Jim Norton: Mouthful of Shame Page #3

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But I wish I would've improv'd

that line I did before:

"Hey, I wouldn't go over 350

for foot worship."

Ha ha! Elbowed her.

Ohh, we'd have made love.

But I knew I was caught somehow.

I didn't know how she knew.

But you know how it is

when you get caught.

I'm just like, "I'm sorry.

I'm a sex addict. I don't know."

There's no way to fish for information

when you're trying

to save your relationship.

I couldn't go, "Baby, I love you.

How did you know, for future reference?"

Here's how she knew.

She told me how she knew.

'Cause none of us are as smart

as we think we are.

None of us understand the technology

as well as we think we do.

And we're all on Wi-Fi,

and all the devices are connected.

And I was in this chat,

and I'm lathered up.

I only have one hand to use on the phone,

obviously.

I hit the wrong button

and I printed the entire conversation

in the living room--

a seven-page PDF file.

Clear, too,

'cause I'd just put in fresh ink.

It was very readable.

And by a terrible coincidence,

she needed the printer the next morning,

'cause she was taking a college course

at the time.

She was very advanced for her age.

So, she takes this conversation out

of the printer,

and the paper she wrote,

and she heads off to class with this.

And this is absolutely the truth.

Thank God she didn't hand it in.

'Cause she was crazy.

I firmly believe she would've woken me up

by putting a knife in my stomach.

She would not have been--

But it would've been a funnier joke.

There's no funny part.

It would've been a much cleverer joke

if she had handed it in, and I would've--

"I got an A. She got a C. Hey-oh!"

The truth itself is not funny.

It's just sad.

The way it played out was

she read the text,

and she felt really betrayed,

and she cried.

[mock crying]

You know?

That's what I'll do.

I'll jazz it up with one of those.

"Got a lot of--" you know?

But I kind of regret it.

You've got to be so careful what you say

and what you put in text,

because this day and age, anything you do

can f***ing ruin your life.

You've got to be so scared

of every text you send,

every dirty picture you send,

everything you put on Snapchat.

I mean, I'll tell you

who has struck a blow for privacy.

Hulk Hogan did more for privacy

than any shitty politician has done

in the last ten years

'cause he sued Gawker out of existence.

And that was a very big thing.

You guys know the story.

Hulk was f***ing that woman.

He did not know he was being filmed.

And Gawker, I guess, put a link to it up,

and he says it ruined his life.

I think there was racist language

or something.

I guess at the time,

Brooke was dating a black guy,

and I guess Hulk was none too pleased.

And apparently he said the word "n*gger"

so many times

that Dog the Bounty Hunter hung up

on him.

So, WWE fired him,

and he said it ruined his life.

But I'll be honest.

I'm a bigger Hulk Hogan fan now

than I've never been.

Did you see the cock on Hulk Hogan?

I ran out and bought

a little yellow headband.

I'm a Hulkamaniac.

Jesus Christ. I never understood

why that stupid leg drop

was such an effective finishing move.

But now I'm just amazed nobody was killed

with that Civil War cannon strapped

to his leg.

"I'm gonna rip your a**hole apart,

brother!"

Thank you. That's my Hulk Hogan.

That's what you do when you can't do

an impression as a comedian.

You just jazz it up by moving funny.

You like Christopher Walken?

"Oh! You know, my watch. Ow!"

You name a person, I'll do him.

I don't care. I do good.

I thought you were gonna name somebody.

Okay.

[woman] Oprah!

Oprah? Worst guess ever.

You got to watch it. I was bummed

I f***ed up that relationship,

because that girl, she was dirty, man.

She would, like, lick my ass.

She was a trooper.

Every guy likes their ass eaten.

Let's not pretend that I'm the only one

who likes their ass licked.

Here's why that did not get

the rousing round of applause

that ass-eating does deserve.

Literally--

No, you don't have to do it now.

But whenever someone mentions ass-eating,

here's what people ought to do:

"Hold on. Let me put my drink down

and applaud for the idea of ass-eating."

[scattered applause]

No, no, no.

Hey. Easy.

She would eat my ass, and she would--

Look, here's the thing

with getting your ass licked.

It's--

It's embarrassing to ask for.

There's nothing worse than asking

for something

and having a girl go, "No."

Then you're ashamed of liking it.

If you want a girl to suck your dick,

you might go, "Come on, suck my dick."

And if she says no, then you can

kind of coax her a little bit.

Like, "Come on, suck my dick.

Eh? How about it?"

But it's embarrassing if you're like,

"Come on, just lick my ass a little bit."

"No."

"Come on, what are you doing?

Just get back there and eat it.

Part the hair with a comb

and slam your face in there.

What are you doing?

You're gonna feel like you're kissing

the scalp of a marathon runner.

Get in there, you silly goose."

So, you gotta kind of hint at it.

'Cause you can't be ashamed

about something if you're hinting.

So, say your girlfriend

is sucking your dick,

and she pops it out

and she's, like, licking the back.

Exaggeration, obviously.

What do you want, truth in comedy?

All right, so, she's licking the--

"What is he doing?

Is he sealing an envelope

or rolling a joint?

I don't understand."

But if you hint at something,

there's no shame in it

'cause they can't reject it.

So, if your girlfriend is giving you head,

you start raising your hips...

just a little bit. And moaning.

Get a little help, like...

[moaning]

Your balls will slowly drag over her face

like a street sweeper.

Then they're finally just sitting

on her forehead.

She looks like Tiberius Caesar.

She's like, "All right, I get it.

You want your ass licked. Got it."

And then they always do

that little tester lick on your a**hole.

Just a little...

You ever lick an a**hole?

It's like testing a battery.

And I'm gonna brag a little.

My a**hole passes with flying colors.

My a**hole is like two immaculate,

hairless peach halves.

And that's exactly how I describe it

on PlentyOfFish.

"Two immaculate, hairless peach halves,

just meant for nuzzling."

But I'm a dirty guy. I'm a dirty person.

And it's funny.

My whole career-- for those of you

who are familiar with me--

I've always said, "I'm a pervert."

But I'm not a pervert.

'Cause a pervert implies

you like a victim,

or you like tricking people.

And I realized that recently.

I don't like anybody vulnerable in sex.

I don't like drunk girls.

I don't like underage girls.

I don't have sex with children.

And I don't why more men

don't talk about that.

That's my best quality.

I don't like virgins. I don't like women

who've only been with a couple of guys,

'cause then it means too much to them,

and I know I'm kind of a piece of sh*t.

So, I don't want a girl to look at me

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