Ali Wong: Hard Knock Wife

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1

Ladies and gentlemen,

please welcome to the stage

Ali Wong!

What y'all thought

Y'all wasn't gon' see me?

I'm the Osirus of this sh*t

Wu-Tang is here forever, motherfuckers

It's like this ninety-seven

Aight my niggas and my niggarettes

Let's do it like this

I'ma rub your ass in the moonshine

Let's take it back to seventy-nine

I bomb atomically

Socrates' philosophies and hypotheses

Can't define

How I be droppin' these mockeries

Lyrically perform armed robbery

Flee with the lottery

Possibly they spotted me

Battle-scarred shogun

Explosion when my pen hits

Oh, my goodness!

I heard a rumor

that all of the Asians in this city...

Have congregated

in this theater tonight.

Yeah.

Thank you for coming

with your white boyfriends.

I really...

Appreciate it,

from the bottom of my heart.

I'm so excited to be here.

I have not been performing that much

at all, in the past two years,

because two years ago,

I gave birth to a baby girl.

And when I first started to come back out

to do stand-up,

the other stand-up comics,

they couldn't believe it.

They were like, "Oh, my God, Ali...

"What are you doing here?

"Didn't you just have a baby?"

I was like, "Listen...

I've been with my baby girl

since she was born,

all day every day.

And I love her so much.

But I'm on the verge

of putting her in the garbage.

I need to be here to miss her,

So that I don't go to jail."

It's so sexist when people ask me,

"Well, if you're here,

then who's taking care of the baby?"

Who the f*** do you think

is taking care of the baby?

The TV is taking care of the baby, okay?

The windows are open, she's got

gummy vitamins on her lap, she's fine!

I tried being a stay-at-home mom,

for eight weeks.

I like the stay-at-home part.

Not too crazy about the mom aspect,

that sh*t is relentless.

I was stupid and naive, and I thought

that being a stay-at-home mom

was about chillaxing,

getting to sh*t in your own home,

Watch Wendy Williams and go out

to brunch with your sassy girlfriends.

I did not understand

that the whole price you have to pay

for staying at home

is that you've gotta be a mom.

Oh, and that's a job.

It's a wack-ass job.

You get no 401K, no co-workers.

You're just in solitary confinement

all day long

with this human Tamagotchi...

That don't got no reset button,

so the stakes are extremely high.

A toy Tamagotchi is more communicative

than a human baby.

Okay? Because the toy will at least

tell you when it poos.

With a human baby, you just have to guess

and check your intuition

by sniffing its ass...

Twenty-six times a day.

And you can't phone it in

and sniff it from afar.

You really gotta flip the baby over,

plant your face in the baby's ass

and give it a good yoga inhale

with your mouth and everything,

because the inside of your nose has been

singed from all the poo-poo smelling.

That's how I know I love my baby more

than anybody else in the entire world.

I told my husband "Till death do us part."

And not once have I ever...

sniffed his ass...

To check if he sh*t his pants.

I've licked it, but I haven't sniffed it.

Because sniffing it would be disgusting!

Okay?

And if you haven't licked ass yet,

grow up. Grow the f*** up.

And learn how to be

in a long-term, committed,

lasting-relationship full of love

where you have to make sacrifices

for the greater good.

My dream, my goal for the longest time

was to be a trophy wife,

but then I found out

that in order to be a trophy wife,

you have to be a trophy.

I am more of a commemorative plaque.

I joined a moms' group in Los Angeles.

Yeah, I don't find any of these b*tches

particularly interesting or fun,

but when you're a new mom

on maternity leave,

it's like The Walking Dead,

you just gotta hook up with a crew

to survive.

I used to hate on other moms

for the clothes that they wore.

You know these f***ing clothes

that moms wear,

all that cheesy-ass animal print and...

loud metallic shiny shoes.

And now I see something that's bedazzled

in rhinestones, and I'm like, "Oh...

That looks nice.

I think I'ma get that!"

The more glitter the better,

because when you're a mom

you need sparkle.

To compensate for the light inside of you

that has died.

A lot of young women have anxiety

about giving birth.

Well, let me tell you something.

Giving birth ain't nothing

compared to breastfeeding!

Breastfeeding is brutal.

It is chronic physical torture.

I thought it was supposed to be

this beautiful bonding ceremony,

where I would feel like I was sitting

on a lily pad in a meadow

and bunnies would gather at my feet

while the fat Hawaiian man version

of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow"

would play.

No!

It's not like that at all!

Breastfeeding is this savage ritual

that just reminds you

that your body is a cafeteria now!

It don't belong to you no more.

When my baby girl would get hungry,

she'd yank my nipple back and forth

like that bear f***ing up

Leonardo DiCaprio in The Revenant.

It's frightening. I saw that movie,

and my nipples were like,

"I feel you, Leo!"

I didn't take any classes

on breastfeeding,

because I assumed it was just gonna be

this very easy intuitive thing

where the baby sucks on your nipple

like a straw,

and the nurse promised me

that I would have

a particularly easy time,

since my nipples look like fingers.

You can spin DVDs on them,

that's how Command hook-like they are.

But apparently, you have to get the baby

to latch on at a very specific angle.

You gotta tilt their head and do geometry

to get them on properly.

And it's very stressful,

because when they're hungry

and they're crying,

it makes your hormones spray milk

all over their face and their neck,

which then become very slippery

and hard to grip,

and then you gotta slam them on

at just the right time.

And every time I would do it,

it was like parallel parking.

I don't know how I did it!

It's a mystery. I was never

properly trained, but I just did it.

I just went back and forth,

and back and forth, and back and forth,

until all these very concerned strangers

start gathering outside of my car.

Those people who gather

outside of Asian women's cars

while we're parking...

Are so helpful and so racist

at the same time.

I'm always like, "Thank you.

Thank you, but f*** you...

For assuming correctly about me!

I could not have done this without you!"

My mom saw me struggle with breastfeeding

and she was very discouraging about it,

and she was like,

"Why are you breastfeeding?

I raised you on formula

and look how shiny your hair is."

She was like, "Are you falling

for that bullshit slogan,

'breast is best'?"

I was like, "No...

I do it because breast is free.

Come on, Mom, you know what it is.

Local, organic, free-range,

farm-to-mouth milk

squirting outta my titties."

It was squirting out of like 15 holes

in each titty,

like the Bellagio fountain, just, "Woo.

Woo, woo, woo.

Woo, woo, woo."

For free!

My body was a food factory.

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