- She could be actively sucking my dick at the bar
while we're getting married at the same time,
and dudes would still be going,
"What are you doing later?"
[dark electronic music]
♪
[man roars]
[both snarling]
[dark electronic music]
♪
[man grunting]
[gunshots]
[dark electronic music]
[zombie growls]
[gun cocks]
[zombie growls]
[gunshot]
♪
- Ladies and gentlemen, so excited to bring him up.
Finally doing my show.
From the--the host of "The Doug Stanhope Podcast,"
Mr. Doug Stanhope!
♪
- This story is about relationships,
and I'm pretending to read it
out of my book that just came out,
called "Digging Up Mother:
A Love Story."
Foreword by Johnny Depp.
There's a chick-- uh, a lady
I used to date in the late '90s.
She was out of my league.
She was a, uh,
former child star.
One of "People" magazine's
50 most beautiful people in the world,
but not one of mine.
But she was, uh--yeah, she was out of my league.
Bu--we had nothing in common.
I don't know if you remember the old Coach & Horses.
It's now called the Pikey.
It was this shitty dive bar down on Sunset,
and that's where I hung out.
I just lived there.
Slumped over with my seahorse posture at the bar
and this fucking A-lister chick,
she was hanging out with the Kennedys
and going to dinner with Rod Stewart,
and I'm not invited.
I'm down fucking off at the Coach & Horses
with the schlubs and--
The relationship ended
where she had-- she took some crazy flight--
"I'm going to the Cannes Film Festival."
Really? Can I come?
"No."
And I know that she has this big shot,
global A-list ex-boyfriend
over there that...
what, I can't come, but you're--
you're gonna be with that guy?
And--and she came back,
And the long version is in the book.
Doug Stanhope, "Digging Up Mother,"
available now on Amazon.
She comes back and she--
I said,
"So were you with that guy?"
And she goes, "Yeah, I saw him."
And I said, "Did you fuck him?"
I just cornered her. Just said it.
"Did you fuck him?"
And she said, "No."
But then she continued on with,
"But I gave him a blow job in his car."
You could have just stopped after "No."
Like, technically, you wouldn't be lying.
You wouldn't be perjuring yourself.
You didn't have to give me the blow job in the car.
I can't tell you
who the guy is,
but I'll tell you what he does for a living.
He's the prince of [bleep].
So I'll just leave it vague.
That's not in the book,
because the lawyers wouldn't allow it.
Now you know the rest of the story.
So I go out on--the-- you--
you get dumped like that,
and you want to get revenge pussy.
Like, I'm gonna go drop my dick
into any vacant hole in town.
Fuck.
But all my sewer grade options were--
They don't tally up with the fucking prince of [bleep].
Gonna fuck a Denny's waitress--
No, you--
So I--there used to--
I don't know if it still exists.
There was a-- a club called The Union
down on Sunset, and they did comedy.
So I went down, I had a show scheduled,
I show up for an 8:00 show, but they're late.
They haven't unlocked the doors.
So there's a group of people--
I can put this book down now, right, probably?
The book, "Digging"--
You get it. You get it.
So I'm outside of this club,
waiting to go inside, and--and they're closed.
But there's a group of people gathered,
and, uh, there's a girl alone
that was probably, to this day,
the most beautiful woman
I've ever seen in my life.
"People" magazine wasn't there, you know.
And she asked me for a cigarette,
which triples the attraction.
Like, a girl that hot
that's not trying?
Like, fuck yeah!
She's not a Hollywood chick--
this is an actual hot chick,
and she bums a cigarette,
and I start some small talk.
I'm not good at it, but I--I--
Uh, what comic are you here to see?
Hoping she doesn't say the wrong name,
'cause the last thing that you want to hear
is a fuckin' hot girl say she's here to see a shitty comic.
That would just break your heart.
So we have a repertoire. We're talking.
And we carry this inside the bar when they open it,
and we sit down, and she's drinking whiskey straight,
and matching me or better.
For every beer I drink,
she's a whiskey or two ahead of me.
And I'm-- this it the fucking--
this is...perfect!
And I didn't tell her that I was a comedian
or that I was doing the show.
We're just sitting there getting hammered,
and drinking, and I just waited
till they announced my name,
and then just, "Hey, I'll be back in ten minutes.
Just hold my seat."
And I go up, and I fucking destroyed.
I just went, hey, hang on.
I go--and then I go up, I destroyed.
It was like the scene from "Anchorman"
where he plays the jazz flute.
And I just, "Oh, yeah, I'll..."
And I fucking crushed.
It was the best kill move.
Came offstage, sat back down at the bar beside her
like nothing happened.
So anyway, where were we?
I'm not fucking smooth, but I was--
If I can't close this deal,
I don't deserve the paper.
So we're shit-faced,
I bring her down to the Coach & Horses,
which she loves, unlike the girl that dumped me.
Yeah, she's fuckin' all about dive bars,
and I introduce her to all my friends there, and--
quickly, 'cause I don't want them to steal her.
And we spend the night together,
and, uh, at my apartment.
I wake up to a-- a noncommittal,
but nice note with a phone number.
And, um...
Rebound pussy...
Sometimes you cling to that
with ten times the zeal
of the relationship
you're recovering from
just for fear of an empty bed.
I need you back.
And it turns out she just--
she was living three blocks behind the Coach & Horses
and she became a regular
at my bar.
With everybody hitting on her.
And I have no claim to that.
Like, I fucked her once, so she's like, "Yeah,
"fucked you, nice to--
Here's a note. Fucked you. That was fun."
So I--I don't have a claim, but--
she's not my girlfriend, but that's my rebound pussy,
and everyone at the bar is now hitting on her
now that she's a regular,
and even if I did have claim to her,
no one would have-- she could be
actively sucking my dick at the bar
while we're getting married at the same time,
and dudes would still be going,
"What are you doing later?"
I got--
And there was one night where I--
I didn't want to be aggressive with her.
Like, I'm hands-off, but there was one night--
There was a group of regulars back then
at the bar that I knew.
There's three levels of regulars.
There's the guy that you hug when you come in,
there's the one that you high-five,
and then there's the one you nod at.
This one guy, Lorca was his name.
Lorca, he was a nodder.
He was a third level regular.
And he was this brooding, dour drunk.
He was a runty little fuck,
and--and when he'd get drunk, he'd just--
he was always-- he looked like he was always
at the edge of a fistfight, and he just...
But he was always sitting with--
Renee was the girl, the beautiful girl,
and he--I--I noticed he's sitting with her a lot,
and I thought--is--
is she fucking him?
But I can't ask.
She's just a girl I fucked,
but she's everything I need.
I need you now.
I can't be alone with the fucking
carnival in my head in my bed.
There was a night where
we ended up playing cat and mouse,
where...
they were sitting together,
and he'd get up to get a drink,
and I'd sneak in, and try to get her over to my table,
or she'd get up to take a piss
and I'd strategically locate myself by that end of the bar
so when she came out of the bathroom,
"Hey, I bought you a drink. Come over this way.
Fuck that guy. Come this way."
And it was a-- it was a long night
of drinking, where I noticed
Lorca was leering at me.
And I've--I've seen him do this
every night that I sit at this bar,
but tonight I think, is--
is he trying to mad dog me?
I-is he-- or is he just fucked up?
But he's just staring at me.
He'd come up to my table and lean on it.
I was like, maybe he's just fucked up.
And at that point, uh,
my, uh, friends Matt Becker and big fat Ralphie May,
if you know big fat Ralphie May, they show up,
and I go, I don't know if I'm being paranoid,
but is this guy trying to start shit with me?
Like, look at how he's looking at me.
And they're both more paranoid that me.
And big fat Ralphie May, "Yeah, Dougie Stanhope.
"Yeah. Yeah, that guy's trying to start some shit.
Fuck that dude, man."
And I--
I--I--
But he has done nothing overtly
for me to, like, step up to him and go like,
"Hey, you know, that-- the weird look
"on your countenance is disconcerting.
Can you stop that, sir?"
Like, I-- I have nothing to say, but I--
I-I'm sad that I'm such a coward.
Like, I--
Do I have to man-up to this dude?
Like, the--he's done nothing.
I'm s--I'm--I'm sad
that I'm so deluded by this girl
that I don't even know if I have to be brave in the first place.
I just--I just want the girl.
So I just let it ruin my night
while he's staring at me and I'm staring at him
and I'm staring at her
and I don't know how to fuckin' close the deal.
So at one point,
they call, "Last call.
You're welcome to be invited to get the fuck out of our bar."
We all funnel out and I'm still trying to figure out
how I can close the deal.
Or if I'm gonna have to fucking fight a dude?
I don't--I don't...
So we walk out of the bar.
Ralphie May, Matt Becker, and I,
we take a left to go to the car,
and this dude Lorca runs out behind us
to try to cross Sunset Boulevard in a hurry,
and he gets killed
by a speeding car.
[shocked laughter]
Literally knocked him out of his shoes.
[laughter]
I didn't expect the story to end like that either.
Thanks.
[cheers and applause]
♪