thing that’s always made me

feel so connected to people. And I gotta tell you that even though that dude

really broke my heart, not for one second did I ever regret getting divorced. I

mean it. Because, you know, that drummer dude, he came along, and he filled

this hole in my heart, but then he left me, and then that hole was empty

again. But at least I was single and free to go on another adventure to fill it.
Right? [audience cheering] Yeah. And that freedom, it feels so good. And I

know that it can be really intimidating to get back out there as a 40-year-old

mom, because you think to yourself, “Who’s gonna wanna fuck me and my

stretched-out cave pussy?” “Who’s gonna want this geriatric uterus, these

breastfed National Geographic titties?

[audience laughing]

And I’m here to tell you that as long as you’re a kind six, real men don’t give a

fuck, okay?

[audience cheering]

They don’t. They really don’t. Real men know that real sexiness is on the

inside. And I know, also, that, you know, divorce gets a really bad reputation

and it can sound really scary and full of acrimony, but then just look at me as

an alternate example of how it can be. I’m best friends with my ex-husband,

and then if you…

Yeah, I really am.

[audience cheering]

And if you can take away anything from what you’ve heard tonight, look

how much fun I’m having. [audience laughing] It’s crazy. Like, I never

thought I would have this much fun, this kind of fun, at this stage in my life.

I swear to God, divorce is so fun… [audience laughing softly] …that I almost

wanna get married again… [audience laughing] …just so I can get divorced

again. And if you would like to join the hotation, please feel free to DM me.

[laughing]

[audience laughing]

I’m just kidding. I have a new boyfriend now. I do. [audience cheering] Uh…

I did fall in love again. Some of you might know who the guy is. [audience

cheering] And, uh… it just so happens to be the man who sent me all of those

flowers in Europe. I’ve been Ali Wong. Have a good night, everybody. Thank

you. Thank you so much. Thank you.

[audience cheering]
♪ All we have to do now ♪

♪ Is take these lies And make them true somehow ♪

♪ All we have to see ♪

♪ Is that I don’t belong to you And you don’t belong to me, yeah, yeah ♪

♪ Freedom, oh ♪

♪ Freedom ♪

♪ Freedom ♪

♪ You’ve gotta give for what you take ♪

– ♪ Freedom ♪

♪ I’ll hold onto my ♪

♪ Freedom ♪
[inaudible]

♪ My freedom ♪

♪ You’ve gotta give for what you take ♪

♪ Give for what, give for what you take ♪

♪ Yeah ♪

♪ You’ve gotta give for what Give for what, to give ♪

♪ May not be what you want from me ♪

♪ Just the way it’s got to be ♪

[music fades]
Hard Knock Wife (2018) | Transcript

Two years after the hit "Baby Cobra," Ali Wong is back with

another baby bump -- and a torrent of hilarious truths about

marriage and motherhood.

Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage Ali Wong!

♪ What y’all thought Y’all wasn’t gon’ see me? ♪​

♪ I’m the Osirus of this shit♪​

♪ Wu-Tang is here forever, motherfuckers♪​

♪ It’s like this ninety-seven ♪​

♪ Aight my n i g g a s and my n i g g arettes♪​

♪ Let’s do it like this♪​

♪ I’ma rub your ass in the moonshine♪​

♪ Let’s take it back to seventy-nine♪​

♪ I bomb atomically♪​

♪ Socrates’ philosophies and hypotheses♪​

♪ Can’t define How I be droppin’ these mockeries♪​

♪ Lyrically perform armed robbery ♪​

♪ Flee with the lottery Possibly they spotted me♪​

♪ Battle-scarred shogun♪​

♪ Explosion when my pen hits ♪

Oh, my goodness! I heard a rumor that all of the Asians in this city… Have

congregated in this theater tonight. Yeah. Thank you for coming with your

white boyfriends. I really… Appreciate it, from the bottom of my heart. I’m

so excited to be here. I have not been performing that much at all, in the past

two years, because two years ago, I gave birth to a baby girl. And when I first

started to come back out to do stand-up, the other stand-up comics, they
couldn’t believe it. They were like, “Oh, my God, Ali… “What are you doing

here? “Didn’t you just have a baby?” I was like, “Listen… I’ve been with my

baby girl since she was born, all day every day. And I love her so much. But

I’m on the verge of putting her in the garbage. I need to be here to miss her,

so that I don’t go to jail.”

It’s so sexist when people ask me, “Well, if you’re here, then who’s taking care

of the baby?” Who the fuck do you think is taking care of the baby? The TV

is taking care of the baby, okay? The windows are open, she’s got gummy

vitamins on her lap, she’s fine!

I tried being a stay-at-home mom, for eight weeks. I like the stay-at-home

part. Not too crazy about the mom aspect, that shit is relentless. I was stupid

and naive, and I thought that being a stay-at-home mom was about

chillaxing, getting to shit in your own home, Watch Wendy Williams and go

out to brunch with your sassy girlfriends. I did not understand that the

whole price you have to pay for staying at home is that you’ve gotta be a

mom. Oh, and that’s a job. It’s a wack-ass job. You get no 401K, no

co-workers. You’re just in solitary confinement all day long with this human

Tamagotchi… That don’t got no reset button, so the stakes are extremely
high. A toy Tamagotchi is more communicative than a human baby. Okay?

Because the toy will at least tell you when it poos. With a human baby, you

just have to guess and check your intuition by sniffing its ass… Twenty-six

times a day. And you can’t phone it in and sniff it from afar. You really gotta

flip the baby over, plant your face in the baby’s ass and give it a good yoga

inhale with your mouth and everything, because the inside of your nose has

been singed from all the poo-poo smelling.

That’s how I know I love my baby more than anybody else in the entire

world. I told my husband “Till death do us part.” And not once have I ever…

sniffed his ass… To check if he shit his pants. I’ve licked it, but I haven’t

sniffed it. Because sniffing it would be disgusting! Okay? And if you haven’t

licked ass yet, grow up. Grow the fuck up. And learn how to be in a

long-term, committed, lasting-relationship full of love where you have to

make sacrifices for the greater good. My dream, my goal for the longest time

was to be a trophy wife, but then I found out that in order to be a trophy

wife, you have to be a trophy. I am more of a commemorative plaque.

I joined a moms’ group in Los Angeles. Yeah, I don’t find any of these

bitches particularly interesting or fun, but when you’re a new mom on

maternity leave, it’s like The Walking Dead, you just gotta hook up with a

crew to survive. I used to hate on other moms for the clothes that they wore.

You know these fucking clothes that moms wear, all that cheesy-ass animal

print and… loud metallic shiny shoes. And now I see something that’s

bedazzled in rhinestones, and I’m like, “Oh… That looks nice. I think I’ma

get that!” The more glitter the better, because when you’re a mom you need

sparkle. To compensate for the light inside of you that has died.

A lot of young women have anxiety about giving birth. Well, let me tell you

something. Giving birth ain’t nothing compared to breastfeeding!

Breastfeeding is brutal. It is chronic physical torture. I thought it was

supposed to be this beautiful bonding ceremony, where I would feel like I

was sitting on a lily pad in a meadow and bunnies would gather at my feet

while the fat Hawaiian man version of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”

would play. No! It’s not like that at all! Breastfeeding is this savage ritual that

just reminds you that your body is a cafeteria now! It don’t belong to you no

more. When my baby girl would get hungry, she’d yank my nipple back and

forth like that bear fucking up Leonardo DiCaprio in The Revenant. It’s

frightening. I saw that movie, and my nipples were like, “I feel you, Leo!”​
I didn’t take any classes on breastfeeding, because I assumed it was just gonna

be this very easy intuitive thing where the baby sucks on your nipple like a

straw, and the nurse promised me that I would have a particularly easy time,

since my nipples look like fingers. You can spin DVDs on them, that’s how

Command hook-like they are. But apparently, you have to get the baby to

latch on at a very specific angle. You gotta tilt their head and do geometry to

get them on properly. And it’s very stressful, because when they’re hungry

and they’re crying, it makes your hormones spray milk all over their face and

their neck, which then become very slippery and hard to grip, and then you

gotta slam them on at just the right time. And every time I would do it, it was

like parallel parking. I don’t know how I did it! It’s a mystery. I was never

properly trained, but I just did it. I just went back and forth, and back and

forth, and back and forth, until all these very concerned strangers start

gathering outside of my car. Those people who gather outside of Asian

women’s cars while we’re parking… Are so helpful and so racist at the same

time. I’m always like, “Thank you. Thank you, but fuck you… For assuming

correctly about me! I could not have done this without you!”​

My mom saw me struggle with breastfeeding and she was very discouraging

about it, and she was like, “Why are you breastfeeding? I raised you on
formula and look how shiny your hair is.” She was like, “Are you falling for

that bullshit slogan, ‘breast is best’?” I was like, “No… I do it because breast is

free. Come on, Mom, you know what it is. Local, organic, free-range,

farm-to-mouth milk squirting outta my titties.” It was squirting out of like

15 holes in each titty, like the Bellagio fountain, just, “Woo. Woo, woo, woo.

Woo, woo, woo.” For free! My body was a food factory. I wasn’t about to let

that all go to waste. If you shat juicy hamburgers… Would you ever wait in

line at In-N-Out again? No, you would pop a squat over your husband’s

head every morning. And tell him to open wide… Because breakfast is on the

way… Animal style. Yeah, you’d be like, “I got your secret menu right here.” ♪

Work, work, work, work, work ♪

I had to stop breastfeeding after eight and a half months. I could not take

it anymore. By the end, I felt like The Giving Tree. I used to not-understand

what that depressing-ass book was about. And now I know it’s about

breastfeeding! It’s about a mom who used to have all of these beautiful

branches and apples, and then this little freeloader comes into her life, takes

all of her shit, and then she just becomes a sad-ass tree stump with deflated

titties! People kept on asking me, “Ali, how did you get so skinny after the
baby?” She sucked the life outta me! As it turns out, breastfeeding is not free

because you have to buy all of these pillows and pumps to support your

breastfeeding, and then you might get a clogged duct. That’s when you get

like a traffic jam kidney stone in your titty, and then you have to call a

lactation consultant. A lactation consultant is a white NPR listener with

dreadlocks, Named Indigo, That you have to pay $200 to rush over to your

house and Roto-Rooter your titty. Indigo had me do push-ups, dipping my

titty in and out of a bowl of scalding hot water, and then beat my titty like

this in the interim.

This is why women need maternity leave. In every other First World

country… Canada, France, Germany… Women get up to three years off paid

maternity leave when they have a new baby. In the US, we get jack shit. In the

US, there is zero federal policy for maternity leave. Maternity leave is not just

to bond with the baby. Fuck the baby! Maternity leave is for new moms to

hide and heal their demolished-ass bodies! I couldn’t go back to work topless

beating my wet titty, trying to establish dominance over all my coworkers.

You’d get fired! People don’t tell you about all the crazy shit that goes down

when you get pregnant, when you give birth. When I was pregnant, a lot of
other moms had highly recommended to me, “Ali, now you make sure at the

hospital to steal a bunch of the free diapers.” “Yeah, duh, I know for the

baby.” “No. For you…” “For me? What the fuck do I need diapers for?” “Oh,

you’ll see…” Winter is coming.”​

And indeed I did see! Nobody told me about all the crazy shit that comes out

of your pussy after you give birth. You know what happens after the baby

comes out? You know what else exits? Her house. Her living room, her

pillows… the Bob Marley poster… All the food that went bad in her

refrigerator… for months! So then you have to wear this cartoonishly large

pad. That’s like the size of a toddler mattress, and it’s only held up by the

strength of this mesh fishnet underwear that’s exclusively available at the

hospital. You can’t get that shit on Amazon or anything, so you gotta snatch

that shit every day. It’s made out of the same material that they package fancy

Korean pears in. It’s very Dac Biet, okay? Number one extra large Dac Biet

hospital underwear. For three months, I was walking around my house with

a top knot, giant diaper, nipples bleeding. Like a defeated sumo wrestler.

I had a C-section. Yeah. Which was not the original intention, but I was

having contractions for 24 hours. Yeah. And then I was like, “Cut it out.”
The nurse was like, “Keep going.” I was like, “Bitch, I said cut it out. ♪ Your

price is way too high You need to cut it ♪ ♪ Cut it, cut it, you need to cut it♪

The nurse was not a big hip hop fan, so… She did not appreciate that or my

Dave Coulier reference. Look, a C-section is no joke, okay? It is major

surgery. But it’s very fast. They put the anesthesia in your back, and then they

put up this curtain so that your husband can only see your human side and

not your cadaver side. And then ten minutes later, they hold the baby above

the curtain like bloody Simba and it’s over. I was like, “What the fuck did I

do all that pushing for when there was this perfectly good emergency exit?”

One of my best friends, God bless her, she was in labor for 72 hours. The

baby’s head kept on going in and out, and in and out, and in and out. And

then she still had to have an emergency C-section. Before that shit went

down, my friend was the kindest, most polite, dainty lady, who would never

burp in front of anybody. After that shit went down, she became the most

bitter, nasty, raw-ass bitch I have ever met in my life! I went to her house to

pay her a visit shortly after, she opens the door, “Look at my pussy, Ali. Look

at this shit! Look at this!” No, “Hello, Ali. Welcome. Come meet my

beautiful new baby.” No, just, “Come on, you look at this shit! “You look at
what happened to me!” Just with the door open, in front of the entire

cul-de-sac to see, “Come on!” And her pussy looked crazy! It looked cuckoo

for Cocoa Puffs! When I saw it, I was like… Because her pussy straight up

looked like two hanging dicks side by side. In the process of giving birth to

one baby girl, my friend became two dudes. You could French braid that shit.

It was like a Star Wars monster. I mean, women, we’re not accustomed to

seeing each other’s pussies in the first place. It’s not like men at the urinal

where you’re like, “Hey, what’s up, dude? What’s going on?” holding your

dicks in your hands in front of each other. We’re never just like going to the

bathroom, “What’s up, girl?” holding our pussies, just casual, “I like your

manicure.” I told her that she had turned into two dudes. And she started

laughing. But then she started to get also extremely upset. And she was like,

“Please, do not make me laugh! Do not make me laugh!” And then with one

hand, she had to grab a pillow, and press it against her C-section scar. And

then with the other hand, she had to… pinch the dicks together… To make

sure that… the carne asada wouldn’t fall out of the taco, and become nachos

on the floor.​

You see, this is why women need maternity leave! Yeah, you’d better pay our

ass, too. My friend couldn’t go back to work with her meat curtains dragging
on the floor like the train of a sad-ass wedding dress. You can’t litigate like

that. Ain’t no Spanx gonna tuck that shit in. I told her all of that too, and she

started laughing more. And, you know, she was like, she was pinching and

she was pressing, and repressing the laughter and it got to be too much, and

then all of this gas gurgled up in her system, and she let out this fat-ass queef

that dried out my eyeballs. I was like… Oh! Ah! Oh! Eeee. Ah. Ah. Ah. Many

benefits to a C-section, okay?

Catheter, I had never had a catheter in my life. A catheter is a tube that they

hook up to your pee-pee hole, and you just lie there… And then all of a

sudden, this bag of piss shows up next to your bed. And then this kind

Filipino lady named Joyabelle Esperanza Purificacion Santo Domingo

Ordonez Balasa comes in to take it out. And you’re like, “Nurse Joyabelle,

whose piss that?” And she’s like, “That’s yours.” And you’re like, “Oh my

God, that’s mine?” I did not even feel it go out. The catheter, it just carries it

out. And I was like, “Oh my God, in my life I could have accomplished so

much more had I had a catheter attached to me this entire time.”

A lot of people like to ask me, “Ali, how on Earth do you balance family

and career?” Men never get asked that question… because they don’t. They
just neglect the child for like 90% of the day, and that’s perfectly socially

acceptable, but the standards for dads are so low that they get so much praise

for doing so little. My husband occasionally changes diapers, and when

people hear that, “Oh my God,” confetti everywhere! “I cannot believe that

your husband changes diapers! What a doting modern father. Lucky you!”

When my baby girl was first born, I would do skin-on-skin contact every day

to bond with her. She shit on my chest. Where’s my confetti at? I’ll tell you

how I balance family and career, real talk? I have a nanny. That’s it, that’s the

answer. Yes, it’s very unlikable and unpopular to broadcast that because not

everybody can afford a nanny. It’s super expensive. It’s expensive for me and

my husband, so the both of us, we have to hustle, we have to work very hard

to not take care of our child ourselves. I’m all about putting the oxygen mask

on myself before I put it on my baby. I like that protocol. I like that

philosophy very much. When the stewardess tells me to make sure to do that,

I’m always like, “Yeah, I was gonna do that. I got no problem with that.”

I’m so jealous of Mexican people. Mexican culture. They don’t need no

nannies, ’cause you know who takes care of the baby? The other baby!

Hermana, Tía, Abuela, Sobrina, Prima, Second Prima, Bounce House… The
baby is just born into childcare. I want to be Mexican in my next life. Don’t

nobody have more fun than Mexicans. I used to live at Crenshaw and Pico,

yes, if you don’t know, Crenshaw and Pico is this magical corner in the hood

of Los Angeles where Guadalajara meets Korea… And the Mexicans and the

Koreans are in constant racial warfare, and their weapons are loud music

versus frowning. Mexicans know how to prioritize family and fun. They take

their kids to Disneyland all the time. And now to accommodate, there is all

of this Spanish at Disneyland. Every ride begins with, “Ladies and gentlemen,

for your safety please keep your arms and hands inside the vehicle at all times.

Damas y caballeros, por favor mantengan las manos y los Brazos dentro Del

coche, and please do not smoke… Because it is gross and dangerous, okay?

And employees must wash hands before returning to work. Okay, be careful.

Be very careful. Cos tongue taco, son of a bitch, apple! ♪ Late at night When

all the world is sleeping ♪ Yes, that’s how Mexican Disneyland has gotten,

they play Selena on Pirates of the Caribbean. The Haunted Mansion is now

called Dia de los Muertos! And what was formerly known as Splash

Mountain is now Esplash Mountain.

Our nanny is 62 years old. Yes, I would never accept anything younger than

62 years old. If you are hiring a 25-year-old pretty young thing to be your

nanny, you a dumb-ass. Do you not read People magazine? You don’t know

what’s up? That’s inviting a marriage grenade into your home. When you

have a newborn baby, your marriage is very weak because you’re both stressed

out, you look like shit ’cause you don’t shower no more, you’re resentful of

each other, whose idea was it to bring this new roommate into the world?

Your marriage is very vulnerable and easy for an outsider to invade and

colonize. If we had hired a 25-year-old man, who was… not ugly… Great with

my daughter and said yes immediately to every chore I asked him to do with a

positive attitude, Oh, you best believe that I would eat the shit out of his

butthole. Every day. Every day would be an all-day nanny butthole buffet. I

don’t care if his 25 year old butt cheeks got all nervous and clenched up and

closed on my face like elevator doors, I would get in there and… Like Jack

Nicholson in The Shining!

A lot of people also often ask me, “Ali, what on Earth do your parents think

about your stand-up comedy?” Now that’s a very racilly-charged question,

right? Like, what they’re really asking is, “What do your oppressive Asian
parents who beat you with the SAT book until your fingers bled from

playing the cello think about your butthole-licking jokes?” My older sister is

an unemployed lesbian who lives on my mother’s property. So I can do

whatever I want. Yeah. Whatever I want! I could take a shit on this stage right

now, and my mom would be like, “You bring so much honor to our family. I

am so proud of you, my golden child.”

And then a lot of people also seem to wonder, “Ali, now that you have a

daughter, are you gonna tone it down?” Here’s the thing, just because you

became a parent, doesn’t mean you grew up. Yeah. Broey dudes become

broey dads. I’m the same piece of shit that I always was before I became a

mom, now just with more responsibility, and I’m barely rising to the

occasion. And I’m not ashamed, I’m not going to hide that I was very

sexually active in my twenties. You know why? Because everybody knows the

secret now that when a woman sleeps with a man right away, it’s not because

we don’t respect ourselves, it’s because we don’t respect you. We don’t see

you as marriage material. That’s why we let your dick inside so fast. By letting

you in, we’re really kicking you out of our future. “Bye, Felicia, be on your

merry little way.” We’re just trying to have fun, we’re not trying to trap your
ass.​

But… But you better be careful because when a man… When a man doesn’t

sleep with you right away, oh… oh, it’s not because he respects you, it’s

because he has a small dick. And he’s trying to trap you. Do not fall for that

trap. I’m gonna repeat that shit to my daughter over and over and over again.

Do not fall for that trap. I fell for that shit once, fell in love and into a semi

long-term relationship with a man who kept on wanting to wait to have sex,

and I assumed it was because he thought I was so special, and amazing, and

worth waiting for… He was hiding something! Months later he finally agrees

to get busy and unveils this tiny mess of a thing that wouldn’t even reach

your molars. It was a black dude. Creepy, right? Like seeing a homeless Asian

person, “What happened to you?” “Oh my God, who are your parents?

Truly!” It was a black dude, and I told all my black friends about it, and they

were like, “Where the fuck is he at? We need to assassinate him right now

before he further threatens to tarnish our sacred reputation!” It was the first

and last time I had ever seen an actual micropenis. And my honest first

reaction when I saw it was… “Oh, my God, are you okay? What happened,

did you just get hit by a bus? Did a car outside just like sideswipe your dick

off, and now is your dick rolling around on the street like a severed snake
head? And should we get a mason jar and just scoop it up, and bring you

both to the hospital to have you sewed back together? Wait a minute. Wait a

minute… Is this some sort of Princess and the Frog test? Did a witch curse

you a long time ago as punishment for calling her ugly? And now if I put that

in my mouth to prove that I love you, as a reward for my love, will it expand?

Like one of those magic towels you pour water on?”

My life has changed dramatically in the past year, because a year ago,

nobody knew who the fuck I was. And when I was warming up to tape my

very first stand-up comedy special I did four shows in my hometown, San

Francisco. And I was so excited, I was super pumped. And then I couldn’t

sell out all the tickets, so they had to put half of them up on Groupon. I

know a lot of you are having a Chinese heart attack right now. “Oh my

God… You mean to tell me I could’ve seen this bitch a year ago for $10?”

Look, I love Groupon, okay? But it was so depressing and demoralizing to see

my face and my picture next to… whale watching tours, Teeth whitening

services, and discontinued dildos on clearance. I was like, “This is sad.” And

then fast forward to last year, my Netflix special Baby Cobra premiered

Mother’s Day weekend. And it was crazy, nothing like that had ever
happened to me before. All of a sudden scalpers were charging up to $1,000 a

ticket to see me headline live. Over 300 people dressed up as me while I was

pregnant in that striped dress for Halloween. And I was so happy. Until I

realized that I have no interest in being famous. I don’t. All I ever wanted

was more money for less effort. I just wanna collect checks in my pajamas.

Play a piece of tofu in a Pixar movie or something. Yeah, come on, you see it,

the tofu’s got glasses, a lot of attitude, sings some song about the joy of soy

with Justin Timberlake. My arch nemesis can be a piece of beef played by

Idris Elba, Named Stringer Beef or something. I’m not even that famous and

already I hate it. I hate it so much. It’s a burden! Occasionally now, I will be

eating at a fancy restaurant and will get recognized by both the wait staff and

the chef and think to myself, “Oh, great. Now I have to tip more.”​

And I do have more money now, and now I make a lot more money than

my husband by like a long shot. Well, my mom is very concerned that he’s

going to leave me out of intimidation. I had to explain to her that the only

kind of man that would leave a woman who makes more money, is the kind

of man that doesn’t like free money. “Oh, but Ali, he doesn’t feel small?”

He’s too busy living large on my new salary! “Oh. Oh… Oh, but Ali, doesn’t

he feel like you took something away from him?” Oh, do you mean like the
pressure to provide? Which I have lifted from his shoulders. He’s chilling. He

walks into work now every day two hours late like this, “Fuck you! Fuck you,

fuck you, and fuck you! Fire me, I don’t give a shit. My wife’s rich, bitch.

Yeah! Yeah, this job is just an eccentric hobby for me now.”

It was not supposed to go down like this. Okay? I was supposed to be him.

I’m supposed to be the one chilling. He graduated from Harvard Business

School. I have a BA from UCLA in Ethnic Studies. Ethnic studies is a major

where you study how to blame everything on white people, it’s not supposed

to yield income. Nobody, no one could have predicted this outcome. So

much so, that before we got married, his family made me sign a prenup. It’s

true, and now if we get divorced, their son is fucked. No more sashimi on a

Tuesday! No more fancy Japanese toilet bidet where water comes out and

Hello Kitty sings the song until your butthole’s fresh and clean. Go back to

drinking flat water, bitch! It is said that if you earn more in the relationship,

then you are the breadwinner. I think my husband’s the real breadwinner,

because he won a bread machine. Being a woman and the breadwinner is not

all that, okay? Because you get insecure, you do, about having too much

power, so then you overcompensate in the marriage by letting the husband

have a say and… And then on top of that, you know, I get very insecure as

being seen as like an ice cold, workaholic mom, so then I’m the main

caregiver of our daughter, too. And I’m exhausted! I’m overwhelmed!​

So now when my husband and I role play, I request that he call me “a simple

ho”. Because that is my greatest fantasy, to be an illiterate farm girl, With no

responsibility or decision-making power. We’ll get really into it, too. He’ll be

like, “You! You are nothing but a simple ho!” And I’m like, “Yeah, I’m a real

dummy. I don’t know the alphabet, I don’t know how to count, I don’t

know the difference between shapes and colors. I can’t be trusted to deposit

checks or do anything important, for I am just a simple ho.”

Despite having more money, I keep it real, okay? I am still a

Chinese-Vietnamese person, okay? Yeah. I literally watch my Netflix special

on my sister-in-law’s login. To this day, I do not have my own account. After

I filmed Baby Cobra, Netflix sent me a Netflix baby onesie and a basket. You

know those baskets that white people like to give with the biscotti, and the

cheese, and the caramel popcorn, and all the other shit that Asian people have

no interest in whatsoever. I was like, “Give me an account! I don’t need this

shit that I’m allergic to, give me an account!” I still buy all my shit on
Craigslist, nothing in my house is new. But now, I have to go in a disguise

because last week I forgot my sunglasses and my hat and I was haggling with

this dude over a bike helmet. He was like, “Twenty.” I was like, “Ten.” He

was like, “Okay, 17.” I was like, “Uh-uh, I see a scratch on there. Ten.” And

finally he says to me, “Um, you know, I could swear, I… Aren’t you Ali

Wong? Why are you haggling with me over this bike helmet? I’m a college

student who, as you can see, lives in a studio apartment with roommates.” I

was like… “Shame on you. We don’t all look alike! Give me that helmet. Me

no speak-a the English! My name is not Ali Wong, my name is Grace Lee! I

dare you to Google Image Grace Lee. Your computer will burst into flames!”

I make fun of my husband a lot, but the reality is that he is my best friend.

Yes, I’m very serious. I’m very lucky to have gotten to marry my best friend,

and our whole dynamic confuses my mother because it’s the inverse of what

she had with my father. She was like, “Your father was not my best friend. I

cannot believe how comfortable you guys are around each other. Do you fart

in front of your husband?” I fart in my husband. ‘Cause we are best friends. I

hope that he and I always stay together, truly, you know? ‘Cause a lot of

times when comedians get successful, they inevitably get divorced from their
first spouse, and then at the age of, like, 50 or 60, they like to trade up for a

new one that’s, like, a third of their age. As a woman, that has zero appeal to

me.​

You think I wanna fuck an 18-year-old boy when I’m on the precipice of

menopause? Have some nervous teenager do three pumps and then bust a

nut in my old-ass pussy? No, thank you. No gracias. I don’t wanna fuck an

18-year-old boy, not now, not ever again, because they’re 18, they’re terrible

in bed. Do you remember when we were all teenagers? It was horrible for

teenage girls because oral sex was all one-way. As a teenage girl, you never ever

got your pussy eaten, but you sucked so many dicks. You’d suck a dick under

a bridge, in the bathroom, in the forest. But as a teenage girl, you never just

casually got your pussy eaten behind the bleachers, “Come on, Gary. Come

on… Come on, Gary. Come on. Just lie down on your back, Gary. Come on,

like you’re gonna change oil. Come on, Gary!” “Did you see that wicked

serve I made in that tennis match? Come on, Elliot, come on.

Congratulations to me! Come on, Elliot. Come on, Elliot. Come on.”

“There are no more children in this playground. Come on, Spencer. Come

on! It’s dark, Spencer, come on!”

You had to, like, wait until your 20s to get your pussy eaten, and even then

it was not very good because it’s very personal. Do you know how long it

took me to train my husband to eat my pussy correctly? I’m not going back

out into the world, find somebody new to coach all over again. It’s too much

work. All of that knowledge that my husband has now, all that time I

invested, all of that muscle memory lives and dies with him. You can’t store

that in some sort of I-pussy cloud and then just download it to a new

husband 2.0. He is bespoke to me. Irreplaceable! Yes. Look, many patient

nights I wanted to fake it, okay? But I knew that it was so fundamental for

the long-term that he get it right, and that lying to him would just be

cheating myself. And so, I would shove his head down there and keep it

down there until his face got prunie. Many nights, he’d enter 7:00 p.m.

looking like a 30-year-old man, exit hours later looking like Tommy Lee

Jones. You know how hard it is for a young Asian man to suddenly transform

into Tommy Lee Jones? I think a big part of being good at eating pussy is

that you just got to be into it, okay? Do it with gusto, with enthusiasm. It’s a

privilege, so act like you know, okay? Yes! Yeah, don’t hesitate. Don’t… Like

you’re some toddler being forced to eat broccoli. Get in there! And hold your
own goddamn head up, too, don’t use my thigh as a tripod and just… Fall

into a food coma before you finish your meal.

Lately, I have been ruminating a lot over this one time I hooked up with this

dude, and in the middle of kissing, I felt the responsibility to stop and say,

“Hey, I should really let you know now before we go any further that… I’m

on my period.” And he was like, “Oh… Well… Then let’s make a fucking

mess, Ali!” To this day, that is the most romantic thing anybody has ever

said to me. I think about it when I feel down and ugly and no good. All I

have to do is remember that there was once a man out there who was willing

to yank out my tampon and replace it with his dick! It made me feel

beautiful. Beautiful! (cheers and applause). There is nothing more

empowering and truly feminist than what that man said that day. That is

straight up hashtag… I’m with her.

You know, I think I used to be a much different comic before I had the baby.

I used to do a lot more jokes about sucking dick and my pussy, but now… not

as many jokes about… Sucking dick and my pussy because… I don’t suck

dick no more. When you give birth to a baby, they hand you a diploma that

says, “Congratulations, you’ve earned the right to not suck dick out of
obligation anymore.” If my husband were to demand that I suck his dick, I

would laugh in his face. And then I would go to sleep, and guess what? In the

morning, he’s still there, ain’t no consequence. We’re handcuffed together by

a baby and a mortgage. Checkmate, bitch. It’s over. You ain’t got nowhere to

run. I don’t gotta suck your dick anymore, you owe me money.

And I don’t do as many jokes about my pussy anymore because my pussy…

is gone. It’s gone. Physically it’s quite intact because I had the C-section, but

emotionally and spiritually… Ghost in the Shell. Ghost in the Shell, it’s an

Asian character being played by Scarlett Johansson! Yeah. My husband and I,

we don’t fuck no more. We just jack off side-by-side while we fantasize about

Puerto Rican people. I don’t have the energy to climb on top of him, clean

up after sex, put that towel on the bed to absorb that post-sex wet spot. You

know, that perfectly round-ass wet spot on the bed that gets all cold in the

winter time. It’s like an ice fishing hole. Because it smells like penguins. And

is narrated by Morgan Freeman.

All right, I’ve been Ali Wong. Have a good night, everybody. Thank you!
♪ Graphic displays melt the steel Like blacksmiths♪​

♪ Black Wu jackets Queen Beez ease the guns in♪​

♪ Rumblin’ patrolmen Tear gas laced the function♪​

♪ Heads by the score take flight Incite a war ♪​

♪ Chicks hit the floor Die hard fans demand more♪​

♪ Behold the bold soldier Control the globe slowly♪​

♪ Proceeds to blow Swingin’ swords like Shinobi♪​

♪ Stomp grounds I pound footprints in solid rock♪​

♪ Wu got it locked Performin’ live on your hottest block♪​

♪ As the world turns I spread like germs ♪​

♪ Bless the globe with the pestilence♪​

♪ The hard-headed never learn♪​

♪ It’s my testament to those burned♪​

♪ Play my position in the game of life Standing firm♪​

♪ On foreign land, jump the gun Out the frying pan into the fire♪​

♪ Transform into the Ghostrider Or Six Pack ♪​

♪ In A Streetcar Named Desire Who got my back?♪​

♪ In the line of fire holding back What? ♪​

♪ My peoples if you with me Where the fuck you at?♪​

♪ N i g g a s is strapped And they trying to twist my beer cap♪​

♪ It’s court adjourned For the bad seed from bad sperm♪​

♪ Herb got my wig fried like a bad perm♪​

♪ What the blood clot We smoke pot♪​

♪ And blow spots You want to think twice, I think not ♪​

♪ The Iron Lung ain’t got to tell you Where it’s coming from♪​

♪ Guns of Navarone Tearing up your battle zone ♪​

♪ Rip through your slums ♪​

♪ I twist darts from the heart Tried and true ♪​

♪ Loot my voice on the LP My team is on to slang rocks♪​

♪ Certified chatterbox Vocabulary ‘Donna talking ♪​

♪ Tell your story walking♪​

♪ Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid♪​

♪ Run for your team And your six camp rhyme groupies♪​

♪ So I can squeeze with the advantage And get wasted♪​

♪ My deadly notes reigns supreme♪​

♪ Your fort is basic compared to mine♪​

♪ Domino effect, arts and crafts♪​

♪ Paragraphs contain cyanide♪​

♪ Take a free ride on my thought♪​

♪ I got the fashion catalog For all y’all ♪​

♪ To all praise to the Gods ♪​

♪ The saga continues♪​

♪ Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang♪