Me: (Laughing.) Good. I think they’ve (making a circular motion around my breasts with my hand), you know, they’ve brought countries together … these.
Russell: Well, what they’ve done is … they’ve torn me apart.
Me: (Laughing.) I kinda … like you a whole lot.
Russell: Well, I’m an interesting man.
Me: (Laughing.) Yeah, you might be … yeah …
Russell: This is just a small fraction of my personality. After this, you know, I have to make you cum right! And cum and cum and cum and cum. And cum! If I have to, I’ll sleep with Hitler to get to you. I’ve trolled through an endless stream of human flesh only for this climactic moment. I’d commit genocide with my cock to make you cum!
I had just been serenaded by the “Shakespeare of bullshit” and it was spectacular! The whole time he was on his sexual rant, I was thinking, Wow, it really is like what everyone says it is! He was this tornado of energy, hormones, and testosterone. He’d throw everything at you, and if he didn’t get you with his humor then he’d try something else. It was overwhelming at times, but pretty fucking captivating. He was a “sexual Cookie Monster!” He just had to have it all and wasn’t afraid of making a mess.
I realized, from the moment we met, that I was in the presence of an all-powerful Jizz-Wizard (which is a lot like a Jedi Master but with a significantly greater amount of jizz), so there was a good chance I might get some unwanted spray on me. But he was like a porno-Gallagher! It was part of the show, and if I really got worried I could always wear my Duran Duran poncho. Talk about a wet mess! Unless you want a handful of wet spots on your clothes around the waist area, do not forget to take it with you the next time you go see Simon, Jon, Nick, and Roger. Think of it as added protection. It’s just like carrying an American Express card except this protects you from female ejaculation. So don’t leave home without it.
Speaking of insane experiences, there are crazy moments in your life and then there are fucking crazy moments. But when I traveled to Lake Tahoe to interview Craig Robinson and Rob Corddry for their movie Hot Tub Time Machine, I was in store for a motherfucking crazy memory that we still get high from. Craig came from stand-up and Rob came from sketch comedy. They are both seriously funny fuckers, so I knew it was going to be every bit worth the long drive. But when you get to play with “bullshit artists” of this caliber, the only boundaries on what you can do are in your imagination and with hotel security.
After an exhausting road trip up a mountain in a blackout snowstorm, a near-death experience almost driving our crew van off of a cliff, and hours and hours of backtracking due to zero cell service in what felt like a re-creation of Planes, Trains & Automobiles, all eight of us finally arrived, slightly worse for wear, at the location, sometime in the wee hours of the morning. What was meant to be an intimate interview with just the three of us in a quiet hotel suite got moved, for some reason, to the center of the hotel’s main restaurant. We were assured by management that the place would be very quiet during our scheduled interview time, so we were free to be as No Good as we wanted to be without fear of unassuming families being offended to the point of tears as they snack on their holiday clams casino. We took over the fireplace at the center of the restaurant and set up shop.
An hour past their scheduled time with us, there was no sign of the guys, but there was an influx of parents with their kids starting to trickle in. I started to get a little nervous. What I was planning on doing during this interview was very much in line with the sordid nature of the film and was, most definitely, TV-MA. When Craig and Rob finally arrived at the restaurant two hours late, it landed us smack dab in the middle of happy hour. At that point, what seemed like a restaurant at capacity immediately transformed into standing room only once my celebrity guests were spotted. The place was a fucking madhouse! Kourosh led the boys through the craze over to me at our sectioned off area. We were all so happy to see each other, it felt like a full-on family reunion: all big hugs and kisses. Rob scopes all the onlookers and says to me, “We’re gonna do your dirty interview here, in the middle of these … families?” Craig upon hearing Rob’s question simply says, “This is kinda interesting.” I sat them down, handed them each a cocktail, and assured them that we had taken the necessary precautions of blocking the views and that the place was so noisy no one would be able to hear us anyway. Of course, I had no idea how much of that was actually true.
Their publicist, who knew us well, came over and stood with Kourosh about four feet away from the action, which I’m sure was just in case she didn’t like something going down. Leaving Kourosh within dick-punching distance. We all took a minute to enjoy our cocktails and assess the situation. Then, with a very mischievous look on both their faces, we mutually decided to just go for it. What ensued was a game of How Far Can We Push This? And before it was over, we would find out. I had a surprise ending in store, inspired from the snowstorm the night before, that I was, mostly, sure would work. I looked at Kourosh inquisitively to gauge if it was time to bring out the big guns, he looked around the room and gave me a reassured wink, and my inside voice said Fuck it!
Me: It’s goddam happy hour and somebody needs to black out.
(Rob, Craig, and I all raise and clink our glasses.)
When there’s a bunch of guys in a hot tub together …
Rob: Whoa! I just got hard, right! (Very loudly.) When you said that I got immediately hard! Did that show up? (He inquisitively looks down at his crotch.)
Craig: And that just got me hard. (Very loudly.) Oh my goodness!
Me: Wait, wait, was it a full chub? Because that seems overzealous.
Rob: You said four guys in a hot tub and I immediately got erect.
Craig: Stop doin’ that, Rob! (He blushes as he checks out his own crotchel area.)
Rob: Four guys in a hot tub.
(Craig’s face lights up.)
Craig: Stop! (He yells with a huge smile on his face.)
Rob: What’s happening? Is it getting … (He makes a gesture with his finger of a growing penis.) … flaccid and then…?
Me: You have to be careful because he is going to poke me in the eye.
Craig: No, it’s hard!
Me: Let’s make a toast to two men going down on each other because they lost a bet.
(I introduce them to the blowjob shot. We all raise our shot glasses and toast.)
Me: Here’s to the blowjob.
Craig: True dat.
Rob: Cheers.
Me: I was really excited about coming to Tahoe for one reason and one reason only … (I reach over to the table, covered in empty shot glasses, and pick up the lid of a silver serving dish that had been sitting there since before they arrived.) The amazing powder … (I lift the lid, revealing a ginormous mound of a cocaine-looking substance on a beautiful eighteen-inch, circular mirrored tray. It looked like a scene from the movie Scarface and they did not see it coming.) … that they have here in Tahoe.
(Both Craig and Rob stare at it in bewilderment. I’m try to gauge whether this is too far for them by looking at their publicist, to see the expression on her face. She was laughing so I continue.)
Me: This is the reason why we are here.
Improvising what could have been a deleted scene right out of the HBO series The Wire, Rob pokes a finger into the powder and touches it to the tip of his tongue assessing the quality of the “cocaine” set before him. I pick up what he’s putting down and snap into character, reaching in with my finger and rubbing it on my gums. Craig works himself into a frenzy.
Craig: Oh that’s real!
Me: My shit’s numb. (A bunch of it falls off my finger and into my lap.) I think my whole crotch is numb.
And then the unthinkable happens. We had pushed the boundaries of language and good taste and cocaine use in a public setting. Now it was time to see if we could get ourselves kicked out.
Craig: Powder fight!!! (Yelling.)
(Craig picks up a pile of the “cocaine” and thr
ows it at me and Rob. Oh, it’s on. We in turn grab handfuls and fling them at Craig. Mayhem ensues. The powder goes everywhere. All over the walls, the fireplace, the chairs, the table, the floor. And it keeps going on and on until the three of us are completely covered in white powder. I end up snorting lines off of Craig’s cheek and Rob’s bald head. Cocaine is flying everywhere. It’s like a New Jack City Christmas special.)
Me: (With powder covering my nose and mouth, I settle back into my chair feeling accomplished … and a little bit of a sugar high.) I love Tahoe.
Rob: (Covered in powder.) I actually don’t think it’s cool that you guys used real cocaine for this.
Craig: (His blue T-shirt is completely coated.) I think it’s very cool! What’s wrong?
Rob: (Defending his argument.) I don’t think it’s cool …
Craig: (Cutting him off and speaking very quickly like he’s coked out of his mind.) What’s the problem? It’s very cool. It’s all good. Everything is good!
(We all laugh uncontrollably at the spectacle and the mess we just made inside this nice family establishment.)
Their publicist was laughing so hard, she was doubled over. The scene, when it was over, was surreal. Mission “Fuck Shit Up” accomplished! When we see each other now, we can’t help but reminisce about the “The Great Cocaine Battle of Lake Tahoe.” The only downside is none of us have had a healthy relationship with powdered sugar since.
From the outrageousness of Rob and Craig, it makes perfect sense to head over to the brutal honesty of one of my favorite female stand-ups, Margaret Cho. To me, Margaret has always been a trailblazer. She’ll talk about anything, no matter how disgusting, personal, or fucking bizarre it may be. I love sitting down with a comedienne who has no limits on the subject matter or filter in terms of how far she will go.
Margaret Cho came to our studio to promote a comedy special and ended up staying for over an hour, downing cocktails and talking smack about tampons, bestiality, lesbian sex, you name it. Of course, nothing was off-limits. During the entire interview, we found comfort embracing the famous NGTV three-foot-long plush cock pillows. I hugged the red one while she fondled the purple:
Margaret: This is kind of reminding me of when guys kinda won’t get hard. That’s the worst. When they won’t get hard.
Me: It’s a coke hard-on. (Referring to her limp cock pillow.)
Margaret: Yeah … the coke hard-on! You’re just workin’ that dick. You’re like workin’ at it like a … like a baby bird trying to pull a worm out of the ground!
(I start working the cock pillow up and down while Margaret repeatedly makes a face like she’s tugging on something with her mouth.)
Me: For days!
Margaret: You know what? Do they have an uncut version? Then you could just pull it back. (Proceeds to pretend to pull foreskin back from the head of the cock.)
Me: That would be … you could almost … like it would be a foot warmer.
Margaret: Yeah. (Laughing.)
Me: You could pull it up over your feet like UGGs. (Demonstrating it with the pillow.)
Margaret: I don’t know. I’m not always that into foreskin but…’cause it’s kinda … well no, ’cause sometimes it’s sort of like jerking off a long sleeve. It’s like … and it also collects things inside.
Me: Does it now? Tell me what you know, Margaret Cho!
Margaret: It tends to collect some things inside. I don’t like … Sometimes I have problems with guys just because … like … all of their equipment, it’s just, it’s like, it’s some, there’s a lot of opportunities for dirty. A lot of opportunity, especially balls. (She lifts up the cock pillow’s balls and uses them to illustrate the point.) Because, okay, balls, ’cause you have the dick …
Me: Yeah.
Margaret: But then the balls sort of get the ass and the dick dirt. Not just the ass dirt but the dick dirt. So it’s really always kind of gross to suck on balls because you have the best of both worlds or the worst of both worlds of the ass and the dicks so you have a lot, anything in here is a bad idea. I just don’t like to lick balls that much, do you?
Me: Okay, well, what! It really depends on the … Sorry … Yes … I know, I know … guys really don’t like it when you ignore the balls, but, however, I have to ask because some girls really prefer them shaved.
Margaret: Oh …
Me: So if you’re worried about dirt … like maybe … maybe waxed is better?
Margaret: I don’t know if they need to, like, wax them. I think that they should just kind of trim them. Just be ball-aware. Just check yourself before you wreck yourself and just be ball-aware ’cause it’s really … it could be gamey down there. It gets, you know …
Me: Yes.
Margaret: ’Cause I really enjoy giving head but it’s just … it can be … it can be musty and a little bit bleachy.
Me: (Nodding.)
Margaret: And I don’t know what it is? It’s just bad and guys don’t think about it ’cause they want their dick sucked, but they don’t think about the reality of their dicks being sucked because they’ve never sucked a dick, or they haven’t sucked a dick in a while!!
Me: Or they’re lying!!!
(The crowd howls.)
Me: Hold on, we need to rewind for just a second. She likes to suck dick! Let’s just get that out in the open.
Margaret: Do you like to?
Me: Yes. It can be fun. It can be good.
Margaret: I think it’s really fun and really great …
Me: However, I don’t like the earmuff handles. (Gesturing two hands on each side of my head like most guys attempt during a blowjob.) I don’t like that.
Margaret: Oh.
Me: When there’s that whole thing going on … (Gesturing my head being forced to go up and down.) I don’t … STOP … with the pressure on the head.
Margaret: I mean I know what I’m doing!
Me: I will find my way.
Margaret: Yeah … as long as it’s clean. Like as long as it’s, the area … it’s … I mean I like to eat ass … I, I love it! I think it’s good.
(We high five to the audience screaming YEAH!!)
Me: Not many people would admit that on camera, and that’s why Margaret Cho is the bomb!
Margaret: Thank you. I think it’s important to eat ass. I think it’s good. I think it’s really … I think it’s really healing … and it’s a beautiful thing; it’s a beautiful gift.
Me: It’s the gift that keeps on giving really.
Margaret: It’s a gift that you could give to somebody ’cause then they get into it and then later, you know, they’re like still into it, you know, and they think about you and they get a nice warm feeling.
Me: Hold on. Time out. What happens … because there needs to be advice to women that would like to eat ass … what do you do with the dingleberry? What do you do? You go down there and you’re like … it happens! One needs to know.
Margaret: Well, they’re not as good as chocolate chips so you’ve gotta dispense, you gotta get rid of them.
Me: Get rid!
Margaret: I’d say flick it! Flicking.
Me: Okay. Flicking is okay?
Margaret: Flicking is good. I think just eat around it. Just eat around. Do it like a vegetarian would, just eat around it. Don’t eat that part.
Me: Do you do it on a first date?
Margaret: I eat ass on a first date. Yeah. It sort of depends on the person.
Me: It always depends on the person …
Margaret: But yeah, of course! Of course. I’d eat ass, but eat ass last. Eat ass as your last supper.
Me: ’Cause after that you really don’t want to make out.
Margaret: No. It’s sort of the last … it’s like an after-dinner mint.
And that was just the beginning. An hour and a half later when the interview was over, I walked Margaret out.
“Do you do stand-up?” she asked me.
“Nooooo. That shit’s scary!” I said. “I don’t know ho
w anybody does that.”
“Well you’re funny and you should. We need more girls.”
In my mind, stand-up seemed like the most terrifying thing in the entire world. There you are in full view of everyone and in all your glory. Except it doesn’t feel glorious. They can see you, but you can’t see them. You’re, literally, standing under a spotlight while everyone in the room laughs at you as you spill your guts. You might as well be giving everyone a live interpretation of “Goatse.” It’s finally your chance to shine, but instead of landing who wants to be a millionaire, you’ve ended up naked and afraid in a room full of people who all fancy themselves comedians, but are too pussy to open up those cheeks and bend over. The air is thick with judgement, jealousy, and drunks who demand laughter—clown!! You’re the jester in the court of public opinion. The jury of your peers have just spent the day at a shitty go-nowhere job only to find out, when they got home, their kid got expelled from school for drawing pictures of dicks in art class. Now, having spent the last two hours fighting with their spouse about whether they should finally put granny in a home or continue to let her run around the neighborhood naked screaming “Heil Hitler,” are expecting you to make them laugh. Personally, I would rather twist my boobs into a bow tie.
I could never, ever, ever, ever, ever do that … until I was given an offer I couldn’t refuse.
I was asked to roast Jack Black by the New York Friars Club. Whoa. Again. For a couple of reasons, whoa! Reason number one: The Friars Club is the OG (that’s original gangsta for those who think MLK Day is a celebration of milk) when it comes to roasting. They were punching nuts way before the Comedy Central Roasts. A good fifty-four years, in fact. When the feet of their inaugural roastee, Maurice Chevalier were being held to the fire in 1949, Bing Crosby was crooning about how to treat a lady. And when Comedy Central’s first victim, Denis Leary, was being served a chili dog in 2003, Ja Rule was rapping about how to treat dat ass! This was the house built by Jerry Lewis, Jack Benny, Milton Berle, Freddie Roman, Dean Martin, Bob Hope, George Burns, Johnny Carson, Sammy Davis Jr., and Lucille Ball, to name a few. This was where it all began. And THEY just invited ME to come slay with the best of the best! Me, who was already trying to figure out how to make a bow tie knot with my breasts?
Everybody Curses, I Swear! Page 44