Matt Braunger describes his awkward tendencies, a drug-addled clown pub crawl, the ideal strip club for women and a horrifying search for a possible home intruder.
- Thank you so much,you guys.
Thanks for coming out.
Thank you so much.
I thought I'd make it awkwardright off the bat
with that stupid,stupid dance.
I'm kind of a lightning rodfor awkwardness,
kind of an awkward rod.
Like, it just finds me.
Like, you knowwhen you get high and...
when any of you get high
and weirdos just find you?
You know what I mean?
They didn't even see youget high.
Like, that's why I can'treally smoke anymore
because I'll get highin my apartment,
you know, get, like, you know,washed, dipped, right?
Leave the apartment,walk outside,
this guy in a purple hatwill just run up
and be like, "Hey, man,what if dragons were real?
High-five."The [bleep] did you come from?
How did you find me?
I'm like thatwith awkwardness, right?
It just finds me.
I think it startedwhen I was dry-humping
with a six-year-old girlin some monkey bars once.
I was sixat the time as well.
Don't get [bleep] weird.We were learning.
It was some Blue Lagoon type stuff, right?
It wasn't even that.
We were climbingaround each other,
and our groins brushedaccidentally.
And I blurted out,"That was awesome."
and she looked at meas if to say,
"We're six, dick,"and ran away.
It's snowballed since then.
Like, I'm a master
at saying the wrong thingto women.
Like, I am mwah good.Like, black belt level.
Like, not in a creepy way.
Just accidentally, like,it just comes
out of my mouth unbidden.
Like, I was doing karaokein Chicago
where I used to live,okay, once,
doing a stellar rendition
of Oops!...I Did It Again.
Like, I nailed it.You know what I mean?
Like, I was Britney.I was her.
And I get off stage,
and this girl comes up to me,
and she's like,"Hey, that was really funny.
Hi, I'm Sarah."
Comes up to me.Gives me rhythm.
Which doesn't happen that often
'cause I looklike an enormous toddler.
[laughter]But...let's be honest.
Let's not lie to each other.
--saying, you know,"That was really funny,"
and I could have saidany number--
She's like,"Hi, that was really funny.
Hi, I'm Sarah."Right?
I could have saidany number of things
to make her like meor be my friend or maybe more.
The night was young.
But instead what my braintold my mouth to say,
and my mouth was like,"[bleep] it.
I hate this guy too.Send it."
What I literally saidto a girl was,
"Thanks a lot.Where do you live?"
What the wha?
What's the worst thingyou can ever say to a girl
you've never met?
Probably that?Probably that.
Look at how tall I am.
In a crowded bar,I look like I'm trying
to chewon people's heads already.
"Where do you live?"
Like, I didn't say--I didn't say,
"Oh, do you livearound here?
We neighbors?"That would have been fine.
Right?No, I said, "Where do you live?
"Where exactlydo you live?
"What's the address?
"I'm gonna hang outin the closet without a shirt
"and a Viking helmet on.
Honk your boobies.Check out my balls."
I didn't dothe last two things,
but it would not have beencreepier if I frigging had.
It wouldn't have been creepier
if I was carrying ropeand frigging duct tape
when I said that.
"Where do you live?"
All of a sudden I havea humpback and a hook
for a hand.
Chloroform ragcoming at you.
Put her in the vanwith the others.
"Where do you live?"
It's 'cause of stuff like thatthat I spend
a good amount of every daywincing out loud.
Out of nowhere.You ever do that?
Just walk onto the busand then all of a sudden,
"[bleep]! [bleep]! Why?
"Really?'Where do you live?'
I hate you so much."
Oh, uh, I am a drinker.
if you didn't notice.
Thanks.Should not be clapping.
There really should bean awkward silence right there,
but thank you.
But I will say this,I will say this,
being a heavy drinker,you learn things.
Okay? You learn thingsthat a lot of people don't know.
Like, I knowwhat the sound is--
that's what I call it,"the sound."
Now "the sound" is the sounda person's body makes
to let the peoplearound them know
they're aboutto frigging puke, okay?
They don't know it,but God put it in all of us
as an indicator,so when you hear it,
you're like,"Okay, yeah.
"No, keep talking,I'm listening.
Like, it's basicallythe sound
of that person's stomachsaying to that person,
"Chardonnay and tequila?Go [bleep] yourself.
"I'm taking off right now,and I hate you.
Your stomach is leaving."
It's basically a combinationof a gulp, a sigh,
and a swallow, okay?
I'll make it right now.I haven't had a drop.
You guys are all safe.But it sounds like this.
This is the public serviceannouncement portion
of the show, right?It sounds like this.
Listen closelyfor the sound, all right?
You've heard that, right?
You might have made it yourself.
Like the ghost of sobriety'slike, "[bleep] it. I'm leaving.
That's it.I'm done."
Like, I love itwhen someone makes that sound
not knowingthey're gonna puke.
Right?Some guy that, like,
he doesn't drink a lot,but all of a sudden
he's Captain Party,not the head of accounting
all of a sudden.
And you go to the office party,and he's way too amped up,
like, "Oh, man.Where you guys been?
"This place is awesome.
"I just did three shotslike a boss.
"Yeah. Oh, man.
"Look at the titson her, dude.
"Probably go over therein a minute and...
"Ughh...See what's up.
"It's gonna bea great night, man.
"I'm staying up all night.Oh, God!
Like, if you ever goto New Orleans
[cheers and applause]Yeah?
Oh, it's the best.It's the best.
But if you ever goto New Orleans
and you walkdown Bourbon Street,
you hear "the sound"like crickets in a field.
You don't know
where it's coming from.
[imitating "the sound"]
"Was that you?""Was what me?
Like, I was walkingdown the street,
and there's a little guyhaving a glass of wine, right?
And this huge guy comesbarreling down the street,
like my height,twice as wide, hammered drunk.
What I like to calla Jaeger Hulk, right?
And he's coming down the streetlike, "Jaeger!"
Punching cars and lampposts,
hurting his handsmore than anything.
Jaeger Hulkhas no real power.
He catches the little guy,like, grabs him
like a bear would a salmon.
Amazing speedfor his size.
Like, boom,just holds him, right?
And I'm like,"Oh, are they friends?
Are they lovers?"What's going on here, right?
And the little guy's like,"Who are you?
Get your hands off me."
I'm like, "Oh, they're notfriends or lovers.
This is assault."
All the big guy says is...[makes "the sound"]
And the little guyknew the sound.
He's like, "Help!Help me!"
Like, we can't, man.
It's like you steppedon a mine.
We all heard the click.We'll all die.
Take one for the team.
And he painted himlike Sherwin-Williams.
I have a T-shirtfor the soundtrack
and the film, The Harder They Come,
which starred Jimmy Cliff--yeah, it's great, right?
And here's why I bring it up.
He starred in the movie
and sang the theme songto the movie.
because you don't see thatanymore.
Like, Will Smith does that,
but he's rapping,right?
I want to see a guy
who's crooninghis own theme song.
All right?Just once, I'd like to say,
"Ladies and gentlemen,singing the theme song
"from his hit film Inception,
please welcomeLeonardo DiCaprioooooo!"
♪ A dream inside a dreaminside a dream ♪
♪ Inside a dreaminside a dream inside a dream ♪
♪ Inside a dreaminside a dream ♪
[cheers and applause]
♪ Girl, it's a dreaminside a dream ♪
♪ Inside a dreaminside a dream ♪
♪ Inside a dream
Just rockin' it.
It's "a dream inside a dream"like 29 times.
"Dream inside a dream, we mustgo deeper," that's the song.
- I have strange ambitions.I will say that.
I have really strange ambitions.
Like, most people wantto be a star.
I want to learnhow to ride a unicycle.
Just so I canride around on it
wearing one of thoseHarley-Davidson T-shirts
that on the back say,"If you can read this,
the bitch fell off."
'Cause--just so everyone's like,"How did the bitch get on?"
'Cause, if you can act toughon a unicycle,
you are the firstof your kind.
[bleep] you looking at?
Like, I don't know.
I don't knowwhat I'm looking at.
You guys are great
I play a lotof crazy crowds.
Sometimes I havebachelorette parties
in the audience,which is great,
but I played one, there was,like, four bachelorette parties
were in the audience that just--they divided the room
like a game of Risk,you know.
Like, "Charlotterules this realm."
"No, this is Lisa's realm."
[bleep]They're just going crazy.
But, like, you ever haveone of those--
I don't know if any of you guyshere have a male friend
that thinkssexism doesn't exist.
And they think anytimegirls get one up on us,
like,it's a big thing.
As if there hasn't beenan imbalance
for [bleep] centuries, right?
And this friend of minewas like, "Yeah"--
Well, here's the thinghe was complaining about.
When you seea bachelorette party,
the women wear a lot of penisaccoutrements, all right?
They have dicksall over themselves.
Dick hats,dick straws,
dick belts,dick shoes.
Just dick, dick, dickeverywhere.
And my idiot friend was like,
"Well, why--we havea bachelor party.
Why can't we have [bleep]all over us?"
I'm like, "'Cause that's[bleep] disgusting, dude."
And I'm not sayingvaginas are disgusting.
Vaginas are wonderful,okay?
But they're mysterious, okay?
Vaginas are mysterious.
Dicks are just hilarious.Dicks are just funny.
If a guy came in herewith a rubber dick
and started slapping everybody,we'd all laugh.
Maybe not the guy that got hitwith the rubber dick,
but he'd come around.
"Ha-ha, he got meright in the neck.
That was pretty hilarious."
If someone came in herewith a fake vagina,
we would demand he be tasedby security.
If you're a guyand you own a fake vagina,
you're the worst manin the world.
If you're a womanand you own a fake penis,
a dildo,you're a woman.
That's fine.That is fine.
I discovered a friend'sFleshlight by accident once.
Just washing my hands.Here's a towel.
What's--oh, my God!
We're no longer friends.
you never know what to expect,
right, when you playsomewhere new.
Like, I played New York a lot,but it's always different.
But one place I playedthat blew my mind
was Tampa, Florida,a couple years ago,
which--well,I'll tell you why.
It's not Tampa's fault.
I just played a clubthat I found out
the week before me, the actwas the Chippendale dancers,
which--yeah, and if youdon't know who those guys are,
they're very handsome,fit, athletic men,
who evidently at one pointwere wearing full tuxedos,
but then they wentthrough some kind of storm
that tore off their jacketsand shirts,
but left their cuffs and collarsand bowties behind.
Some sort of sexy tornadothey went through
on the way to a wedding.
"It's this way.Oh, [bleep]!"
And they madea living out of it.
Which, if you owna bowtie,
you've not walked aroundwith it shirtless,
get on that,that's a hot look, okay?
You will never not laughwhen you pass a mirror
in your home.
Hey, that guy's readyfor formal volleyball.
It's a good look.Right?
and I'm like,"So what are the women like
when these guys come out?They go crazy?"
And the managergot really serious and sad.
And he's like, "The women,they're [bleep] horrible, man.
"They grab my ass,my balls.
I weigh 300 pounds.I'm not a [bleep] dancer."
And he walked away to cryand drink Scotch by himself.
I'm like,"What did they do to him?"
And I thinkit's just because, look,
women, you haveall the etiquette in the world,
and thank God you're here.
Without you, this worldwould be a burnt husk.
It would be the worst.Right?
[scattered cheersand applause]
But...but you don't havestrip club etiquette.
Okay?It's not your fault.
You just don't goto strip clubs.
Men, we haveno etiquette,
but I know strip clubetiquette in my bones.
I know if I touch the [bleep],I'll get tased.
I know that [bleep].
'Cause men are disgusting,
and we have to be keptin check through violence.
We have to be.
Just like, "Titties?No touching?
"All right.Beer. Beer's good.
"♪ Drinking beerand watching titties ♪
♪ I'm [bleep] gross "
Men are disgusting.
If a woman wantsto touch a male stripper,
[bleep] 'em, no one cares.
You know?"Oh, my God, look at his balls.
"Ha ha ha.[bleep] you.
"Walk it off.[bleep] him.
I'm punchingall their balls."
Poor guy's like,"Please, stop. Stop!
Why didn't I finish college?"
'Cause there's no demandfor male strippers, right?
No woman's like,"Oh, let's go see
male strippers tonight, yeah!"
You know,it's like a fun thing.
There's always a demandfor female strippers, right?
'Cause there's alwaysthis guy.
There's always a guythat's just like,
"I've had the worst day, man.
"I just want a beerin my hand
"and some tits in my face.Blah.
No woman has ever said,
"I've had the worst day.
"I just want a glass of winein my hand
"and a set of [bleep] and balls
"banging against my faceand head.
That's all I want.Hooray!"
Never, ever, ever.
And I've triedmany times.
Like if a woman starts dancing
suggestively in front of me,
I will sit downand throw money,
wherever the hell I am.
Home Depot."[bleep] it. Here.
You're a nice lady."
Try dancing for a woman.
She'll be like, "The [bleep]are you doing right now?
Put up some drywalllike a man."
Like, look, if I wereto tear my pants off
and glitter went everywhereand I had nothing on
but a thong, yes, you're right,ladies, that would rock ass,
but...I don't do that.
I knowat least one guy's like,
"If I get crotch glitterin my face,
I'm killing him and myself."
I don't do that,but, ladies, let me ask you,
would you rather I do that,
or finish my set,let you keep drinking,
and then change the oilin all your [bleep] cars?
[scattered applause]Right? Exactly.
That's why this iswhat the strip club
for ladiesshould be like, okay?
I'll lay it outfor you, all right?
There's a country road, right?
There's some trees.
Orange and red leavesare falling
'cause it's autumnin Vermont.
There's a truck onstagewith a hood up.
"Oh, no, you've broken down"is the scenario.
The 19-year-old farmer's son,lives nearby,
looks like a young James Dean,mechanic coveralls on.
"Broke down, huh?"Wiping off his enormous hands.
"I'll take a look."Starts working on the engine.
You can look at him.He's not gonna look at you
'cause that's creepywhen a stripper's like...
Like, [bleep] off, right?He's working.
All of a sudden--"Oh, no, my coveralls got caught
"in the fan belt.Oh, [bleep], I'm naked.
Look what happened there."
[singsong]Sexy grease stains, right?
Shuts the hood.
"Hey, before you leave,do you mind
"if I wash your truckusing this bucket
of soapy sudsand my long, ropy penis?"
Flop.♪ Wash, wash, washing
♪ Your truckwith his wiener ♪
That's the strip clubfor ladies, I think.
- I, um, I'm not a big fanof catchphrases,
but there's a guyin this restaurant
in my neighborhoodthat has the best catchphrase
in the world, okay?
Like, it's an Italianrestaurant, first off,
and it's, like,checkered tablecloths,
bottles of Chiantiwith the candles in it.
Like, the name of the restaurantshould literally be...
[hums Tarantella Napoletana]
That song, apostrophe "S."It's ridiculous.
Should sing it in the phonewhen you call to order.
Like, when's this songgonna be over?
But the guy that seats you
looks like Super Mario, right,
if he, like,bought a condo.
Like, you expect him to jumpand punch nothing
and a cointo come out of the air.
And when you come in,he gets the menus.
He's like,"Table for four?
Right this way."And you follow him.
He's like--awesome little kick-step.
And he sets the menus down.
I go to this restaurantnot to eat
but to hearthis catchphrase
'cause it makes me happyfor at least a week.
Okay?Sets the menus down and goes,
[Italian accent]"Okay, guys.
It's spaghetti time,"and walks away.
Like, [bleep]-A,it's spaghetti time, Mario.
You're goddamn right.
No, [bleep] 7:30, Gary.It is spaghetti time.
Like, say thatas you drift off to sleep,
you'll have amazing dreams.
[Italian accent]It's spaghetti time.
That accent is adorable.
You give me the worst newsof my life with that accent,
I'd be at least a little bitcool with it.
"Do you have the test results,Dr. Mario?"
[Italian accent] "Yes.You got the syphilis."
"I do?All right. Meh."
"You put your pee-peein the wrong place, huh?"
[cheers and applause]
Thank you. Thanks.
I've had to cut down
because hangovers getso much more brutal
once you hit 30.You notice that?
Oh, my God.
It's like you turn a corner,and you're like, "Wha!"
Hangovers in your 20s,especially your early 20s,
you're like a cartoon character
that was in a barnthat exploded.
Right?Like, you're singed,
but you're fine.You shake, and it's gone.
You know?You're like,
"What the [bleep] happenedlast night, man?
"Brain's on fire.Got angry frogs in my stomach.
Hangovers in your 30s,you're like,
"I'm gonna have a stroke,I think.
My brain is squeezing itself.This is brutal."
In your 20s, you make plansfor your hangovers.
You're like,"I ain't doing [bleep].
"I'm gonna eat a whole bagof Ruffles.
"Family-sized bagof Ruffles.
"Watch all the Rockys. Every Rocky movie.
That's it.That's all I'm doing."
In your 30s,you're like,
"I'm gonna go to a food courtin a mall,
"so someone will catch mewhen I have
the inevitable strokethat's going to happen."
Like, I had to slow down
because I get thosekind of hangovers where--
first off, here'sthe awful thing about hangovers.
You need foodthat is bad for you.
heals your hangover.
That's brutally ironic,right?
And so you need somethingcheesy or starchy or fatty,
but I couldn't decideon a specific foodstuff,
so I'd make stuff up,you know,
and just hope the waiterwould freestyle it up.
Because deciding makesthe hurty brain hurtier, right?
So the waiter would come over,and I'm just sweating buckets,
and he's like,"What'll you have?"
And I'm like, "Just--ah! Oh!Give me a second.
"Just give me a...
"Just give me a plate ofcheese babies and a hot boy.
"Whatever that is.I don't know what it is.
"I know I just made that up.Just make it.
"Some cheese babies.Some babies made of cheese.
"Or some cheese buddies.
"Some friends of minemade of cheese.
"And a hot boy.Wait, come back.
And some ham dancers.Whatever those are."
Like, just once I wantthe waiter to know
exactly whatI'm talking about.
"Let me get a plateof cheese babies."
"Yeah, a gang or a tribe?""A tribe. And...
And a hot boy."
"What do you want his moodto be like?"
"Angry. No, melancholy.Melancholy hot boy.
And some ham dancers.""How many?"
"An armada, please!"
a Hangover Airlines.
Why the [bleep] is there nota Hangover Airlines?
Like, a specific airline--at least a section of a plane
where the hangover people go.
Like, how many timeshave you flown home
from a vacation hung over?
Each and every time?
Like, you geton Hangover Airlines,
they give youa box of Cheez-Its
and five Advil, right?
You sit down,open the armrest,
there's a tube--unlimited Gatorade.
And you waitfor the deep-dish
Chicago-style pizzato get done.
♪ Hangover Airlines
♪ Everybody,shut your [bleep] mouth ♪
Shut your mouthon Hangover Airlines.
You do not talk.You do not talk.
I am so sickof, like, 7:00 A.M. flights
where I'm sweating whiskey,
and someone just had coffee.
"Here's a pictureof my kid."
Why don't they allow knives?
I read something recently
that just made me weep
when I found out--you know Bob's Big Boy?
You know, the Big Boywith the burger, that guy?
He was a real boy.
In the '30s or something.
It was a little place,a burger place called Bob's,
the first one,and there was a little boy
who would come in,a little, fat kid,
wearing overallsand a pompadour, right,
greased up,and he would come in,
and he would sweep upafter hours
for a sack of hamburgers.
Oh, my God.
And you knowhe was a German immigrant
if it was the '30s.
[German accent] "I sweep upfor the burgers now, ja?"
[weeps, then groans]
Yes, you do, little Big Boy.
I love that they gave hima sack of burgers.
'Cause they didn't knownutrition back then.
Who eats a [bleep] sackof burgers?
They're like--they werelike the apples of the '30s.
"I don't know why he's so fatand moves so slow.
I gave him,like, seven burgers."
- So I am single,and I live alone.
Many of you guessed correctly.[scattered applause]
Thank you.Hey, the lesbians clapped.
That's really awesome.Um...
but I'm cool with it,because I know too many people
in relationshipsthat have gotten stupider
because they're with someone.
You ever met that person?
And you're just like--like, they get dumber together,
'cause they don't Google shit.
They just look to each other,
to the dumb one.
And you're like, "Yeah, like,so what they have at the party?
Pretzels? Chips?""Well, pretzels are chips."
"No, they're not."
"Danny, pretzels are chips,right?"
No, you're bothfucking stupid. Shut up.
Like, I had a guy sayto me,
"So you live alone.
What, do you cookfor yourself?"
Like, yeah, it's not the '50s,dick, yes.
I cook for myself.
You step out of an episodeof Mad Men, you know?
And so I didn't want to--when someone talks
to you like that,you don't confront 'em.
You're not like,"Oh, shut up,
You're an idiot.You're sexist."
But so what I just triedto say at least was,
"Well, I eat a lotof Hungry Man dinners."
I don't.I just wanted to say that.
But I screwed up and madea perfect Freudian slip,
and insteadI accidentally said,
"Well, I eata lot of "lonely man" dinners.
I eat a lot of lonely mandinners, I do.
And really all TV dinners shouldbe called "lonely man dinners."
Like, I want to see the adfor Lonely Man brand dinners.
Like a lumberjackin his cabin
looking out the window...
at a future he'll never have.
A single tear running downhis rapidly graying beard.
He's like 32.It shouldn't be gray, right?
And the theme song kicks in.
♪ No needto open a can ♪
♪ Grab yourselfa Lonely Man ♪
And then a faraway shotof the cabin
and a single gunshot."Lonely Man."
But they stay
on the cabin a long timeafter the shot.
So you're like,"Fuck, did he shoot himself
"or the fireplace?
What happenedto Lonely Man lumberjack?"
he's like the Brawny towel guy,
but he, like,went to 'Nam.
He's like that guy.
But this is definitely the most fun job
I've ever had.
It's a good time, but--
I was thinking about it.A friend of mine was like,
"What's the worst jobyou ever had?"
And I'm like,"Probably when I worked
in a greeting card store,all right?"
'Cause all it is all dayis this.
Please kill mewhen you come back.
Okay.Like, it's so boring.
Oh, you know what,I screwed up,
I screwed up, that isn'tthe worst job I ever had.
The worst job I ever hadwas when I was
the shovel fighterin the Ukraine.
Hands down.Hands down.
Oh, like,they take the tarp
off your tentthat's stuck in the mud,
and the sun hits you
like a fire,like you burn.
You haven't been outin the sun for so long,
and you're skinny--I weighed, like, 95 pounds.
I'd been therefor over a year, I think.
Couldn't even count the days,right?
And they give me my shovel,and my hand catches it
in a reflex 'cause it's allI know anymore, right?
And they put mein the pit,
and I'm like,"What am I fighting now?
"A wild boar again?Two guys at once?
I've killed so many.My soul is dead." Right?
And this--I look, and it's Randy.
It's my best friend Randy.
And I knowthe warlord put him there
'cause he wants to killwhat love is left in my heart.
Randy used to draw picturesin the sand with a stick,
and it's the only thingthat would ever make me smile,
and it felt strangeto use those muscles again,
do you know what I mean?
And he looked at mewith eyes of mercy
and saying, "Please,"but, like, not please,
like, "Please, please kill me."
And I hit him.
And I hit him againand again and again.
And I knew he wouldn't get up,but I took the shovel
and put it to his neck,and I looked
at the warlord,and the hand went up,
and the thumb went down.
It always goes down.
And I cut off his head!
Oh, God, Randy.
Oh, God,I'm so sorry.
Yeah, that's definitelythe worst job I ever had.
Worst job ever.
Freaked out everyoneon that one.
That was great.
- I'll tell you a quick story,guys,
about why you should alwaysbe afraid.
When you're, like, alonein your house
and it's dark,and you're like,
"Meh.I shouldn't be scared."
You should.You should.
Not to burstyour bubble there,
but I'll tell you a storyabout why you should always.
I was 19 years old,
and a friend and I
were at his mom's house,
just hanging out,you know,
having a two-man party,right?
Ever have one of those?
Malt liquor and weedis all you need
when you're 19.
You didn't needother people.
Who needs other people?
You have an altered mind state
and your best friend, right?
And nothing about thisever entered our mind
to even say,"This is really gay,"
but it was, all right?
But we're just in the house,
we got our St. Ides,
which, holy--it's like--it tastes
like melted nailsif you've never had that stuff.
But when you're 19,it doesn't matter,
and we drank it up,right,
we got really high,and we're dancing,
dancing around the house.Music blaring.
Just the two of us like,"This isn't gay at all!"
Probably did a cooler dancethan that though.
That was probably it.Big Big Daddy Kane fan.
should probably go to sleep."
Right?Probably go to sleep.
It's getting late,so let's hit the hay.
So he goes downstairsto his room.
I go into his mom's room.She's out of town.
Don't get weird.And about to go to sleep,
and I hear him go,"Hey, man,
what the [bleep]?"from the basement.
And he's like,"Come down here."
I come down there, and he'sholding a can of Guinness
with the pop-top open, right?
It was like a peel-top deal.
A warm can of Guinnesshe got from his shelf
that he brought backfrom Dublin on a family trip.
He's like,"Why did you drink this?"
I'm like,"I didn't drink that, man.
"The fridge is full of beer.
Why would I drink that?"
He's like,"Well, then who did this?"
And there's a couchthat's made like a bed,
right, with a pillowand a blanket.
There's even one of the littlecuffs, the little blanket cuffs,
over the--you know,the sheet over the thing,
like, that your mom made,like a sheet's gonna cut you
in the neck somehow.
Just makes a thing,all right?
And I'm like,"I didn't do that."
And he's like,"Dude, don't [bleep] with me."
And I'm like,"You don't [bleep] with me."
"Dude, please don't [bleep]with me."
"You don't [bleep] with me."
And we went from,in the space of five minutes,
saying the same thingover and over,
going from,"Don't [bleep] with me,"
to "Please, please,
"please don't [bleep] with meright now.
"Please, just tell me.
"Just be honest.[sobbing]
"Just tell mewho did this,
so I can sleep."
And we finally realizedneither one of us did it.
We swore on everythingwe believed in.
Right?Someone's in the house.
He get's abaseball bat.
I get a frying pan,
'cause evidently,that's my weapon.
I love that "boon" soundwhen you hit someone
with a frying pan.
I love just that "boon-boon"when you hit somebody.
Frying pan.That's what I--
not a knife, a frying pan,
'cause I'm a cartoon,right?
And we're goingthrough the house,
and it's just the drunkest,stupidest SWAT team
you've ever seenof two guys, right?
Neither of us werein the military,
but every time one of uswould go ahead...
"I don't knowwhat you're trying to--"
And every time we wentto open a door,
it waslike a minor heart attack.
Like, it was horrifying.
Just like, "Oh, God...
Are you ready?Are you ready?
We looked everywherein that house.
We lookedin [bleep] photo albums, okay?
There was nothingin that house.
Nothing.And we finally just dropped
our weapons and just decidedghosts are real.
and we believein ghosts now.
The two of us.
It's like we createda religion like that, right?
Out of fear.
And we're just like,"Okay, ghost,
"Go ahead,take whatever you want,
"Have some more beer,make a bed.
"Didn't know you neededto sleep.
"You're dead and all,but okay.
"Just don't kill usas we go to sleep.
We're so [bleep] tired.We got to go to sleep."
and we both went to bed.
We went to bed afterall that evidence we found.
We went to bed.
You ever beenthat level of drunk
and stone tired?
Where just, like, someonecould stab me in the neck,
but, as long as they do itwhile I'm sleeping,
I'm so [bleep] tiredright now.
I'm so tired, you guys.
We went to bed, okay?
and I come out of the room,
and I hear Bryancoming up the stairs.
And I hear him say,
not to me,
'cause I'm, like,rooms away,
"Oh, how's it going?"
I come around the corner,
and there'sa tiny homeless woman
sitting on the stairs,
looking at nothing,picking a scab on her hand.
She gets up,walks through the screen door,
out of our lives forever.
She was in the house
the whole night!
The whole night!
Oh, my God.
I still to this day go,
"Hoo-ah,"when I think about it.
And I don't knowhow we did not find her.
How?We looked everywhere.
She had to have been,like, when we opened
a closet door,like on the ceiling, like...
And when we shut the door,it's like, boom,
Hides in the walls like that guyin that X-Files episode.
Like, how did she get awayfrom us?
But thank God she did.
Thank Godshe got away.
Because wewould have killed her.
We would have takenher life.
That level of adrenaline--
when you're lookingfor someone in a house
and you find someone...
You don't go,"Get out of here.
What are you doing?How dare you?"
No.When you're looking for person
and you find person,you kill person.
"Aah!"Bong, bong, bong, bong.
Bong, bong, bong,bong, bong, bong.
"Oh, God,oh, God.
"Oh, God, it's a woman.I killed her.
No, no, why?"
I would be cryingto this day.
I'd bein Guinness World Record
for the guy that criesthe longest.
No matter how goodmy life was.
"Matt, this is your second termas President."
[sobbing]"Yeah, it is."
"You have a beautiful wife,three healthy children."
"Why are you always crying?"
"When I was 19, I killeda teenage homeless girl
with a frying pan."
Thank God that never happened.
The killing.The story happened.
That would suck, right?
"We listenedto that whole thing?
That's not real?"
which, if you'venever been, gets
"God doesn't love you anymore"cold in the winter.
Like, literally I usedto walk around like...
[coughs]"The hell's in my throat?
"Oh, it's my balls.
"They've gone that highfor warmth.
"Oh, I'll just catch the bus.
"My nipples have razored holesin my shirt.
"I look like a fat [bleep].
I'll just go."
Like, they only havefour months of sunshine
every year, right?
And when that first dayof sunshine happens,
people come outof their houses
like molesout of the ground.
"Oh, the sweet kissof sunlight.
I missed you."
Like, people lose their mindsin the summer in Chicago.
Case in point: they haveamazing pub crawls
in Chicagoduring the summer.
Like, I was on a clown pub crawlwhen I lived in Chicago.
Oh, yeah.Oh, yeah.
Like, 85 men and womendressed as clowns.
I'm talking the wig,the nose,
the flower that squirts gin,the pants,
the shoes,the whole thing.
85 men and womendressed as clowns.
Half of us took acid,
which, oh, that won't snapyour brain in half.
Oh, yes, it will.Yes, it totally will.
And we rented a school bus
and hired a sober guyto drive us
Did not planthe pub crawl.
85 drunken, acid-headed clownsgoing to random bars.
And I'm talking, like,old man bars, right?
Where there's an old manjust wiping it down.
There's, like, an old rummy,his best friend,
they've known each otherforever,
just, like, sitting there,like, "Slow night, huh?"
"Yeah, slow night."And we roll in,
they're like,"What the [bleep]?"
[sings Entrance of the Gladiators]
♪ Time to do shots
♪ Peeing on the floor
♪ Vomiting on my best friend
And just stumbling,breaking windows
with our faces.
At one point, a guy wasstanding on top of the bar
and was like, "Yeah,"and this girl fell
and grabbed his belt and pulledhim through a beer cooler.
Kudshh!And we're all like, "No!"
And then he stood up,"I'm okay!"
And the placewent [bleep] bananas.
There is no better moment
than "Oh, I think he's dead.He's alive! Yeah!"
and there's a copat the curb in his squad car.
Now, we didn't thinkit was a cop in a squad car.
Well, we thoughtthe squad car was a dragon.
We were that high.
Like, "It's a dragon.Oh, it's asleep though.
And we crossed the street.
We had all kinds of commands.
"Clowns, stop.Clowns, go."
Hold up, like, a barf bagand we'd all run,
like, all this stuff.
And we're crossing the street,
and the copgets on his loudspeaker.
Now, if you've never hada cop talk to you
through a loudspeaker,
it's meant to be heardover a [bleep] riot, okay?
They're super loud.
And he's like...[imitates static]
And we, like, stopped
in the middleof the street.
Like, it took us a second,like, looking around,
whether it was God or, like,a bird or something.
"What?What just happened?"
And we're like, "Oh, ha.He can't mean us.
"We're inconspicuousright now, you guys.
We're blending in."
Acid-headed logic, right?
But we didn't--once we realized
what it was,we all decided
to stop at once.
Right?We had, like, a hive mind,
like, an acid hive mind.
But we didn't just stop.
We all, like, pop-lockbreak-dance froze.
And we each chosea different pose.
Like, each one of us
was a different mannequinof casualness.
Like, "What time is it?I have a newspaper.
I work at a bank.I have a dog that I'm walking."
You're not blending in,
you forest of frozen clowns.
You stupid, stupid forestof frozen clowns.
And so we're sitting there,
just waiting, right,sitting there, like--
like the cop's a T. rex,right,
and he can't see usif we don't move.
He'll just walk by, right?
And we're all sitting there,forest of frozen clowns,
and it's dead silent.
It's the kind of silencelike before a gun fight
in the Old West, right?
All you can hearis tumbleweeds and wind.
And the cop gets backon his loudspeaker,
swear to God,says this...
"Quit clowning around."
Son of a bitch!
Oh, hilarious cop!
You made me pissmy clown suit.
You win today,hilarious cop.