"I don't care what anybody says, you can't fuck in a hammock. And if you say you know somebody who has successfully fucked in a hammock—and by successful, I mean stayed in the hammock for at least a minute while performing any moderately difficult sexual act—then I say you're a liar. And if you say you have yourself successfully fucked in a hammock, then I say bring me the evidence. I want photos. I want film. I want a courtroom sketch artist. I want the truth."
That's the kind of stuff I say into my iPhone now. I tape myself working on my material, trying to be funny, funnier, because I quit my real job and am trying to make a living as a standup comedian.
"Hell, I bet 90 percent of you can't perform a moderately difficult sexual act for one minute while lying in your bed."
Two years ago, I was making $125,000 a year as an attorney for a cell phone company. Incredible money. And I quit to spend six nights a week at open mics in Philadelphia, New York, Boston, and DC. I slept in my car, ate peanut butter sandwiches for every meal, but still ran through my savings.
"And, hey, if you're a dude, have you ever been fucking a woman—or a man, I want to be inclusive here—have you ever been fucking some tall person whose legs were, like, five or six inches longer than yours and realized there are certain sexual positions that are unavailable to you? For example, if your legs are that much shorter than your partner's, then it's too damn awkward to do it doggy style. You have to yoga your dick up to them. You feel like a wiener dog trying to fuck a Saint Bernard."
Okay, let me correct. It was my and my wife's savings. I bankrupted us. She threatened to leave and then left. Good for her. She got the house and the car. I kept my iPhone.
"And, okay, I recognize that if I were an actual wiener dog and I somehow climbed up an actual Saint Bernard and managed to blow my actual doggy load into her—or him—then I'd be the ultimate wiener-dog pimp. But I am a human man, and I couldn't fuck my human wife from behind because her human legs were seven inches longer than mine. The love of my life divorced me because our inseams had irreconcilable differences."
After most shows, I text my ex-wife: Do you miss me?
She types: Were you funny tonight?
I type: Some people laughed. Some people didn't.