Jo Koy: Live from Seattle Page #4

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what a free milk looked like.

I go, "Joe, a free milk

was a carton of milk

that looked like a house from Monopoly.

And it had three simple instructions.

You pulled the right side to the right,

the left side to the left,

and then you pinched the middle

and pulled it towards your chest,

and it's supposed to make a spout.

But it never made a f***ing spout.

So, you turned it to the back

and started over.

That side had too much glue.

You couldn't even open that f***ing side.

So you just ripped it open in the middle.

Now you're drinking milk

out of a square box.

And when you were done with that milk,

you put soil in it and a bean,

and you grew a tree."

Yeah. Public school.

I gotta get my son to be humble.

How is my son gonna be humble

when I've been driving him to school?

His whole school career,

he's been chauffeured to school.

He's never been on a bus before.

That sh*t will make you humble.

Go to school on a public bus.

He doesn't even know what a public bus...

I just found out my son doesn't know

what a school bus is.

We were driving on the freeway,

and a school bus passed us,

and my son goes like this:

"Where are they going?"

"F***ing school, a**hole.

Who's this dick?"

He's been going to school...

You gotta go to school on a bus.

That sh*t will make you humble.

Go to school on a bus with a bunch of kids

that hate their f***ing life.

That was me. I hated my life.

I was the last kid on,

and I was the last kid off.

Hated that sh*t. Every time I got on,

there was only one seat left,

and there was always that one kid

that didn't want to share the seat.

And I'd walk up to him.

He's, like, "You better not even think

about sitting here."

And I'd go, "Where am I supposed to sit?"

"I don't f***ing care."

And the bus driver doesn't give a sh*t.

"You'd better sit down back there."

"I don't know where to sit.

He's not gonna let me sit down.

She's getting mad.

She's not gonna go unless I sit down.

I won't even sit on the whole thing.

Just let me... let me sit on the edge."

I had to sit on the edge

and then hold the seat across the aisle.

I went to school

looking like I took a sh*t on the bus.

And then he'd still f*** with me.

"Why do you smell like Vicks?"

"Because I have pneumonia."

He's got it so good.

I've got to stop spoiling him.

I spoil him too much.

It sucks.

But the reason I spoil him is because

I didn't have sh*t when I was a kid.

We were broke as sh*t.

And now that I can afford it,

I'm buying everything.

And yes, it's for him, but he doesn't know

that it's actually for us.

All that cool sh*t he has, I want it, too.

I want it so bad.

This Christmas pissed me off.

I go, "Joe, you want a PS4 for Christmas?"

He goes, "No."

I go, "Why the f*** not?

You're selfish, bro."

I want all that sh*t.

I want all those toys.

And I'm holding back, but it's hard.

It's so damn hard.

We went to the mall. This was, like,

seven months ago, eight months ago.

And the kiosk with the hoverboards.

Oh, sh*t. And my son got on it

like a f***ing natural.

He just got on and was, like,

"Oh, my God. Dad.

Dad.

Dad!

Dad! I've got to have this, Dad.

I've got to have this."

And I just looked at him,

and this is what I said in my head.

I go, "Yes, we do."

But I was being a good dad.

I was, like, "No.

I can't buy that for you."

He goes, "Why not?"

I go, "Because you have a C-minus in Math,

and I can't reward you for that.

Bring the grade up to a B,

and I'll buy it for you."

My son goes like this:

"Are you serious right now?"

And this is what I said, I swear to God.

I went like this: "I know, right?

Why'd you fail the test, man?"

We both left that mall

just f***ing crying.

I wanted that hoverboard so bad.

And then I told him,

"Joe, I'll buy you that hoverboard.

I'm gonna get you a tutor,

and she's gonna help you with your math.

You bring the grade up, it's done."

So, I get the tutor.

This is how shitty of a dad I am.

Just for one week with the tutor,

he has a quiz the following week.

Four out of five right.

Doesn't even apply to the grade.

And I just looked at him like this:

"Look at you, Einstein.

Looks like we need to go to the mall

and get something, don't we?"

And I got that hoverboard.

Oh, I f***ing love that thing.

I ride it every morning.

[bleeping sounds]

"You want cereal?"

"Yes, Dad."

"I'll be right back."

[bleeping sounds]

I crashed on that hoverboard. Holy sh*t.

I got wood floors at my house.

This is what it sounded like

when I crashed.

Twice, because I skipped across the floor.

And this is how old I am. When I finally

landed, this is what I said.

I went, "Uhh!

Oh, f***ing hip!

Oh, my f***ing hip! It's broken!"

And my son doesn't give two shits

about me.

He came around the corner

and went like this: "Dad?

Where's my hoverboard?"

"F*** you, Joe.

F*** you."

Don't buy that hoverboard.

I don't even know why

they sell it in America.

I don't know how they got past inspection.

They're dangerous.

When the battery's dead,

it doesn't even tell you.

I swear to God, it just stops mid-ride.

And then it catapults you across

the living room at 17 miles per hour.

I'm flying through the air with

a bowl of cereal, like, "What the f***?!

Sh*t!"

Thirteen. God damn it.

They grow fast, you guys.

He's at that age where he doesn't want

to kiss me anymore. It makes me so sad.

I hate it. "Have a good day at school."

He's like this:
"All right."

And I...

I don't know what to do now.

Turning into a man.

I don't like the way God tells you

that your son is turning into a man.

It's too quick. I'm not even

mentally prepared for this.

I found out last year

that he's turning into a man.

It sucked. Last year...

This is when I found out.

He was in the pool, swimming,

and I'm on the outside of the pool,

just watching my son swim.

He comes out of the pool.

This is what he says to me, word-for-word,

when he comes out of the pool.

He went like this:

"This pubic hair is tickling my butt."

And when he said "pubic hair,"

he meant one pubic hair.

Just one. It's so long,

it's tickling his a**hole.

And I started crying.

I go, "Why do you have a pubic hair?

Why?"

And that's it. That's it.

The pube is here.

That was last year. He's 13 now.

How many does he have now, 20?

I'm not ready for that.

No more toys anymore.

No more of the cute toys

he used to play with when he was 11, 12.

Transformers,

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles... f*** that.

He's got a new toy.

He's got a new toy that he's gonna love

to play with a lot more.

He's probably gonna play with it

in front of the old toys.

And there's nothing I can do about it.

I'm not prepared for that. My son?

Now! This is when it starts!

Thirteen. This is when it starts.

Sh*t! And I'm gonna catch him.

I'm gonna catch him. It's inevitable.

I'm gonna catch my son jerking off.

Are you kidding me?

And what do I say to him when I catch him?

I don't even know what to say to him.

What do I say? "Stop doing that"?

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