All language subtitles for Kelsey.Cook.Happy.Hour.2026.2160p.4K.WEB.x265.10bit.AAC5.1-[YTS.GG - YTS.BZ]

Ladies and gentlemen, Kelsey Cook.

You guys! Okay.

It's too much.

Oh God.

That was so nice. Oh!
What's up, Twin Cities?

Hi.

Oh my God. Thank you guys so much
for coming out tonight.

Uh, this is the first time I've ever shot
a special in the place I live.

So this is… This is amazing.

Thank you guys so much for being here.

Uh, I decided to do a big thing.

I chopped 13 inches of my hair off.

And, um, I've… Thank you.

I have learned
that when you have short hair,

you have to wear a full face of makeup.

Or else you look like a small French boy.

Every morning now when I wake up
and look in the mirror,

I'm like, "Oh, hello, Pierre."

Bonjour.

I was so delusional.

I saw a picture of Rihanna
with short hair.

I showed my hairdresser, and I was like,
"I want to look like Rihanna."

I wish she would have just said, "Hey."

"You won't."

"You're not a haircut away…

…from looking like
a pop star from Barbados."

"You're from Spokane."

"You're gonna look like
the Quaker Oats guy."

He's like, "Rihanna has neck tattoos."

"You wear a night guard."

"You're worlds apart."

Some people don't like my short hair,

and all of them are old men on Facebook.

Yeah. Love to let me know

that I've really bummed out
some dusty boners.

You're not thrilled with me.

I had a guy tell me to my face
he didn't like it.

He came up after a show and goes,

"Ah, shouldn't have cut your hair."

And he was bald!

I was so confused.

I was like, "Are you mad
because I got to fire my hair

and yours just quit?"

Come at me, Dale.

No.

I know Rihanna's an impossible goal
to reach in every way.

She's also a fashion icon.

I feel like my style
has only gotten worse with age.

I just turned 36.
May as well have turned 72.

Most of the clothes I wear

make me look like
I have birdseed in my pockets.

It's a lot of long shawls.

Because clothing stores aren't
for women in their thirties.

The stores now are either for Gen Z,

where you walk in
and they're selling micro skirts.

That's literally what they're called.
They're four inches long.

They cover nary an anus.

I can't buy clothes
that require a full Brazilian wax.

I'm trying to run to Home Depot
without my taint catching a breeze.

It's like…

It's crazy.

So it's either that
or it's just stores for Diane Keaton.

There's nothing in between.

And look, do I want to dress
like Diane Keaton in 30 years?

Hell, yeah.

But right now, I'm not ready to go
to brunch in a magician's cape.

It's… It's too soon.

You know where I have to buy
most of my clothes now? Amazon.

You guys buying clothes on Amazon?

Who knew that that would become
our new American Eagle?

We love it.

But it's never really like
a show-stopping look from Amazon.

Nobody's seen me
in something from there and been like…

…"Oh my God, where'd you get your dress?"

Uh, the same place I bought my printer.

And my cat's litter box.

Same package.

I don't think it's entirely my fault
that I have bad fashion.

Spokane is not a well-dressed city.

Okay, I don't know if you've been through.
It's the blind leading the blind.

It's a lot of camo,

a lot of women in shirts
that say, "It's wine o'clock somewhere."

People just go to the strip club there
and make it rain Kohl's Cash. You're like…

We got a little bit
of a Kohl's crowd, huh?

Listen, I love a Sonoma nightie.

Oh, please.

Bury me in Sonoma.

I did splurge recently
and buy one of the Oura Rings.

You guys seen the Oura Rings?

All right. It's like the new Apple Watch.
It tracks your sleep and your movement.

But sometimes it will try to guess
what activity you just did.

So I wore it
when I had sex with my boyfriend,

and I got a notification from it
on my phone that said,

"Hey, did you just do some light walking?"

I was like, "Fuck you!"

I am bringing the heat in there.

Put some respect on my name.

I would be devastated
if my boyfriend described sex with me

as a brisk jaunt.

What the hell?

But you can go in
and correct the app's guess.

So I, uh…
I just changed it to horseback riding.

I'm using my hips, it counts.

Because sex isn't even an option
on the app, which I think is dumb.

I live here in Minnesota. In the winter,
sex is the only exercise I get.

I'll be shivering
looking at my boyfriend like,

"Why are you outside of me right now?"
Fucking…

Let's do some light walking.

Let's warm it up.

You know what some of the exercise options
they do list are? Hula-Hoop.

I'm like, "That's just air sex."

It's like a neutered dog that still humps.

Stupid.

One of the other exercise options,
I swear to God, is musical instrument.

I'm like,
if somebody's ripping clarinet so hard

that it registers as a workout,
get that guy a Hula-Hoop,

'cause that's as close to real sex
as they're gonna get.

Whoo!

I'm just still bitter
about the light walking.

That's all that is.

And then I stopped, and I really thought
about what I do during sex.

And I was like,
I do mostly just lay there.

Light walking was actually
a pretty generous suggestion.

Kind of surprised it wasn't like,
"Did you just take a fitful nap?"

We can tell you're laying down,
but you're kind of squirrelly.

Maybe you ate too close to bedtime, huh?
Is that what?

You know how synchronized swimmers,

they're on their back,
but their legs are like…

Yeah, that's the sort of stellar energy
I'm bringing… …to the event.

Some women really are doing
the most in bed.

I mentioned on my last special

that there's this porn star
named Adriana Chechik

who went to the dentist
and had him file down her back molars

so that she could make room
for bigger things.

A god amongst mere mortals.

My boyfriend's lucky
if I shave above the knee.

She is the GOAT, okay?

When I heard that,

I assumed that was happening exclusively
in the porn community,

but I told that joke about her in Omaha,
and a woman came up to me after and goes,

"Oh my God,
it's so funny you told that joke."

"I'm a dental hygienist,

and I just had one of my coworkers do
the same thing to me."

Yeah.

She just… She took the sharp points off
so I don't poke my man.

You know what I mean.

I was like, "No."

"No, I don't know what you mean.
I can't relate to you on this."

I don't want this
to become the new standard for women.

I'm like, "Look, I want to do
as good a job down there as the next lady,

but I also want to be able
to chew a steak."

We've got these women walking around
with flat teeth,

like a brontosaurus.

I'm just eating leaves and dick.

I mean, that is an unsustainable diet.

We gotta get you some jerky or something.

I went on stage in Omaha the next night
and was like, "I need some of you to know

that your dental hygienist is
into some freaky-ass shit."

Oh my God.

If I knew my dental hygienist was
that committed to giving head,

I'd be like, "Hey, you know what?"

"Today, how about we take some time
and clean out your mouth?"

A little people helping people here.

Let's find a pressure washer.

Get in there.

So my boyfriend's name is Chad.

Uh.

I know some of you know him.

Uh, he's also a comic.

We've been together for a few years,
and you could not find

two more different people
on the planet than me and him.

He has the worst road rage
of anybody I've ever met.

Make some noise
if you're in a relationship

with somebody with road rage.

Did you notice how
there was a moment of hesitation?

'Cause they're like,

"He's sitting right next to me,
and he's so fucking scary."

"I don't wanna… upset him."

I appreciate your bravery.

The reason I have to even ask
a question like that

is because if I ask
who here has road rage,

it's completely silent
because those people are like,

"I don't have road rage.
I'm just not a fucking idiot."

Ah.

There you are.

You goddamn psychos.

I know you'd show yourselves.

Chad wants to get where he's going
as fast as humanly possible,

regardless of if there's any urgency
to what we're doing.

We could be going to Whole Foods,

and he drives like he's been stabbed
and is bleeding out.

I'm like, "We're buying potato salad.
Why are we Tokyo drifting?"

This is too much.

And he has zero tolerance
for people driving in a way

that he doesn't think
are the perfect rules of the road.

We'll be on the freeway,

and if he sees somebody doing
something he doesn't like,

he will pull up next to them
and give them a thumbs down.

I'm like, "You're gonna get shot."

Because this is so much worse than this.

We've all seen this a million times.
Everybody's immune to this.

But you hit somebody with this,

people see their father.

This says, "I'm not mad.
I'm just disappointed."

It's a way scarier button to push.

And I love Chad so much,

but God, he was so hard to get a read on
early on in our relationship.

One of our first dates,
we went mini golfing,

and for an hour, he didn't crack a smile.

I finally was like, "I'm having fun."

"Are you having fun?"

And he was like, "Yeah."

I was like,
"Well, tell your fucking face."

He finally told me months later,
he was like,

"You know, I just had my guard up
'cause I didn't want to get hurt."

And I was like,
"That's what was going on?"

"I thought you wanted
to wear my skin as a suit."

I was, like,
sharing my location with my friends.

Thought I was about to get Dextered.

He's just a very guarded person.
He, like, physically rejects compliments.

He cannot accept words of affirmation.
We've been together for quite a while now.

The other day I was like,
"God, you're so hot."

He goes, "Do you think
you have Stockholm syndrome?"

I'm like,
"This is not a hostage situation."

"Let my love in."

He's just a very skeptical human,
and I'm very gullible.

I like a lot of woo-woo things,
like feng shui and vision boards.

I did tell myself, "Hey, no crystals."

We got to draw a line somewhere.

We can't drift into that abyss
of witchcraft and wizardry, okay?

But this girl came up to me after a show
with a gift bag,

and it was a bunch of crystals,
and I was like, "Ha."

"Um." I was like, "This is so sweet,

but I'm kind of scared
to have this spooky shit in my house."

I swear to God, she goes,
"No, they're great."

"Just make sure when it's a full moon,

you put them on your windowsill
so the moonlight can cleanse them,

or else it might bring dark energy
into your home."

I was like, "What the fuck, man?"

"What are we doing here?"

I feel like crystals are
the physical representation

of a chain email.

You open your inbox, and it's like,
"If you don't forward this to 50 people,

your family dies."

The sane part of your brain
is always like, "This is nonsense."

Then you walk away from your computer,
and the crazy part of your brain is like,

"We do really love Nana."
And you're like, "Well, goddamn it."

I don't know what to do with the crystals.
I'm afraid if I throw them away now,

I'll get hit by a bus or something.

I don't know.
I feel like I'm trapped in Jumanji.

And Chad was rolling his eyes
so hard at me

for even kind of believing in them,

which I think is crazy
because he is a massive football fan.

And I think men's sport superstitions
are the crystal meth of crystals.

Yeah.

Oh my God. Especially in this town.

And Chad's is even more ramped up
because he likes to bet on football,

which I think is really cool for somebody
who's prone to outbursts of anger.

Yeah. Let's get money involved.

So last fall,
the Vikings were playing the Bears.

Chad had bet on the Vikings to win
by more than four points.

There was a minute and a half
left of the game.

The Vikings were up by 11.

I don't know enough about football

to know that a minute and a half
is still, like, a long time.

So I just see the time and the score.
And I go, "Hey, congrats."

Oh, every man here is like, "You bitch."

So I'm like, "Congrats."
And Chad goes, "What are you doing?"

"Why would you say that?"

And I just have love in my heart.

I'm like, "Look, you're doing so good.
It's almost done."

"Congrats."

And Chad goes, "Shut the fuck up."

"Stop talking."

I am not kidding you.

In the next minute and a half,
the Bears scored 11 points.

The game went into overtime.

The Vikings still ended up winning

but not by more than four points anymore.

Chad leaps off the couch and is like,
"I can't believe you lost me my bet."

I was like, "Whoa."

"You can't possibly believe that
me saying congrats on our couch at home

affected the outcome of this game."

And he goes, "Well, we'll never know."

I was like,

"I can't believe you give me any shit
for believing in crystals,

because if there was a crystal that could
send the Vikings to the Super Bowl,

you would carry it in your asshole."

I would be following him
around the house like,

"Hey, full moon, pants down,
ass up, let's go."

"How bad do you want it?"

Okay. Downward dog.

I have come to really like football,

but it's such a funny dichotomy to me
in that sport.

It's one of the most macho,
masculine sports there is.

But you also know
that at some point in the week,

they have to go up to each other
in the locker room and be like,

"Hey, man, do you want to learn
a secret touchdown dance with me?"

'Cause when we see them do that on Sunday,
that took a lot of choreography, you know?

That didn't just happen in the moment.

So we turn the game on,

and we see them running into dudes
and smashing them into the ground.

Then they get into the end zone,
and they're like…

And you dudes are at home
watching like, "Fuck, yeah!"

I'm like, "They just played patty-cake."

This is literally the silliest shit
I've ever seen in my life.

So I got to witness
something pretty crazy recently.

I got to witness
my first drunk flight attendant.

Ooh!

Yeah, I didn't even know
they made them like that.

And if this guy wasn't drunk,

he was for sure quitting
at the end of that flight.

Living like he had nothing to lose.

I knew something was gonna be
interesting about him right away.

When you picture a flight attendant,
you picture, like, a polished young woman.

I want you guys to picture Chris Farley.

The big shaggy dog,
look like he just woke up.

And anytime an older woman would get
on board, like eighties, nineties,

he'd go,
"Welcome to the pimp plane, ladies."

They're all like, "What?"

Horrified.

And at this point,
you're probably thinking Spirit Airlines.

Perhaps Southwest.

No, this was Delta,

which is usually such a businessy vibe,
which made this even funnier to me.

We get on board, he gets on the intercom
to do the preflight announcement.

He gets halfway through it
and just goes, "Uh."

"I don't remember what else
I was supposed to tell you guys."

"Just go sit down."

We're like, "Do you even work here?"

The plane takes off,

he comes down the aisle,
he gets to our area and goes,

"All right, just so you guys know,
my policy for this flight is

as fast as you drink them
is as fast as I pour them."

I was like, "Well, everybody's about
to be in a blackout."

And sure enough,
anytime somebody ordered a cocktail,

he would hand them a full bottle
of alcohol with the cocktail.

It was like drunk trick-or-treating.
"Here. Here."

I had one of those giant
Nalgene water bottles with me.

He goes, "You want me
to fill that with something?"

I was like,
"It's 6 a.m., my guy. I'm okay."

Within 45 minutes,
everybody around me is shit-faced, okay?

Including the woman sitting next to me
who was a little older.

She turns to me and goes,

"I'm on my way to my son's wedding,
and I'm supposed to give a speech."

I was like, "Oh, shit."

The ripple effect of this flight attendant
is catastrophic.

I mean, we are damaging
families across America today.

So we were all kind of giggling about him.
And then I got up to use the bathroom.

And little something about me,

sometimes I poop on planes.

I hope we can all still be friends.

Because some people feel
very strongly about this.

They think it's a really rude thing to do.
I'm always like, "Hey, you know what?"

I promise you it's not ruder
than me shitting my pants.

Namaste.

Chad is part of that camp.

He's like, "Yeah, I've never done that.
It just doesn't seem great in there."

I'm like, "Yeah, man,
I don't wanna poop on the plane."

"I haven't been saving up for it."

I didn't wake up that morning like,
"Oh, I hope I get to shit

in half a porta-potty in the sky today."

Please, it's like…

No, sometimes it's just how
the timing lines up.

And frankly, I don't understand
how everybody isn't pooping on the plane.

We're all 30,000 feet in the air.

It is pressure-cooking our bowels.

Have you ever
had a bottle of water on a flight,

and halfway through the flight, it's like…

That's my asshole.

How is this not everybody's asshole?

We're all eating Panda Express
then hopping on board 30 minutes later.

Tell me your secrets.

So I went in there to do my business.

And if you've ever pooped on a plane,
you know it's never your best work.

It's never like
a quick little one, two, buckle my shoe.

No.

It's always like
a nine, ten, I can't have Chipotle again.

You're just sweating bullets.

You know a line is forming outside.

Every time it happens, I'm like, "This is
not what the Wright brothers wanted."

So let's just say I was in there
for a minute. All right.

And I walked out and looked down,

and that flight attendant
has been sitting in his seat

with the back
against the bathroom the entire time.

And he and I make eye contact,

and I kind of give him a look like,
"Bitch, be cool."

And I start to walk away.

And all of a sudden,
I hear him shout so loudly,

"Ugh."

I froze and turned around.

He is standing at the front of the plane,
staring at me, going…

I thought I was having a night terror.

I could not believe
this was actually happening.

I wanted to go into the cockpit,
up to the pilot, like,

"Hey, can you guys crash the plane
in a way that

just kills one person if possible?"

Need this guy out of my life immediately.

And of course I said nothing.

I didn't stand up for myself at all.
I have no backbone.

Chad would never let
something like that happen to himself.

He is the most confrontational person
I have ever met in my life.

He and I were
on a plane together last year,

and somebody in our section
would not stop farting.

I'm talking 30 straight minutes
of ripping ass.

Medically, it was shocking.

Chad turns to me
and is like, "Is that you?"

Which, listen, 99% of the time,
the answer is yes.

I mean, I'm not really blaming him
for asking me,

but I was like, "No, I swear to God,
it's not me this time."

Thank God that other flight attendant
wasn't also on this flight.

He'd be like, "I can still smell you
from six months ago, so…"

"Can't taste food.
I don't know what's going on, but okay."

Another ten minutes go by,
this person does not stop farting.

Chad takes his headphones off,
and I swear to Christ,

shouts to our entire area,

"Hey, you stink."

And then he followed it with,
"Go to the bathroom and take care of it."

I wanted to flush myself
out of the airplane toilet.

I was so mortified
because everybody's facing forward.

So, nobody thinks
that he's talking to them.

They all think he's talking to me.

Like I'm just some filthy little piglet

that he has to be like,
"Go take care of that."

"Wipe better." Mm, great, thanks.

I'm just like, "What was your plan here?"

Even if we were all sitting in a circle
facing one another,

who do you think after being screamed at
is gonna be like,

"Oh shit, sorry, man. That's my bad.
Okay, yeah. All right, excuse me."

"Oh, excuse me.
Yep, sorry. Oh, all right."

"I'm just shitting my pants in 3B,
didn't think anybody'd know."

No.

If anything, everybody's now
white-knuckle gripping their seats

'cause they know they're on the plane
with a murderer.

It would've been so great
if when we finally landed,

Chad would've turned to me and been like,
"It was actually me the whole time."

"It's the classic who smelt it, dealt it."

"Just committed to the bit."

I know it wasn't him
because he has no digestive issues,

which means he has no empathy
for those that do.

He could eat a cigarette,

and his butthole would be like,
"Nah, it's a green bean, pass it."

The security guard at his asshole
is like a substitute teacher.

He's like, "I'm not getting paid enough.
You just… you just do what you gotta do."

He and I, we actually, uh, both just hit
one year of sobriety.

And, uh… Oh, thank you.

Thanks.

I've, uh… I've learned
that when you tell people you got sober,

it sounds like
you have a drinking problem.

And if you go, "Oh,
but I don't have a drinking problem,"

it sounds like you for sure have
a massive drinking problem.

Like, "No, I'm just taking a break
'cause my lawyer said I should."

I'm very lucky.
I don't have an addictive personality.

There is some alcoholism in my family.

Like, my grandma in Idaho
used to go to saloons

with her gun, get drunk,
and shoot the lights out.

So relatively speaking, I'm doing great.

I'm really fine.

I quit drinking for a really mild reason.
I couldn't handle the hangovers anymore.

My God, I feel like you hit your thirties,
and hangovers get so dark so fast.

It wasn't just the physical part.
It was the mental part too.

Like, do you guys ever get bad anxiety
the morning after drinking?

Oh my God,
it's like an actual medical term now.

It's called "hangxiety."
It's fucking crazy.

I never had hangxiety in my twenties.

I would wake up after, like, blacking out,
and my first thought would be,

"Oh God, I hope I can make it
to McDonald's in time

for them to still be serving breakfast."

It was my number one concern in life.

In my thirties, when I wake up
after a night of drinking,

my first thought now is, "Oh God,

do I wanna be buried or cremated?"

"Gotta get my affairs in order."

I don't understand how, like,
old, old people are still drinking hard.

You know they're not hydrating, right?

I feel like my grandma's like,

"I haven't had water
since I was a little girl."

Okay.

They're like old cars, you know?

They're built different.

They run on different gas.

We need water, and they're like,
"Does anybody have Kahlúa?"

Like, "We're at a baptism. Can you
kind of fucking chill out a little bit?"

"Maybe grab a Sprite, sit down."

My grandpa made me a gin and tonic once,
and I almost exploded.

I didn't watch him make it,
but based on the taste,

I think he poured gin into a glass,
dipped his fingers in tonic water

and went…

"Happy birthday."

"Oh, I'm 12, okay."

Kind of hoping for a puka shell necklace
or something, but that's fine.

I also don't know how people drink hard,
wake up hungover

and have young kids they have
to take care of the next morning.

I know that's some of you
for sure tomorrow.

Yeah, I know.

Tomorrow's going to be an iPad day.

Yeah. You're gonna want
to charge that puppy up tonight.

You need a lot of PAW Patrol tomorrow.

I don't have kids.

The closest I can relate is
I have nieces who are two and four.

I love them so much.

They do also act like they have
been fed exclusively crack cocaine.

They are feral children.

The two-year-old
was having a tantrum the other day,

and my sister-in-law walked her by me.

The two-year-old reached out, bit my neck.

I had a drive-by bite.

What has she been sniffing? Bath salts?

We've got a tiny Mike Tyson in the house.

And look, I know
that my brother and sister-in-law

could not love them more than they do,

but I'm sure there are also days
where they look at each other like,

"What if we just left the front door open
and… see what happens? Yeah."

"Maybe a coyote and an owl
will raise them."

Some sort of Jungle Book situation,
you know.

I'm not gonna have kids,
and I'm totally okay with that.

Chad has older kids,
and that's kind of what's worked for us.

But I'm at the age of being a mom,

so TikTok sends me
lots of different mom videos.

I'll open the app,
and it'll be a woman like,

"Hey, I'm here to let you know,
if you're on the fence about having kids,

so was I, and this child
is the light of my life, okay?"

"This is a love I've never known before,

so if you're sitting there
and you're not sure,

I'm here to tell you, do it, sister."

And then I scroll up,

and the next video
is a woman with pepperoni in her hair.

There's blood on her shirt
from where her nipples used to be.

Maybe that's what's in her hair.
I don't know. I don't know her personally.

And she's clearly, like, in a closet,

hiding from her child with her phone,
like Blair Witch Project.

And a direct quote from this video was,

"When I was growing up,
my biggest dream in life was to be a mom,

and I'm here to tell you, dream bigger."

And I was like, "Ooh, say less."

Yeah. No, thanks.

It just… God, having kids
seems so hard to me.

It seems so hard to me that I'm shocked
the amount of people that have them

is what it is
compared to the amount that don't.

I feel like
that number should be flipped, right?

Don't you think it would just be
15 women that are like, "I'll do it."

"I volunteer as tribute."

Just a sturdy woman,
ready to push out 20 kids,

keep our population going.

Yeah, I mean, even Gen Z makes me feel
like I'm 1,000 years old.

I was talking about their fashion earlier.

I feel like female comics, especially,

we don't really know
what we're supposed to wear on stage,

and then our agents will call us
and be like, "Hey,

you gotta take new pictures for the poster
outside the club, so look nice."

So we put fake lashes on,

and we get a spray tan,
and we push our boobs up.

And most of the time, we walk out here
like the pigeon lady from Home Alone 2.

We're like, "Ah!"
You're like, "Hm. What the…"

"Who's this young lad?"

I rarely look
like the poster version of me up here.

It takes a lot of time and effort.
And it's kind of a problem

because I did a show
at a casino in Philadelphia last year,

and they made a billboard for it,
like side of the freeway billboard.

And they used one of those promo pictures
where it was like so much cleavage.

I don't know what I was thinking.

But this billboard just had
that picture and my name.

They didn't put like, "Comedian."

So it just looked like I was hosting
a motorboating convention.

It was the picture, my name,
and the gambling addiction hotline number.

It was so confusing.

I knew it was gonna be a problem
because when I walked out that night,

I could tell that truckers had just been
driving by the billboard for months.

It was only old men looking at me like…

"Where's the lady with the tits?"

"Fuckin' not here, Bruce."

"Got pigeons to feed, my guy.
Come on now."

So, uh, this was a little while back.

I ended up
getting diagnosed with depression.

-Anybody else here have depression?
-Whoo!

"Whoo"? I think some of you are medicated.

That was…

Some of you had a little pep in your step
up there with your "whoo." It was nice.

I don't know if you feel this way.

I was in such denial as an adult
that I had depression

because I didn't feel that way growing up.

But then last year,
I went to the Cheesecake Factory

in my pajamas…

Uh-oh.

Oopsies.

I went at like 4 p.m. on a Tuesday.

And I went up to the waitress.
I was like, "I'm here for happy hour."

And she saw what I was wearing.
She was like, "Are you?"

"This kind of feels
like the sad hour, but okay."

And I tried Wellbutrin for a week.
It made me feel so much worse.

It turns out that most people have to try,
like, five different antidepressants

before they find the right fit.

There are these forums online
of people like,

"Yeah, I tried this one,
and it made me feel schizophrenic."

"But then I tried this one,
and it made me feel like I was dying."

"But then I found Zoloft,
and now I'm, like, kind of okay."

I'm like, "What?"

I'm not in a mental state
where I can handle casual schizophrenia.

Kind of need it to work the first time.

I have a very public job.

One of the things I get the most
are intrusive thoughts.

-You guys get intrusive thoughts?
-Yeah.

Okay. One of the ones I get the most is,

if I'm walking down a busy street
and there's food on the ground,

like a cupcake
just smashed into the sidewalk,

bird shit around it,

my brain every time is like,
"You should eat that."

And I know I never will,
but I think my brain is just obsessed

with the amount of freedom
we have as adults,

because you sure can.

I wouldn't advise it.

I just think it's so funny to picture me

like walking down the street
and seeing the cupcake

and scooping it up and eating it

and just keeping on walking.

Because you know people walking
the other way would be like…

"Is that the escort from the billboard?"

I thought she'd be doing better.

I also get a lot of intrusive thoughts
around, like, sharp objects and knives.

Like, I can't chop vegetables
without my brain picturing like,

"Oh God, if this knife slips one degree,
we are losing a digit."

I mean, knives are crazy to me.

They're the only weapon
that also doubles as kitchenware.

Like, you don't shoot a zucchini in half.

I mean, you can, but you'll lose
your security deposit, you know?

And I haven't found a permanent solution
yet for the depression.

I am trying to stay away
from the crystals, but…

They're getting tempting.

Might become a full-blown crystal lady.

But I didn't get rid
of those ones the girl gave me.

I have two of them in my fanny pack
in the green room right now.

Like, I don't know,
maybe they do something.

And I know that
part of why I have depression

is because my mom has dementia,
which, of course, is just so heartbreaking

to watch your parent
go through something like that.

I visited her recently,
and I had the crystals with me,

so I was like, "Well, maybe she just wants
to, like, hold a pretty, shiny rock."

I held it out to her. I was like, "Hey,
I have crystals. Do you want to hold one?"

And her eyes got so big,
and she reached down and picked one up

and immediately put it in her mouth.
I was like, "Whoa!"

"Hey!"

That is how you make an Avenger,
but we can't.

Can't have you Hulking out in the home.

Not covered by Medicaid.

And this next part is dark,

but I don't want you guys to get
tight butthole on me. Okay?

Just know it helps me to talk about it.

And if you know somebody with dementia,
maybe it helps you too.

So my mom,
she's in the later stages of it,

which means
sometimes she still recognizes me,

but sometimes she doesn't.

And I can always tell
when she doesn't recognize me

because she talks to me
like a guy with commitment issues.

I'll be like, "All right, I love you."

And she'll go, "That's nice."

Which is such a fuckboy response.

Like, "I'm not really looking
for something serious, you know?"

Like, I gave my mom the ick.
She's like, "Oh, please."

Smothering me.

But if you think about it, it's actually,
like, the sweetest response she could say,

given what she thinks is going on.

Like, put yourself in that position.

I don't know if any of us
would be that nice. Right?

Like, you're in your room,
and a girl you do not know

walks in, sits on your bed,

hangs out with you for eight hours.

And at the end of it is like,
"All right, I love you."

We would all be like, "Help!
Like, what is this, The Shining?"

"I'm being haunted."

She had to go to the hospital
a couple of months ago.

She's out now, thankfully.

But when we were in there,
it was me and her and Chad.

I came out of the bathroom,
and she turns to Chad and goes,

"I like this girl."

And I was like, "Yeah, I'm your daughter."

And she goes, "I don't know about that."

I'm like,
"We are literally in the same hospital

that you gave birth to me in."

That's like going to a restaurant
and the chef coming out and going,

"That looks really good."

"Yeah, you made it."

"I don't know about that." What? Wha…

We're in the place it happens.

And obviously, it's really hard
when my mom doesn't recognize me.

I have to kind of try
and find silver linings in those moments.

And I think it is pretty cool to know that

with the bias removed from her
that I'm her daughter,

my mom was around me
and was still like, "I like this girl."

Because that's not always
how it is with family.

A lot of us are like, "Ugh, I love her,
but I don't like her."

And my mom's like,
"I don't know her, but I like her."

Sometimes my mom thinks I'm my brother.

That's when I'm like,
"Ooh, shouldn't have cut my hair."

Ah, the Pierre is Pierre-ing.

So last fall, Chad and I went to Europe.

Before we left,
I had five different friends of mine

calling me going,
"Oh my God, he's totally gonna propose."

You guys are going to Europe together.
There's no way he's not gonna propose.

So, of course,
it planted that seed in my head.

And then we're over there,
and anytime he stops to bend down

and tie his shoe, I'm like…

Like an idiot.

And the trip is going on and on.

And we get to our last city.
We're in Paris.

And one of my friends texts me
and is like,

"If he doesn't propose to you today,
I am jumping into the Hudson River."

I was so annoyed at this point,
I wrote back,

"Well, pack a towel, motherfucker."

Quit ruining my vacation.

I should've known
it wasn't gonna happen over there.

'Cause Chad asked me a while ago,
"Hey, whenever I propose,

is there something
you would love if I did?"

I was like, "I think it'd be kind of nice

if you could, you know,
have one of our friends

take a picture, you know,
like have them hiding in a bush."

You know what's not in Paris
hiding in a fucking bush?

One of our friends.

What, is he gonna propose in an elevator
and get the security camera footage?

Like, it's not happening.

We come home,
and I get coffee with my friends,

and they're all like, "Did he do it?"

"Did he propose?"

And I'm like, "Bitch, you'll know."

The tradition isn't
that I wear a nipple ring.

So fucking take a glance,
and ask or don't ask.

I got home,

and I don't know if Chad could tell
I was in kind of a weird mood,

'cause he goes, "Hey.
I don't know if this is a touchy subject,

but did any of your friends ask
if I proposed?"

And I was like, "Yeah."

"Did any of your friends ask
if you proposed?"

He was like, "Yeah."
And I was like, "Wow."

I bet those conversations went
so differently.

And I was mad at my friends for a while

because I really felt like they set me up
for disappointment.

And then I was like, "Oh."

"I bet this is how Chad feels
when I say congrats

before the end of a Vikings game."

All right, Twin Cities.
Thank you guys so much.

You guys… Thank you.

You guys are… Oh my God.

You are so sweet.

Thank you so much
for coming out tonight, you guys.

Hi, you guys. Okay, so before I go,

we have some stuff for sale
that we've been selling all tour.

And I just wanted to show you
one thing in particular.

We had signs made that say,
"Not mad, just disappointed."

And when we had these made,

I assumed you guys would want
to hold them up in traffic,

but I have been laughing so hard
at you guys

coming through the merch line
and telling me all of the other ways

that you're planning on using these.

I've had a lot of teachers buying these.

I've had a lot of parents buying these.

I had some parents buy this
and then leave a comment on my Instagram

that said, "We bought your sign,

and now our five-year-old holds it up
to us anytime we swear."

Like, well, that's amazing.

Um, I've had cops buy these

and say they're gonna hang it
in the back of their squad car.

So anytime they arrest somebody,
this is the first thing they see.

And my favorite one I've ever gotten,

I had a Southwest flight attendant
come up to me and go,

"I'm gonna hold this up
anytime somebody poops on my plane."

All right, you guys, get home safe.
Thank you so much. You were amazing.

Bye, you guys. Thank you.