Louis CK One Night Stand (2005)

[bunniefuu]

[male announcer]
HBO presents

One Night Stand,

with comedian Louis C.K.

Ladies and gentlemen,
Louis C.K.

[applause]

All right; thank you.

Thank you very much.

Thanks, you guys;
that's very nice.

Thank you.

How you doing,
all right?

Good.

Good; this is good.
You're out.

Being out is good.

It is.

I don't go out anymore.

I have a baby now,
so I don't go out.

Some of you have babies,
but you don't love them,

so you're here;
that's cool.

No, I mostly just go out
with my daughter.

I went to the park
with her the other day.

I was at this park and--
New York City park--

and they had these "No Drinking"
signs at the park,

but it doesn't say,
"No Drinking."

It has a picture of, like,
a martini glass

with a line through it.

Are those really the people
causing the problems

with the drinking
in the parks?

Are they reaching
their target audience

with a martini glass,
really?

Shouldn't there be, like,
a bottle in a bag

with a line through it?

Do you see people at this park
at 4:00 in the morning:

"Hey, m*therf*cker!"

I try to go to movies,
but movies are all shit now.

They are; they're all shit.

Like they just have
this machine that just--

just makes shit.

I try to see--
I rented a movie.

I rented that Jesus movie,
where they beat the shit

out of Jesus
for a couple hours.

Wow, they kicked his ass.

What happened?

What, did he key
somebody's Camaro?

What did the guy do?

Look, I didn't like
the Jesus movie.

I thought it was
a shitty movie.

And people get offended
when you tell them that,

like you're saying
something wrong.

It's like, "I thought
the Jesus movie sucked."

And they're like,
"Hey, man."

Like, what?
He's not in it.

Who gives a shit?

Like Jesus cares about
Mel Gibson's movie, you know.

Look, I was raised Catholic,
so I know He did that for me,

and I appreciate it.

You know, thank you.

He should have asked first,
you know.

I would have said,
"I'm all set;

I don't need that done,"
because--

a little presumptuous.

Only because--
Look; here's the thing.

I was raised Catholic,
and I'm not anymore,

because they--
look, if they're right,

I am f*cked;
I'm going to hell.

I am,
because I'm really a--

I do wrong shit a lot.

Man, it's really--
I'm going to hell; I know it.

And I don't want
to go to hell,

and really because
I don't like new places.

That's really the reason.

'Cause I'm afraid
I'll go to hell,

I won't know where
to sign up for shit,

I'll be all confused--

like the first day of school,
you know?

I wonder, is there, like,
a schedule to hell?

How organized
is your damnation?

Like, do they first--
do they put you in one room,

and some monster fucks you
up the ass for 1,000 years?

You come out,
you're like,

"They ain't f*cking around
in there, I tell you.

"I don't recommend that room.

That was a drag."

Then they take you and they
put you in another room,

and they shit on you--
or I don't know

what the f*ck
they're doing down there,

but what if hell's
not like that?

What if I'm just standing
in a hallway in hell, like,

"What do I do?
Where do I go?"

Some demon walks up to me.

Hey, [growls].

And I'm like,
"Woo! Demon."

And the demon's like,
"Come on; suck my d*ck."

Now I'm blowing a demon in hell,
and it's horrible.

I'm thinking,
"I shouldn't have lied so much,"

or whatever.

But here's my question:

What if, when I'm done blowing
the demon in the hallway--

which, how do you know
when you're done

blowing a demon
in the hallway?

I guess, when he comes fire ants
on you, whatever.

When I'm done blowing
the demon in the hallway,

what if some guy in charge
of hell walks up to me and goes,

"Hey, man, you didn't
have to blow that guy, you know.

"He just hangs out here.

"He's not part of your damnation
or anything.

What did you blow him for?"

I just assumed you're supposed
to blow people.

He said, "Suck my d*ck,"
so I, you know--

"So, say no.
What's so hard about that?

"Jesus.

"Look, man;
you better pace yourself.

"You're down here forever.

"You're gonna blow
a lot of demons

"and elephants--
all kinds of shit.

Don't be freelancing in the
hallways, for Christ's sakes."

And also, you gotta die
to go to hell,

and I don't want to die.

I like my life;
I'm very happy.

I'm married,
and I love my wife.

I love her very much.

My wife hates me.

She f*cking hates me.

She hates me so much.

Like, that's what she does.

Like, if you asked her,
"What did you do today?"

"I f*cking hate that guy;
that's what I did today.

I hate Louis."

She is so mad at me
all the time.

Here's the latest thing:
the other day,

she got really mad;
she said to me,

"You know what you did?

"You filled the dishwasher
with dishes,

you put the soap in,
and you didn't turn it on."

And I'm like,
"Oh, shit.

What are we going to do now?"

But here's the part where she
blows my mind.

This is amazing
when she gets to this level.

She says, "Well,
why didn't you turn it on?"

Like I have a reason
for not turning it on.

And I'm like,
"Can't I just be stupid?

"Can't it just be
that I'm a f*cking idiot,

"that I filled the dishwasher,
and then I went, 'Duh,'

and I walked away?"

I can live with that.

I'm cool with that.

But she says,
"No, why'd you do it?"

Which means I decided
not to do it.

Do you know how much more
of an assh*le that makes me?

That means I filled
the dishwasher,

and then I went,
"You know what?

"f*ck her;
I ain't turning it on."

"She can suck my d*ck
if she thinks

"I'm pressing
that On button.

"I'll fill it, but I don't
f*cking press On;

not in my own house."

Why would I do that?

That would be crazy.

The thing that she's
usually mad about is simple.

She says that I don't listen
to her when she's talking.

And I don't,

but it's not because I don't
love her, blah, blah, blah;

it's because--

I try to listen;
I really do.

When she talks,
I just stare at her face.

I'm like, "Come on,
bring the story."

But somehow, I'm like,
"What the f--"

I can't do it;
I tried.

'Cause every story gets divided
into 50 stories

that all branch out
into these crazy--

And I'm like,
"Holy shit."

I've got ADD;
I can't do it.

I'm like,
"f*cking please."

But I try--
Every time I try,

because I love
this Ret*rded woman,

so I try really hard
to listen to her stories.

Other people don't even try.

We go to parties,
she starts talking,

people just walk away like,
"f*ck this.

"That lady's crazy.

Who would waste time
listening to that crap?"

Me.

She can't help it.

I really feel bad for her,
because the thing is

that every word of this story
gets her so excited

that she wants to f*cking
run with it.

She can't f*cking just break
through and get to the end,

or even the beginning.

This is my wife telling
a story:

She's like, "Guess what happened
to my mom today.

"You remember I told you my mom,
how when she was in college--

"Not when she went to Michigan;
when she transferred.

"Remember,
'cause that guy got weird

"nd she had to leave
'cause he was--

"Not the Iranian guy;
that was a different story.

"That guy--actually,
I think he was Persian.

I heard that Persia
actually split--"

What the f*ck
are you talking about?

Jesus Christ!

Pick a thing!

Have some consideration
for the f*cking listener.

I don't do that.

Here's me telling a story:

"I bought a tomato,
and I ate it, and it was good."

That's a story
anyone can follow.

It's about a tomato
the whole time.

I like being married, though.

I do; I really like it.

I seriously do.

We were having sex--
my wife and I--

a couple of weeks ago,

which is amazing,
that we did that,

because we never have sex.

Never.

Because we have a baby,
and our baby's a f*cking assh*le

and won't let us have sex.

No, f*ck--that kid's a jerk,
man, seriously.

Every time, she's got
some urgent shit in her room.

"Papa, come in here!"

"I a min--"
"Now!"

"Okay." I go in there;
"What's up?"

"I need a pair of pants
to put on my pony."

[with mock concern]
Wow. Holy shit.

I'm trying to f*ck your mom
in there.

Would you give me
a break?

Can't a guy f*ck your mom
for a minute?

There is no sex, man.

I had no idea that marriage just
means no sex.

No, none, f*cking none.

I have friends that are thinking
of getting married,

and they say funny shit like,

"Hey, you know,
I don't know if I could do it,

"because I don't know
if I could have sex

with one woman
for the rest of my life."

I'm like,
"Don't worry about that shit."

You're going to have sex
with zero women

for the rest of your life.

That's a lot less than one.

One woman--who the f*ck
do you think you are?

Where'd you get that fantasy?

I'd love to have sex
with one woman

for the rest of my life--
any one woman.

Big fat dead lady
with a beard--

I'd f*ck her every day.

I'd be proud to have her.

That's not usually
my problem.

These days,
my problem is very simple.

It's trying to find a place
in my house

where I can masturbate
without somebody bothering me.

And that's getting
really difficult.

There's nowhere
to go anymore.

She's got her mother staying
with us too, in the guest room,

and I'm on the streets now.

I got nowhere to go.

Like, now I know,
when I see a guy

on the West Side Highway
jerking off in plain daylight--

That's not a homeless guy;

that's a married man
right there.

He's got nowhere to go.

"f*ck it--f*ck you.

"Go ahead and look, man;
I got nothing to hide.

What else am I going to do?"

It's not fair, man.

I'm 37 and I own my home.

I should be able to just stand
in the living room:

"How you doing honey?

Good morning."

But I can't.

I've got to hide.

I'm down in the cellar
by the boiler,

like a troll down there.

[growls]

Just f*cking miserable.

"Oh, shit."

That's what it's like.

Masturbation doesn't bring
much joy to guys.

Women seem
to like masturbating.

They put flower petals
on the pillow.

They're like,
"Ah, me," or whatever, you know.

The guys are like,
"Ah, shit."

[muttering]

"God damn it."

Sometimes you find ecstasy,
but it's followed

by the deepest self-hate
and depression you've ever felt.

It's an amazing drop
from way up here to--

It's like, "Oh, yeah--

"Oh--what the f*ck
is wrong with me?

"God damn it.

"I gotta get to work.

I don't have time
for this shit right now."

But then you get married;
now you've got to hide.

And you have to.

You have to hide.

Because when your wife catches
you masturbating,

that's sad
for the whole family.

That's not--

not a good moment
in a marriage.

She comes in the cellar:
"Oh, my God."

And then she always wants
to know shit about it.

She always asks me stuff.

My wife's like,
"Well, do you think about me

when you're doing that?"

What are you,
f*cking high?

Why would I do that?

Why--

I can think about anybody.

That's magical.

Why the f*ck would I--
I'm married to you.

Do women really think
their husbands are going,

"Oh, my wife.
Oh, yeah, that's f*cking hot.

"Oh, yeah.

"Picking her up at the airport
and getting yelled at:

"Oh, that's f*cking hot.

"Yeah.

"'Put it in the hamper,
not on top, you idiot.'

"Oh, I love
when she talks like that.

Yeah."

But you know,
whatever.

We're a family;
we have a kid.

That changes everything.

That's the whole thing.

The kid is everything.

Marriage is nothing.

Without a kid,
marriage is dating.

It doesn't mean shit.

And you don't realize it
till you have a kid.

Here's what happens:
when you get married,

you go, "Holy shit;
I can't leave now.

"I mean,
I wasn't thinking of leaving,

but now
I really can't leave."

Then you have a kid and you go,
"Holy shit; I could've left."

I totally could have left.

f*cking door was right there.

Now I can't go.

Got a kid now.

No, I love my daughter.

It's a lot of responsibility

that you never think about,
though.

Like, you've got
to name your kid.

That's a big deal
right there.

And you know
what's amazing to me?

You can name your kid
anything you want.

Isn't that incredible?

There are no laws.

There should be
a couple of laws.

None.

You can literally
name your kid anything.

You can name your kid a name
with no vowels if you want,

like Pnsndltn.

Dpppppthfffffffff

ffffffffffff.

Just 40 Fs:
that's his name.

"Ffffffffffffffffffff
ffffffffffffffffffff,

go clean your room."

[laughs]

Some people name their kids
a word, like Sunshine

or Battery or whatever.

I'd like to name my kid
a whole phrase, you know.

Something like
Ladies And Gentlemen.

That would be a cool name
for a kid.

"This is my son,
Ladies And Gentlemen."

Then when he gets out of hand,
I get to go,

"Ladies And Gentlemen, please!"

But you've got to be careful
what you name your kid.

You do have to be careful,
because what happens is,

other kids in school
are going to make fun of them.

They're going to make fun
of their name.

And you don't have to give them
a weird name,

because they can do it
with any name.

Kids are geniuses at that.

Any name--they take it;
they go Louis Screwy,

Joey Blowy,

Mike Your Mother's a d*ke,
whatever.

They find a way,
these kids.

Any name--
Like, what's your name?

Eric--You f*cking assh*le.

See? Just like that.

Lightning speed
these kids got.

What's your name?

Joe--Eat a Bag of Shit,
Cuntface.

You see? Just like that.

He got that all through school
and cried like a p*ssy.

It's not going to happen
to my little girl.

My daughter is really
something else, man.

She's--She runs the house.

She runs the whole house.

She decides everything.

Like, we were playing
hide-and-seek the other day.

We play hide-and-seek,
and we play by her rules

that she invented.

And do you know why?

Because she sucks
at hide-and-seek.

And so she covers it
with this f*cking ruse

to level the playing fields.

And I gotta f*cking pretend
it's all--

that she's great.

No, it's bullshit.

Like, we're playing--

No, f*cking--

I know she's a kid,
but f*cking listen.

When it's my turn to hide,
she tells me where to hide.

She tells me where.

She goes, "Hide in the closet,
Papa."

But you're going
to know where I--

"Hide in the closet!"

All right--f*ck--
I'll hide I the closet.

Good, fine.

Now I'm standing in the closet
like an assh*le.

She comes in.
"I found you."

She's, like, shitty about it,
like, "I found you."

And I'm like, "Wow.

"How did you figure out where
you told me to f*cking hide?"

And then when she hides--
this is her hiding.

She goes over to a wall
and does this.

She goes--

That's it.

There's nothing here.

What the f*ck is this?

Like this is some
ninja invisibility crouch.

And I've got to act
like an idiot.

I can't just walk in and go,
"Yeah, you're there."

'Cause she'll cry
and shit her pants, right?

So I've got to walk around
like an assh*le:

"Where is she?

"I have no idea.

Where could she be?"

I'm making eye contact.

"I don't see her."

It's amazing to me.

The other day,
we're playing--

This is how things have gotten
in my house, okay?

Here's a very good example
of where it's gone.

We're playing a version
of hide-and-seek

where my wife and I have
to decide together

where to look,
because she likes that.

She's like, "Mama,
you tell Papa where to look."

Okay, fine.

So she's over there,
hiding like this,

just in plain sight,
and my wife and I are--

My wife's like, "Why don't you
look under the bed?"

I'm like, "Okay.

She's not there."

And then she says, "Why don't
you look in the linen closet?"

Okay; so I open the closet.

She goes,
"That's not the linen closet.

We don't put that
in there anymore."

All right, f*cking--
Jesus, all right.

So I look in anoth--

Why would she be in that closet
that has shelves?

She can't stand in a shelf.

"Well, maybe she's crawled
in a sh--"

Now we're having a fight
about where to look

for this f*cking kid
who's standing right there.

She totally runs the house.

I remember Halloween
last year--

A couple of days
before Halloween,

my wife comes up to me,
and she's like,

[whispering]
"We have to get you
a cat costume."

No, no, we don't,
actually.

"No, we do, because she thinks
you're going to be a cat."

It's like she's got a--

she's a guy with a g*n
in the other room.

That's what it's like.

She's like, "Jess thinks you're
going to be a cat.

"I don't know how
she got it in her head,

but she's expecting you
to be a cat on Halloween."

I just go, "Well, tell her
to go f*ck herself,

because I'm not doing it."

I'm not afraid of her.

She's two;
I'll f*cking fight her.

I could take her.

I could beat the shit out
of thousands of two-year-olds.

All day--
just walk around.

They would never even
g*ng up on me.

They suck.

I'm not afraid of her.

So my wife decided that she
wanted to get pregnant again.

She decided it.

And she--
this was back in August.

She told me, "You need
to be in town next week."

Why?

"Because I'm get--
you know, I'm ovulating, so--"

Like, not,
"Do you want another kid?"

Just, "Be in town;"
that's how she handles it.

I'm like, "I'm not going to--
I don't want another kid,

so f*ck it."

And she's like,
"All right."

Next week,
she starts blowing me, right?

Now, she hasn't blown me in--

Jesus, I don't know
if I've ever been blown.

That's how long it is.

She's blowing me
on the day she's ovulating.

I'm a f*cking idiot.

I'm like,
"Yeah, you love it."

Like, I think
she digs me now.

f*cking stupid.

So she's having another baby.

Any day now, she's due.

It's true.

She's f*cking--

f*cking--the whole thing.

And I'm like--

[muttering]

"Okay.

No, no, it's great."

[laughs]
f*ck it.

f*ck it.

That's really the attitude
that keeps a family together.

It's not "we love each other;"
it's "f*ck it, man.

"f*ck it.

f*ck it."

Another kid--
f*ck it.

Why not?
Let them all in.

Good.

f*ck it.

But the problem is,
we have no f*cking money.

I don't know where she thinks
the money's coming from.

We're so broke.

I'm so sick of being broke.

I'm broke all--I'm just always--
just keep digging this hole.

And most people are broke too;
that's the thing.

This country's just--
everybody's broke.

That's why I don't--
Look, I don't like George Bush,

but I didn't like Kerry either,
because they're

f*cking both rich,
and they don't get it.

They don't know
what it's like to be poor.

Like, poor people know
what it's like to be rich.

They know exactly
what it's like,

because they fantasize
about it constantly.

Every poor person has their
whole rich life all planned out.

Every detail.

"I'm gonna have a house
made of chocolate.

"People are going to blow me
as I walk in each room.

"They're gonna be waiting.

"I'm going to wipe my ass
with live rabbits

and throw them
out the window."

Got it all worked out.

But rich people don't fantasize
about being poor.

Why the f*ck
would they do that?

"I'll have to take the bus
everywhere--yeah!"

I've always been poor,
my whole life.

I've f*cking
never had any money.

And I--I don't care;
I don't give a shit.

But there's a lot of people
that are poor now.

Like, I was driving
through upstate New York,

and there's people up there,
man,

their lives are just shitty.

Like, you ever drive through
a whole town,

and you're like, "What, did a
shit b*mb go off in this place?

What happened?"

Everybody's life sucks
in the whole town.

And you can tell,
because they're just standing

in front of their houses like--

They're just bleak.

And a lot of people call
those people white trash.

And--

I love that expression,
"white trash,"

because it's the only racial
expression that you can use

and nobody gets offended.

Nobody gives a shit.

When you say "white trash,"
nobody goes,

"Hey, don't talk like
that about them.

That's not nice."

Nobody defends white trash.

You could be talking to the most
liberal hippie in the world.

You go, "Hey, I saw this guy;
he was white trash."

He'll go, "Ha-ha!
f*ck that guy.

White-trash loser."

No, I don't know;
I just wanna be a good dad,

raise my daughter.

It's a complicated country.

People get angry,
you know.

And everybody hates
gay people now.

I never understood anger
towards gay people,

because a person being gay
doesn't affect your life,

so it's weird to me
that people just like--

They're in their homes going,

"Oh, people are gay.

Damn it."

What do you care?

I can understand hating
gay people if, say, like,

you're mowing your lawn,
and two guys

are blowing each other
right on the grass.

"Oh, I got to cut around
you faggots every Sunday.

I'm sick of this shit."

Or, say you're eating your
breakfast in the morning,

and you're about to put your
spoon in the cereal bowl,

and two guys touch dicks
right in front of you.

"Hey, come on!

"I gotta get to work.

"I don't have time to dodge
your dicks with my spoon.

f*cking h*m*--
get out of my kitchen."

I hope I'm a better parent
than my parents were.

My parents
were not good parents.

My parents--
here's a typical example.

This is a true story,
I swear to God.

My parents sent me to summer
camp when I was in third grade.

It's a good idea, right?

But they didn't
look into the camps.

They just chose one
out of the phone book, randomly.

And I swear to God,
this happened.

I get there; it's a camp
for all Ret*rded kids.

I swear to God.

I went to camp
for Ret*rded kids.

I swear to God.

I'll never forget,
the moment I arrived,

I looked around, and I realized,
"Holy shit...

"I'm Ret*rded.

"I didn't think I was,
but I must be.

"How am I
the only kid who's not?

"This is how
they chose to tell me?

This is it?"

"Just send him to the camp.

"f*ck it;
he'll figure it out.

He's Ret*rded;
he's not stupid."

I loved it there;
it was great.

Everybody's nice,
every game is a tie,

just gold medals
for everybody.

It was awesome.

Here's the thing:

I never, never, never, never
judge other parents now.

I never do.

I used to, but I never do.

Like, you know when you see
a mother in McDonald's

or some place
or in a toy store,

and she's just melting down
on her kid?

She's like, "Shut up.
I hate you.

You're ugly."

And people are standing around
going, "Oh, my goodness.

She's a horrible mother."

Well, guess what?

Those people aren't
f*cking parents.

They don't have kids.

'Cause any parents who are
in that store are thinking,

"What did that shitty kid do
to that poor woman?

"That poor woman.

I wish I could help."

'Cause you don't know, man;
you don't know.

Or like, when you see a parent
that seems to be negligent.

Like, you see a parent
in McDonald's

with the kid,
and the parent's like,

"I can't take
this shit anymore."

Just, like, collapsed.

And all the shopping bags
are just strewn everywhere.

And the kid's happy.

The kid's eating french fries.

And the kid asks
a question like,

"Mama,
why is the sky blue?"

And she's like, "Just shut up
and eat your french fries."

And you think,
"What a terrible mother.

"Why doesn't she answer
her child?

"When I have a child, I will
answer all of their questions

and open their minds
to the wonders of the world."

Well guess what:

you don't know what the f*ck
you're talking about.

You can't answer
a kid's question.

They don't accept any answer.

A kid never goes,
"Oh, thanks; I get it."

They f*cking never say that.

They just keep coming,
more questions:

"Why? Why? Why?"

Till you don't even know
who the f*ck you are anymore

at the end
of the conversation.

It's an insane deconstruction.

It's ama--

This is my daughter
the other day; she's like,

"Papa,
why can't we go outside?"

Well, 'cause it's raining.

"Why?"

"Well, water's coming
out of the sky."

"Why?"

"Because it was in a cloud."

"Why?"

"Well, clouds form
when there's vapor."

"Why?"

I don't know.

I don't know.
I don't know any more things.

Those are all
the things I know.

"Why?"

'Cause I'm stupid,
okay?

I'm stupid.

"Why?"

Well, because I didn't pay
attention in school, okay?

I went to school,
but I didn't listen in class.

"Why?"

'Cause I was high
all the time.

I smoked too much pot.

"Why?"

'Cause my parents
gave me no guidance.

They didn't give a shit.

"Why?"

'Cause they f*cked
in a car and had me,

and they resented me
for taking their youth.

"Why?"

Because they had bad morals.

They just had no compass.

"Why?"
'Cause they had shitty parents.

It just keeps going
like that.

"Why?" 'Cause f*ck it;
we're alone in the universe.

Nobody gives a shit
about us.

I'm gonna stop here to be
polite to you for a second.

But this goes on for hours
and hours.

And it gets so weird
and abstract.

At the end, it's like,
"Why?"

Well, because some things are,
and some things are not.

"Why?"

Well, because things
that are not can't be.

"Why?"

Because then nothing
wouldn't be.

You can't have f*cking
"nothing isn't,

everything is."

"Why?"

'Cause if nothing wasn't,
there'd be f*cking

all kinds of shit
that we don't--

like, giant ants with top hats,
dancing around.

There's no room
for all that shit.

"Why?"
Oh, f*ck you!

Eat your french fries,
you little shit.

God damn it!

Thank you very much,
everybody.

Good night.
Thank you.