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Sorry about that!

Sarah, you're on in five.

She's not even in hair and make up yet.

Just a minute! I'm indecent!

- Ready! - You...

You got something on...

You want some Visine or something?

Eww!

Now you look worse!

Go on out there and remind them why God invented the barf bag.

- Okay. - Go absolutely crazy

right now for Sarah Squirm!

Live and in the Flesh!

Ugh!

Shut up!

Fuck you!

I barely made it onstage tonight, you hear me?

I've been blowing my back out diarrhea-style

all fucking night.

Yeah, sorry I use my butthole! Where's yours?

In your garage, collecting dust?

Fuck you!

Yeah, I overuse my butthole, okay?

I have so many hemorrhoids, I don't walk, I waddle.

I have so many hemorrhoids, I can, like,

read my butthole like braille,

and it says, "Stop wiping like that."

There's so much shit coming out of my ass--

Okay, stop looking, my eyes are up here.

There's so much shit coming out--

There's so much shit coming out of my ass,

the doctors had to construct a second butthole

to redirect traffic.

Here's the thing, my piss

is worse than my shit!

You understand?

I'm so dehydrated,

my piss comes out thick and brown,

like I'm squeezing an old bottle of mustard into the bowl, like--

It hits the surface of the water with a thunk

and like coils at the bottom of the bowl.

Oh, you think that's disgusting?

Really? Have you heard of the Vietnam War?

Because that was pretty fucking disgusting!

And where were you?

You know what pisses me off?

When people say going "number one" and "number two."

It's like pissing and shitting isn't a binary,

it's a fucking spectrum. Are you kidding me?

My piss is so thick and my shit is so runny,

no matter what I'm doing in the bathroom, honey,

I'm going to number one-point-five. Hey!

What kind of comedy show did you think you were seeing tonight?

What did you think? "Yeah, my wife..."

"Yeah, my wife's a bitch.

Yeah, my wife's a bitch and my mother's a whore

and I'm too dumb to know the difference!"

Guys, focus up. Seriously.

Why'd you wear your glasses?

So you could see my prepubescent body better,

you pervert? You're sick.

Keep your head down the rest of the show. Seriously?

Nice shirt. Where'd you get that? The fuckin' store?

Gotcha, bitch. That's it!

It's over for every ho in the room.

Do you understand me? Who wants to get roasted right now?

Stand up. Stand up if you want it.

Stand up right now.

Stand up! Stand up! Don't be scared.

"Oh, I couldn't possibly stand up!"

Stand up. You. Both of you.

Spin around. Spin all the way around.

Where'd you learn to spin around like that?

The toilet, ya piece of shit? Sit down. It's over!

Some more ground rules for tonight:

If anyone has to go to the bathroom during the show,

put on a diaper and shit your diaper like a fucking grown-up.

You understand me? Come on, Brooklyn.

Y'all ever shit your diaper so hard, diarrhea explodes

up the top and you gotta wipe shit off your tits?

Y'all know what I'm talking about. Come on.

And you guys saw that, right?

I just put my hand into the audience,

as innocent as an Easter lamb,

as simple as a pine needle,

and they just shot their hand out and assaulted it?

Security.

Lotta poop talk tonight.

Get used to it.

Lotta poop talk tonight.

I have a sensitive stomach 'cause I'm, uh, I'm Jewish.

Where my Jews at?

Make some noise!

Where my J-J-J-Jews at?

Make some motherfucking... noise!

Where my Jews at? Make some noise!

Where my Jews at? Make some noise!

Lights on, round 'em up. Let's go!

Relax, I can say that. I'm a Jew.

I'm a cool Jew. I believe in a free Palestine.

Yeah, of course I do.

I'm Jewish and it's free. Hey!

Here's my impression of you guys looking for

a single decent joke out of me tonight.

Hello?

Are there any j-j-j-jokes out there?

Here's my impression of my gyno cracking me open

and getting a look inside.

Ho!

Whoa! It's huge!

Sarah, I didn't know they made poop in here. Wow!

Sarah, did you do renovations in here? Huh!

Looks like you knocked down the wall

between your pussy and your asshole. Wow.

You know, I threw a penny in here five minutes ago

and I still haven't heard a splash!

Guys, seriously, can we focus up?

We have a fucking comedy show to do tonight, okay?

Look at me dropping-- Look at me with two microphones.

What am I, a woman in tech? Awesome.

Who's skinnier, me or this mic stand?

Don't answer that. If you answer, you hate women.

Which you do!

I don't know if you knew this

but they actually painted the set

with the gack they scraped out of my underwear.

Oh, come on, fuck you.

You peel your underwear off at the end of a long, hard day

and it looks like a fresh autumn leaf?

You throw it to the ground,

it crunches underneath your foot like--

Seriously?

You peel your underwear off

and it's dry as a bone? No!

You haven't lived your life

unless when you peel your underwear off,

it looks like what? Roadkill. Exactly!

It should look like you peeled it off the grille of a truck

going 150 miles an hour in like rain, sleet, mudslides.

There should be like a flattened pigeon in it.

You know what I mean?

It should look like your pussy sneezed in it.

You understand me?

It should look like your uterine lining

shed a full oyster, like--

And just as salty. You know?

I'm gonna be giving you guys the best show

of my fucking life tonight. I'm gonna be working my--

Don't clap because you pity me.

I'm gonna be giving you the best fucking show

of my goddamn life tonight,

I'm gonna crawl back to my apartment,

this guy's going to be standing outside with a tin can like,

"Please, Sarah!

Can I have a crumb of p-p-p-pussy, please?"

I'm gonna be like, "Later."

I'm going to go into my apartment,

take the elevator all the way up

to the penthouse suite celebrity lifestyle

floor-one view of the dumpster,

and I'm gonna--

I'm gonna peel my little clown suit off.

I'm gonna peel my little underwear off.

And I'm going to get a good, like, cheese pull like--

Like I'm pulling a slice

of deep dish Chicago pizza out of the pie, like--

Cheese rope so long and thick

you could cut them with scissors, like--

Then I'm going to throw it to the ground

and it's going to be like dropping an everything bagel

cream cheese-side first, like...

"Hey! I was gonna eat that!"

So if anyone wants to buy my underwear after the show,

I'll be selling it at the merch table.

Do I hear $10,000?

Do I hear $20,000? $30,000?

Sold to the pervert growing an REI tent in his pants

right as we speak. Jesus!

We're in public! There's cameras, sir!

Can you imagine, by the way, an auctioneer

going down on you like--

Don't get any ideas, pervert, okay?

Going down on me sucks, okay?

It's like eating dog food.

You got to do it on all fours.

Stinks like shit.

There's bones in it.

In order to get my boyfriend to take his medication,

I have to put his balding pills under my clitoral hood.

A blue-haired bisexual in the back just went,

"Boyfriend?!

She's fucking straight?!

Nooo!"

"She's wearing the worst outfit I've ever seen,

she has the ugliest haircut I've ever seen,

but she's fucking straight? Nooo!

I want my money back!"

How much were tickets to the show? Be honest.

Be honest with me. Look at me in my eyes.

How much were tickets to the show?

$35?

And I'm on TV. Awesome. Great.

$35 and I'm on TV.

What am I, a handbag on QVC? Come on!

Peel my little underwear off.

Peel my little...

A guy in the back just starts spontaneously coming, like...

If you come like that, you're a liar.

You're a liar!

You downloaded that sound from the internet.

That's not your truest expression of pleasure.

He's hard. He's hard. What's your first and last name?

What's your first and last name?

Control-F Epstein's flight logs for his name.

What does it sound like when you guys come? Be honest.

Be honest.

Oh my God.

Can we do that again? Can we do that again?

Everybody look at him. Do it again.

Okay, so, it sounds like you're shitting out your own heart.

So it's medically inadvisable for you to come, so...

If you're an adult, what it should sound like

when you come is, obviously,

ten Italian guys fighting over a parking spot like--

"Va fangool! Your mother!"

What does it sound like when I come?

Wouldn't know. Um...

I've been banging this thing with a rock for years!

Guy in the back with a chainsaw is like,

"I can make you fucking come."

Relax. I can do it. If I try!

What does it sound like when I come?

It sounds like an old goat

trying on too-tight skinny jeans, like...

Oh my God, I look freaking amazing!

Why do they call it "achieve" orgasm?

It's not an achievement. You should be ashamed.

You're out here in the free world coming

after all your mother has done for you?

Are you serious?

I just invoked your mother

and you just sat there totally unfazed.

Seriously. I said "your mother"

and you looked at me like "la-la-la."

You come here right now.

Do I have your consent to physically assault you?

Stand up. Stand up. Do I have your consent?

I'm gonna fuckin' fuck you up violently.

I'm gonna-- I swear to fucking God, look at me.

Look at me right now in my eyes.

I swear to fucking God.

Do you mind if I stretch your shirt out?

I don't care. I swear to fucking God.

If you ever even think about disrespecting

my beautiful public-schoolteacher mother

in the way that you just disrespected

your mother's memory right fucking now.

If you even think about cutting her off in traffic,

I swear to fucking God, I'll literally take my hand,

push it so far through your face

that it comes out the other side of your skull

holding your fucking brain, I swear to fucking God.

Look at me in my eyes. In my mother's eyes.

I swear to fucking God.

If you so much as google my mother, Robin Sherman,

'cause you said, "I'm hot, maybe she's hot,"

I swear to fucking God,

I'll peel the skin off your face,

put it on a little stick and wave it like it's a flag

on the Fourth of fucking July.

If you, people watching at home,

the six guys jerking off to this,

if you-- Hope it's more!

I swear to fucking God,

if you even think about emailing my mother,

RobinSherman123@hotmail.com,

to tell her I did a good job at the show tonight,

I swear to fucking God,

I'll literally dress you up as Trump's ear,

put you behind his podium at one of his rallies,

and say, "Ready, aim, fire!"

I swear to fucking God if any of you--

I mean any of you! But do I ever call her?

No. So...

Yeah, that's right. I said Trump.

What are you gonna do? Frown at me about it?

Yeah, okay. Yeah. I said something political

for one fucking second and you guys just...

I said something fucking political for one second

and your buttholes just curled right up.

Like they were going to bed with a book.

I said something-- I can say whatever I want.

I knocked on a thousand doors

for Bernie Sanders in 2020.

Didn't work. Didn't work.

Imagine you're an undecided voter,

you open up the door and I'm there like, "Hi!"

Dressed like I'm ready for tummy time.

"Hi!"

You're an undecided voter who doesn't know

whether or not people should live their lives

with, like, dignity in this country,

you open up the door, I'm there looking like

Paula Poundstone fucked SpongeBob.

"Hi! Can I use your bathroom?"

I thought it would've been cool to have a Jewish president.

You kidding me? He would've been like...

"We can't go to war with Iran

'cause it's too expensive."

"We have to ban assault rifles

'cause they're too loud."

"We need Medicare for all

'cause my stomach hurts. Okay?"

And if you're not laughing at that, you hate Jews, so...

I think Medicare for all should include me

getting big, fat, fake tits for free!

You guys are cheering 'cause you know my tits are shit?

Wouldn't that be awesome if I had two big Billie Eilishes?

Like, "Boing, boing, boing."

When they're that big, it's not motor-boating,

it's cruise-shipping.

And I have shit for tits. My eyes are up here.

Don't look. They're so far apart

on either side of my torso,

I call them hammerhead titties.

I have to wear a corrective bra

'cause of my one lazy areola.

They're double D, double directional.

Like, I have-- my nipples are huger than my tit.

Have I lost you? My nipples are huger than my tit,

they meet in the center of my chest

and wrap around my back

like a Pangea nipple supercontinent.

You know what I mean? Like, feeling me up,

there's just-- it sucks.

There's like nothing there. It's like rock climbing

free solo-style,

like, no helmet, no rope.

You have to use the inside of your palm

and like a specific part of your knuckle

and like your leg for leverage.

And if you're crazy enough to do it,

National Geographic will make a documentary

about your bizarre psychology.

Feeling me up is like

looking around for a light switch in the dark like,

"Hello? Where is it?

I just stubbed my toe on your clit!"

I got a mammogram recently.

Recreational mammogram. Relax. And, um...

By the way, why have they not invented

a better way to do that? You know?

Why is that the technology?

It sucks your tit out of your chest

till you hear a pop like--

And then make you place your tit into

a freezing cold panini press.

It's like a Jigsaw trap for your fucking tit.

Like, "Wanna play a game with the titties?"

You know what I mean? It sucks.

I got the test results back for my mammogram

and the test results literally said

that my breasts were small

and incredibly dense.

And I said, "Doc, I know they're small,

but did you have to call 'em stupid?"

It's your fault for laughing at something like that.

You're better than that.

No, I got a recreational mammogram.

Because I'm a fucking crazy Jewish hypochondriac,

and I'm like a misery to live with.

Like, every day, like, my poi boyfriend--

Awesome. So I just said "poi boyfriend."

I just had a stroke onstage and nobody called an ambulance

'cause none of you are allies. Thanks.

Every day my poor boyfriend

comes home from a long hard day

at the unemployment factory.

"Honey, I'm home still!"

He comes home after clocking out

of the nine-to-five day having sex

with the giant green woman in Baldur's Gate.

If you're laughing at that, you're a virgin, and...

He comes home every single day to just find me

crumpled up on the couch like...

Core. Core.

Aren't you gonna a-a-ask me what's wrong?

What's wrong?

Nothing!

Aren't you gonna a-ask me what's wr-wr-wrong?

What's wrong?

Nothing!

I'm hiding!

A-A-Aren't you gonna push the issue further?

What's wrong?

Fine, I'll tell you

since you twisted my arm about it!

I have to go to the h-h-hospital.

Why?

Because I have a b-b-brain tumor.

Aww!

Because I misspoke earlier

and I said "poi boyfriend"

instead of "p-p-poor"

and now everyone's mad at me!

I have to go to the h-h-hospital.

Why?

Because I have to get my le-le-legs amputated.

Why?

Because I was shitting so hard

in the green room,

I sat on the t-t-toilet so long

my legs fell asleep.

I have to go to the m-m-mental hospital.

Why?

Because I saw your phone

and I saw you were texting a girl younger than me.

Who?

Me yesterday.

That's what we call a high-commitment,

low-payoff bit, so--

I'm parched. Can a big, strong man

help me open this water bottle?

Can a big strong man help me open this water bottle?

Can you open this bottle for me? I need a drink.

And you saw that, right? He tried to roofie me? Okay.

By the way, this is what therapy

three times a week looks like.

Not working!

Therapy is a fucking scam.

I just sit across the room from some fucking guy.

Yeah, my therapist is a guy!

A woman would fix this and then there would be no show, okay?

He writes down everything I say

like he's obsessed with me,

and at the end of every session he's like,

"Your feelings are valid."

I'm like, "No, they're not, I'm fucking crazy!"

Oh my God, I'm sorry, I just blacked out.

That was crazy. Sorry.

That was my impression of the guy at Panera

who invented the Bread Bowl.

"What if you could eat the bowl?

And what if there was a lemonade that can kill you!"

You guys are acting like you lost someone to the lemonade.

Are we cool?

I'm sweating like a fucking warthog up here. Jesus Christ.

Yeah, I know, warthogs don't sweat.

Found that out the hard way. Thank you.

I was doing a show in, not to brag,

Milwaukee, Wisconsin, ever heard of it?

And... I said onstage,

"I'm sweating like a fucking warthog,"

and some fucking farmer in the back stood up

and was like, "Yeah, warthogs don't sweat.

They actually roll around in the mud to keep cool."

I was like, fuck you, dude! Warthogs don't sweat?

Don't fucking mansplain that shit to me.

Warthogs don't sweat? You've never seen me walk by

a barnyard in six-inch heels. Like, "Hey, boys!"

"Want to join this petting zoo?"

I joined a fancy gym recently and it's so humiliating

sweating at the gym in front of all these fancy people.

Like, you peel your ass off the seat

and it's always this like unforgiving black pleather,

and you can just see a giant swamp ass and pussy puddle--

Sorry. Swussy puddle so big.

You ever try one of these things where you try to like

surreptitiously wipe down the machine

with the back of your shirt?

It's just a puddle so big, you go to get one of those

pathetic little hand towels to wipe down the machine,

there's already a janitor standing there

with a shop vac shaking his head like,

"Don't even try, bitch."

There's already a lifeguard standing in front of it going,

"No running! No running!"

James Cameron is building a submersible

to get to the bottom of it.

All of a sudden you hear "ding, ding, ding!"

'cause everyone in the gym just got a flood alert warning

on their phone.

And what is going on with this crazy gym athleisure?

What-- Ladies, where did we go so wrong?

Everybody showing up to the gym

in a little Alo bra.

A little bike short.

Like, I show up to the gym correct,

do you understand?

I show up like I'm ready to play.

I'm wearing a giant triple-XL t-shirt

that says "Rachel's Rockin' Safari 2003" on it

with wasabi stains on each armpit,

wearing a giant shirt, looking like a kid

who just threw up in the pool.

And all the girlies at the gym are wearing

tiny little bike shorts with, like, ruching on the crotch

and the crack?

Like, bitch, I have a camel-toe in this.

You know what I'm saying?

And it's not a camel-toe,

it's a fucking Shrek paw.

You know? It's like a Donkey Kong fist.

You know what I mean? It doesn't matter what I'm wearing,

my hole sucks my pants right up,

like the alien from Nope sucking Daniel Kaluuya into the sky, like--

You guys didn't realize you were seeing

an Aphex Twin show tonight?

Oh my God, was anyone getting like

crazy ASMR vibes from that?

Your nipples are knifing through your shirt right now.

Thank you for tuning into my gentle whispering

ASMR channel.

Today we're going to be listening to

the gentle pitter-patter...

of rain falling onto the surface

of the East River.

Oh, is that a body?

And today we're going to be listening to

the gentle pitter-patter

of me trying to plunge

my clogged hole after it sucked up all my underwear

and now all the underwear is clogged in there.

Who's so high that they're having

the worst night of their life right now?

Do you guys microdose? Anyone in here microdose?

Grow up. Get a job. Um...

Grow up, get a job, like me,

professional poop clown!

All my friends microdose, and, yeah, I have friends.

I'm not in a conservatorship like you guys think I am.

All my friends microdose. They're like,

"Yeah, I had a little bit of weed."

"Yeah, I had a little bit of weed,

ate a little bit of mushroom. Yeah, yeah."

"Had a little bit of weed, took a little bit of mushroom

and I went to work. Whatever."

"Had a little bit of weed, took a little bit of mushroom,

went to work, and my mood improved."

Of course your mood improved.

You're high on drugs, you stoned moron!

And you're my kid's pediatrician for God's sake!

Obviously I don't have kids. I like my life!

You're clapping 'cause I don't want the human race to continue?

Who is the highest person in the room? Show yourself now.

Who's the highest person in the room?

- Here! - Yeah.

The guy who bought like nine of my posters.

Highest person in the room, give him a microphone now.

- Hi, what's your name? - Raj.

- Raj? - Yeah.

Um, and, Raj, what are you high on?

Edible drink.

It's an edible drink?

It's a drink you can eat? It's a drink you can chew on?

You're telling me it's thick?

It's as thick as the discharge from my underwear?

Okay, Raj, so I'm gonna be your trip shaman.

I'm gonna guide you to new psychedelic levels

of understanding, but I need everyone in the room

to surround Raj with like an embryonic pool of light

and send energy to him by going,

"Raj..." Keep going.

- "Raj..." - Use your fingers. "Raj..."

Keep going. "Raj..." Keep going.

"Raj..." Keep going.

"Raj..."

Raj... Raj... Raj...

Everyone in the room

is staring at you

right now!

Raj!

You're acting really weird

and everyone in your life is mad at you!

Raj!

Even though you're covering your lap

with nine posters from my merch store,

I can tell your fly is down

and your thing is out!

Raj, I just got a text from the mayor.

He re-criminalized weed five minutes ago,

and everyone in this room is a cop!

Raj, no one asked you to volunteer,

you just shot your hand out of nowhere

and kept saying, "I'd love nothing more!"

Keep it going for Raj.

Okay, give me that microphone back. I'm done with you.

Oh my God, it's like soaking wet. Jesus.

I'm from here, I'm from New York.

Is anyone from New York originally?

Okay, is anyone from here and then moved away

for an extended period of time?

- Okay, uh, what's your name? - Matt.

You're Matt!

It's not just Matt, it's, "I'm fucking Matt, bitch.

What do you fucking want? Yeah, I'm Matt."

Okay, Matt, you're from New York. Where did you move to?

- To Chicago. - Chicago? Me too, girl!

Okay, Matt, so when you moved to Chicago

was like everyone in your life like...

What the fuck you doing, man?

You leaving New York fuckin' City, man?

You leaving New fuckin' York fuckin' City, man?

Come on! It's fuckin' New fuckin' York fuckin' City, man.

You leaving New York fuckin'-- New York City?

Come on, you know what I'm fucking talkin' about?

You know what I'm talkin' about. Pervert in the front.

He knows what I'm talkin' about. It's fuckin' New York.

You know what I'm fuckin' talking about. Come on.

You know what I'm fuckin' talkin' about.

You guys are like, "Is she glitching?

Do we have to pull her cartridge out and blow on it?"

"You know what I'm fuckin' talkin' about."

Everybody in the back who's too broke

to afford front row seats?

They know what I'm talkin' about.

I do this for 14 more minutes.

You know what I'm fuckin' talkin' about.

You know what I'm fuckin' talkin' about.

You know what I'm fuckin' talkin' about.

You know what I'm fuckin'-- New York, best pizza.

Best bagels.

Best water.

Best public transportation system.

Best garbage.

Best rats.

Best little tiny cockroaches running around.

Best big cockroaches running around.

Best rats riding on top of a cockroach

like it's a little fucking horse running around.

Best inequal distribution of wealth.

Best seat of all the world's financial evils.

Best general sense of crippling alienation.

Best trust-fund kids posturing as artists

and ruining historically Black neighborhoods

with artisan kombucha shops.

Best people with zero personality

supplanting their shitty personality

by co-opting a regional identity

by saying things like, "Come on, it's New York.

You know what I'm fuckin' talkin' about."

I did that joke in front of my Long Island dad

and he was like, "Eyy! I don't fuckin' sound like that!

You make me look like a fuckin' idiot up there!

I don't fuckin' sound like that! I'm not an idiot.

I'm not illiterate. I'm not an idiot.

I'm not illiterate. I've read a book, okay?

I've read the Keith Richards autobiography front to back,

cover to cover."

If you're laughing at that you're 40.

But New York dads are so macho.

Like, one day we were driving in the car.

He was driving. I can't! I'm a woman!

What if I get my period all over the road

and the car hydroplanes?

You laughed too hard at that.

So I was driving in the car with my dad

and the GPS was like, "Turn right here."

My dad's like, "Ayo! What that GPS fuckin' bitch

fuckin' say to me in front of my fuckin' daughter?

Talkin' like that to me in front of my fuckin' daughter?

You kiss your mother with that mouth?

Talkin' like that to me in front of my fuckin' daughter?"

And he held my car down in an alley and fucking punched it.

So yeah, my dad's hot.

You don't wanna fuck my dad? Really?

Imagine me, no hair. Good night!

Like I can't-- the dynamic between like a New York dad

and like a daughter, the dynamic is like fucking insane.

Like, he's so fucking macho.

He's so overprotective over me still to this day.

And even though I'm already 16 years old...

he's still overprotective with me.

The one nice thing I can get my dad

to say about my boyfriend, who I've been dating

for like a million fucking years is,

"He's a...

He's a...

He's a good guy, you know what I mean?

He's a good guy, you know what I mean?

He's a good guy. He's a good guy.

I mean, he's not fuckin' Jewish, but, uh...

He's a good guy, you know?

He's a good guy. He's a good guy.

I mean, he doesn't have any fuckin' money,

but, uh, he's a good guy. He's a good guy.

He's a good guy. I mean, he's shtuppin' daughter. Hey!

He's shtuppin' my fucking daughter?

He's shtuppin' my fucking daughter

who I held in my hands when she was this fucking little big.

My precious baby fuckin' daughter who I held in my hands

when she was this fucking tiny little big.

My fuckin' precious baby angel?

He's raw-doggin' my precious baby fuckin' angel?

My little fuckin' lamb with fleece as white as fuckin' snow?

And everywhere that sunlight went,

my lamb was sure to fuckin' go?

He's sticking it in my daughter, no bag, no condom,

and he's giving her fuckin' triple-digit orgasms

and he's giving her pleasure and he's making her happy?

He makes her fuckin' happy?!

He makes my precious baby fuckin' angel happy?

Well, then he's a good guy, you know what I mean?"

I'm parched. Can I have a sip of what anyone's drinking?

Does anyone have a drink? What is that?

- What is that? - Beer.

A beer? Can I have a sip?

And you just offered a drink to a minor! Gotcha, bitch!

Abolish police, but you're going to jail for grooming me.

You guys don't care that I'm on TV.

You don't, you don't care that I'm on TV. You don't.

"Oh, we care that you're on TV

for six seconds every 14 months, Sarah."

Being on TV sucks.

Remember when TV was blurry?

Would have been nice for me, okay?

I found out that I had a mustache

'cause I saw it on live TV. Hi!

I'm a hairy Jewish girl.

Every hair on my body is a fucking pube,

you understand me?

My arms look like Hagrid's legs.

Zoom in on this. Zoom in on this.

Like, if you saw this shit raw-- You wish. My eyes are up here.

If you saw this shit raw,

you thought it would teach you French

'cause my bush looks like Muzzy, you know what I mean?

Like, it's a cable-knit bush, you know what I'm saying?

Like, you know how some dudes shave their pubes

to make their dick look bigger?

I have to tug on my clit to make my pubes look smaller,

you know what I mean?

It's like a-- it's like a thicket of pubes,

like, woven together like a wicker goddamn basket, you know?

Like a wicker basket so sturdy

you could put it on the front of a bicycle,

put E.T. in there and then bike to the goddamn moon, okay?

And I don't have a happy trail,

I have a six-lane goddamn highway with--

with wall-to-wall traffic going up from my bush,

around my belly button-- my eyes are up here--

continues up my chest, goes around each one of my nipples,

like, nipple hair so long,

I could tie my tits together to get amazing cleavage, okay?

My eyes are up here. Goes up my neck, over my lip,

I have like a neck-beard and mustache,

like I watch Rick and Morty or whatever,

goes up each one of my sideburns,

goes from my head, across to my eyebrows,

my eyebrows shake hands in the middle,

like they're causing a two-state solution

in the middle of my fucking forehead, okay?

Goes down my mullet, down my rat tail,

down my back, and around my anus, okay?

I have so many ingrowns around my asshole,

I need a seam-ripper to get them out, okay?

I don't have a happy trail,

I have like a Möbius strip of pubes.

It keeps-- It's like a pube eating its own pube of pubes.

No, and I can't believe that I can't get onstage

for one fucking second.

No, it actually makes me sick. Look at me.

I literally have chills. I literally have goose bumps.

I can't believe that I can't get onstage

for one fucking second.

Seriously, I can't get onstage for one fucking second

in RFK Jr.'s America in 2025.

I can't get onstage as a proud 16-year-old

Jewish woman for one fucking second?

I can't get onstage for one fucking second

and touch my nipple like that for one fucking second?

No, seriously, I can't get onstage

as a proud 14-year-old Jewish woman

in JD Vance's America

and touch my butthole for one fucking second?

Seriously, I can't touch my nipple for one fucking second?

I can't touch my butthole for one fucking second?

I can't touch my butthole like this, my nipple like this?

I can't touch my nipple like this, my butthole like this?

I can't touch my nipple like this, my butthole like this?

I can't put one phallic item near my mouth?

I can't put two phallic items near my--?

For one fucking second without a guy in the front row going...

Awooga!

Hummina-hummina-hummina! Hummina-hummina-hummina!

Hubba-hubba, toil and trubba!

Fire burn and cauldron bubba!

Swing, batta-batta-batta! Swing, batta-batta-batta!

The Yankees win!

The Yankees win the World fucking Series!

I'm jerking off! I'm jerking off!

I'm gonna come! I'm gonna come!

Va fangool! Your mother!

I'm jerking off! I'm gonna come!

Really? I can't get one fucking word out?

It's fucking disgusting.

So, um, every time I do that,

I'm like, great, so I broke my throat.

That's awesome. I broke my throat.

You don't care about the commitment

I'm willing to show you. Um...

So I went to an ENT

to get a look at my vocal cords to see if anything bad happened,

and look at the footage I got!

Yep.

She shoved a camera down my throat

to look at my vocal cords.

So those are my-- those are my tiny--

Those are my tiny--

Those are my tiny little vocal cords.

And like basically,

sound is produced from your vocal cords

from, like, slamming against each other really hard.

But like if you're someone like me,

who's born with a tiny little

female-assigned throat hole at birth...

it takes more force and exertion

for your cords to slam against each other

to produce a big and loud sound

as big as someone with a giant, gaping,

male-assigned throat hole at birth.

So, ladies!

You know what that means!

La-la-la-ladies!

You know what th-th-th-that means!

God wants women

to be quiet!

And I can't be quiet.

I need to be heard.

I have important things to say, like...

Do these clown pants

make me look fat?

Can a big, strong man

help me put my air conditioning unit in my window?

My arms hurt from Pilates!

What are you--

You guys are like, "Thank God."

What are you guys doing this summer? Anything fun?

- Beach. - You go to the beach?

You go to the beach?

You're a sicko. You understand that?

You're a sick fucking fuckface.

You go hang out with your friends at the fucking beach?

You all just look at each other

while you're half-naked and all the lights are on? Really?

The sun being out? God's lights?

I hate going to the fucking beach, okay?

I don't want my shit hanging out, okay?

I want a bathing suit that's like clothes, you know?

I want a bathing suit that's like a full fumigation tent.

I want to be like Laura Palmer wrapped in plastic

floating down the fucking river.

And every bathing suit that everyone makes these days

is like this fucking big. It's this tiny little big.

You know what I mean? It's like a goldfish

strung up on angel hair pasta, you know what I mean?

It's like a little Ritz cracker strung up on dental floss.

You think my hockey puck of a clit

can hide behind a tiny little Band-Aid-sized bathing suit

when I look like this fully naked?

Look at the screen!

Look at it!

What beach could I go to looking like this?

What fucking beach could I go to with these, like, tentacles

knocking around?

What bathing suit could control all of this,

you know what I mean?

Oh, you think that's disgusting? Really?

Have you seen what Republican lawmakers are doing

to women's bodies in this country?

'Cause that's pretty fucking disgusting.

What bathing suit could contain all this?

Look at the screen.

Look at the screen, sir.

If I was a stripper, I'd send people's heads through my legs

and call it a car wash

'cause they would just get hit with flaps

and like sprayed with foam.

I can't go to the beach.

What bathing suit would cover my cow-udder nipples?

I can't go to the beach.

My lips are so long and distended and disgusting,

they knock around between my knees

like the pendulum on a grandfather clock, you know?

They're long and, like, distended and disgusting,

like the jowls of an old English mastiff

and just as slobbery too, you know what I mean?

They're like fully just red and infected like a turkey's wattle.

I've got a full open-faced Reuben between my legs,

dribbling in Thousand Island dressing.

Like, my vibrator is a pickle spear and a napkin.

I have so much old meat in my underwear,

I gotta keep a silica packet in there

to keep it from going bad.

Like, I can't go to the beach.

My lips are so long,

in order to get my lips into a tiny little bathing suit,

I have to roll each lip up,

like a Meat Fruit Roll-Up, or a Meat by the Foot,

and, like, pack it into my tiny little bathing suit,

stick a space-saver tube in there,

suck all the air out and like shrink-wrap my pussy

like I'm folding up a chunky Christmas sweater

and putting it in an attic for next Christmas.

I can't go to the beach. My hole is so big,

if I sit on a pile of sand, it'll create a sand castle,

you know what I mean?

My vaginal canal is so distorted and misshapen,

the architecture of the sand castle would be Gaudí-esque.

No, I get it. You guys don't like gross stuff.

I get it.

I get it. I get it.

You guys don't like the gross stuff. I get--

You know, we're running out of time.

I know you guys have like big things to do or whatever,

and I was gonna show you guys--

I was gonna do a whole game

where I was gonna show some blood splatter,

and you would have to guess where

the blood splatter is from. But I get it.

You guys don't have time. You don't wanna do it.

I know you don't. You don't.

We don't have time! Guys, we don't. We don't!

I was gonna show you blood splatter

and I was going to say like,

"Where is this blood splatter from?

From a paper cut,

a vaccine jab, or a hangnail?"

What do you guys think it's from?

Obviously we don't have time. It's from a hangnail.

But no. Oh no!

Look at the screen. Look at the screen.

I know. You guys paid $40 for tickets

and I'm giving you the Criterion Collection for free.

"Oh no. Don't show--" I get it.

You guys don't have time to look at something like that.

You have no-- You have things to do.

You don't wanna-- "I don't want to see all that."

I get it. You guys don't want to do that.

I was going to show you blood, say, "Where is this from?

Getting veneers or flossing for one minute

for the first time in six years?"

Where do you guys think it's from?

Obviously flossing. But no. I get it.

We don't have time to go through all this.

I was gonna say something like, I have so many pubes going down--

Look at the screen.

I have so many pubes that going down on me

is like getting a good floss.

Four out of five dentists agree. They've all gone down on me.

But you guys don't-- I get it.

You don't wanna see this. You don't wanna see--

Oh, what kind of blood is this?

Is it period blood or blood from a period piece

when a little pioneer girl coughs into a handkerchief

and... "Papa?" ...blood comes out?

You guys don't wanna see that. A five, six, seven, eight.

It's obviously from period blood.

But no, I get it.

You guys have to go home.

Is there a doctor in the room?

Is there a doctor in the room?

Doctor, is this normal?

Okay. No, I get it.

You guys don't want to see all that.

No, I get it. We'll end the show.

You don't care. You don't care about this.

You don't care about the avant-garde. I get it.

I was gonna say, "Where's this from?

Hemorrhoid blood or bloody stool?"

Obviously it's from-- five, six, seven, eight,

one, two, three, four...

Bloody stool, so...

I can't wipe regular. You understand?

If I wipe regular,

it looks like a Rothko painting, "Movement in Red."

Like, I can't even use one of those tushy bidets.

I need a fuckin' fire hose. Okay?

I have to go whitewater rafting asshole-first.

But I get it. I get it.

I was going to say, "Where is this from?

Hemorrhoid blood or bloody stool?"

It's obviously hemorrhoid blood

'cause now the show has come full circle.

We started with hemorrhoids, we're ending with hemorrhoids.

But I get it. You guys don't have hemorrhoids.

You have perfect holes.

You have perfect holes.

Your holes are a perfectly smooth circle.

I could just stick a finger in there

and send you guys down a bowling alley lane

to knock over a couple of pins. I get it.

Oh, this old thing?

Did you guys have a fun time tonight?

You guys have been such an amazing audience.

Keep it going for yourself.

We've seen a lot of things we can't unsee.

I said a lot of things I can't unsay.

Which is why I wanted to end tonight's show

with a little guided meditation.

'Cause I wanted to provide you guys with a bit of aftercare

'cause you guys seemed really stressed out all night.

And I want to make sure you all feel

deeply calm, deeply...

Relaxed

Everybody, close your eyes.

Awesome. I see every eye fully open.

How about we get those eyes fully closed.

Relax your body

by releasing any areas of tension.

Allow your arms to go limp.

Oh!

And then your legs.

Ooh!

Now just...

Relax

Breathe deeply, inhale.

Allow your lungs to fill with fresh air

and comedy club mouth-breath.

And exhale.

Releasing all that COVID.

Inhale.

Exhale.

You are deeply calm, deeply...

Relaxed

Imagine you are on a beach,

the East River beach.

Isn't that nice?

You hear the waves crashing on the shore.

You smell the ocean spray.

The air smells moist and it smells brown.

You hear a pleasant breeze blowing through the palm trees.

Inhale.

Exhale.

You are deeply calm, deeply...

Relaxed

Off in the distance,

you see a figure approaching,

wading through the water. Mmm!

His broad shoulders are in silhouette

underneath the gaze of the bright sun.

The closer he gets,

the more clear his features become.

Ooh!

His sinuous muscles stretched taut

beneath glistening bronzed skin.

Ooh!

Inhale.

Exhale.

You are deeply calm, deeply...

Relaxed

You see the man reach down into the water

to retrieve something.

What is it?

He pulls an enormous chonch shell

from the ocean floor.

Chonch shell. Chonch shell? Chonch shell.

Chonk shell? Conch shell? Conk shell.

Conk shell? Conch shell? Chonch shell. Chonch shell.

Conk shell? Conk shell.

Conk shell. Conk shell. Chonk shell.

Conch shell?

He pulls an enormous Coachella shell

from the ocean floor.

Its gaping, almond-shaped maw is rimmed

with a fleshy pink hue.

Salt water dribbles from the corner of the tchotchke's mouth

as the man's rugged hands

bring it into the sunlight.

Inhale.

Exhale.

You are deeply calm, deeply...

Relaxed

You see the man slide

his turgid, throbbing, tree-trunk...

penis...

into the mouth of...

the shell.

The deeper his shaft

plunges into the shell...

the more salt water gushes out from it.

Inhale.

Exhale.

You are deeply calm, deeply...

Relaxed

The man looks up at you,

you see now for the first time,

the man's piercing blue eyes are familiar.

It is your...

dad!

Relaxed

Your dad stares intently at you

as he slides his shaft into

and out of the shell's wet hole.

Just relax

Allow the waves to wash over you.

Allow the tide to pull your head beneath the surface.

Inhale.

Allow your lungs to fill completely with salt water.

Just relax

You are drowning!

Just relax

So allow your soul

to leave your body.

Just relax

Finally, you've achieved the ultimate peace

in the great eternal cosmos

of the afterlife!

You are deeply calm.

Deeply dead!

And deeply...

Relaxed

Thank you guys so much for coming.

I love you guys so much.

I've been Sarah. Good night.

What'd you guys think of the show?

- It was awesome. - Awesome.

I feel great. I feel enlightened.

That is a bizarre person with a disturbed mind.

I've never seen vocal cords look so wet.

- It was nuts. - It was kind of scary.

But in a good way.

I'm more wet than I thought I would be.

Oh, it makes you want to fall in love, and, uh,

it's incredible, you know? She's the best.

She's the greatest. I love her.

And it was everything we wanted to see and more.

Sarah killed it. The last time I saw the show,

my grandma came,

and she loved the labia part.

It was incredible. I think in the future,

they're gonna talk about the history

before the show and after.

And they're gonna determine that it was this show

that drove humanity over the edge,

right down into the toilet.

I loved it. I laughed, I cried.

I got my period in the middle of the show.

We're all gonna rock out for Sarah tonight!

Whoo-hoo! Sarah Squirm!

I'll never forget it as long as I live.

It was better than ice cream.

I would like to wear a poncho next time.

I love Sarah.

She's really gross.

She's fucking crazy.

I thought it was wonderful.

She's funny. She's funny!

It was such a cute night out.

She's really funny and really fucking disgusting.

Dude, it makes me fucking sick.

It changed my life.

I love Sarah!

I've never felt this way in my life.