Never go paintballing with a Vietnam veteran.

Because when you are a woman with money, power, and respect, your romantic options do not expand.

They decline!

Now, I am told it's because men are threatened by women with money, power, and respect.

What you think is gonna happen to you, huh?

You think your dick is gonna get acquired in a hostile takeover?

I bet most men in this theater have never, ever had your dick sucked by a woman that makes a lot more money than you.

And let me tell you something, it is spectacular, okay?

It is. It is.

Why wouldn't it be?

If she got the skills to earn money, power, and respect, you don't think she got good pattern recognition?

Those skills transfer.

You should feel so lucky, so flattered, so blessed, and highly favored if you ever had the opportunity to get your dick sucked by a woman that makes a lot more money than you.

Because out of all the things this important woman could be doing with her valuable time...

A lot of people like to ask me,

A lot of people like to ask me,

Allie, how on earth do you balance family and career?

Men never get asked that question.

Because they don't.

I have a hoarding problem, which I'm hoping is the center of all of my other problems.

I'm hoping if the hoarding goes away, the HPV will also disappear.

I have a hoarding problem because my mom is from a third-world country.

And she taught me that you can never throw away anything because you never know when a dictator's gonna overtake the country and snatch all of your wealth.

So you better hold on to that retainer from the third grade because it might come in handy as a shovel when you're busy stuffing gold up your butt and running away from the communists.

The last time I was at home in San Francisco,

I was trying to help her get rid of shit.

Don't ever do that with your mom.

It was, like, the worst experience of my life.

It was so emotional.

We were screaming and fighting and yelling, and it all came to a climax when she refused to let go of a Texas Instruments TI-82 manual.

The Manuel.

She don't even know where the calculator is.

Those of you under 25 probably don't know what that calculator is.

It was this calculator that bamboozled my generation.

We were all required to buy it when we were in eighth grade.

It cost, like, $200.

And everybody thought it was, like, this Judy Jetson's laptop from the future, all because, what?

It could grasp.

It was like the Tesla of my time.

House Hunters is a show on HGTV where a couple pretends that there's a decision to be made together.

And they go on this fake-ass journey looking at three different houses, and the audience is meant to be left in suspense.

Which house are they gonna choose?

It's whichever one Barbara wanted in the first place, okay?

And Barbara, who lives in Boise, Idaho, or wherever the fuck these HGTV shows are filmed where houses cost $5,000 a acre...

Barbara, she don't got money, power, or respect, but Barbara is a woman, and all women are very good at being extremely unpleasant.

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...

Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh!

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 fucking up Leonardo DiCaprio in The Revenant.

It's frightening.

I saw that movie, and my nipples were like,

I feel you, Leo.

I do write for Fresh Off the Boat on ABC.

Yeah, which is, it's a great show.

I love it a lot. I love my co-workers.

It's a great writing staff, and in terms of day jobs, it's probably one of the best you could ask for.

But I still gotta work at a office every day, which means I gotta shit in a office every day.

Housewives, they don't gotta shit in a office.

Housewives get to shit in their house.

Skin to sea.

They don't gotta use that horrible toilet paper cover.

They don't gotta...

10 times a day, every day.

Like you're about to eat a sad-ass meal.

They don't gotta do that.

They don't gotta use that one-ply toilet paper, that office toilet paper that they purposely make difficult to pull out.

It's like they're trying to ration me with their communist toilet paper that's not even effective.

It basically just dehydrates your butthole.

It's basically like wiping your butt with a desert.

I literally spat on my toilet paper two days ago to try to make a MacGyver baby wipe to moisten it, and then it backfired cos my fingers broke through and digitally stimulated more doo-doo to come out, and then I had to start all over again.

And you can never finish wiping at work because you always feel rushed cos you're paranoid that your co-worker's gonna recognise your shoes underneath the stall, and you're like, oh, no, Courtney's listening, she's waiting, she's timing me, and then you hurry, hurry, hurry, and then you never finish wiping cos your butthole feels caked in doo-doo all day long, and then if you dare scratch yourself, your underwear at the end of the day looks like it's been run over by the goonies.

Housewives, they don't gotta muffle their shit, too.

They don't gotta worry about the velocity with which their doo-doo comes out.

They don't gotta try to, you know, squeeze the butt cheeks together to make sure that the doo-doo comes out at a slow and steady pace so that no unpredictable noise suddenly escapes and brings you deep, deep shame.

Housewives are free to just blow ass into the toilet and let it echo and reverberate to the ends of their hallways while watching as much Netflix on their iPad as they want.

They don't gotta take these boring, repressed shits.

They can listen to podcasts.

Plan and money, they can do whatever they want.

So then a GI specialist was called in, and I saw her look at the results, and she went like this.

And then she turns to me and says,

Miss Wong, I am so sorry that I gasped in front of your face.

That was so unprofessional of me.

I know exactly who you are.

Please do not talk about how I just did that on stage.

But, you know, I have to admit that I'm clearly alarmed by what I see here.

You are backed up well into your small intestine, and I'm almost certain that there is some sort of mass and most likely a tumor that's causing all of this blockage.

So we're gonna have to perform a colonoscopy to see what's going on in there.

I was like, why? You guys just did a CT scan.

And she was like, yes, it is true that the whole point of a CT scan is to see inside of your body, but the lasers couldn't penetrate the great wall of shit that's inside of you.

And they just ricocheted, bounced back into the machine, and now the machine is shook, so...

We're gonna have to stick a camera up your ass.

And I was so nervous, but what I didn't know was that right before the procedure, they give you propofol, and I have to say that as a working mother of two...

getting to take a drug-induced nap for an hour...

was well worth having a news crew up my butt.

When my baby girl was first born,

I would do skin-on-skin contact every day to bond with her.

She shit on my chest.

She shit on my chest.

Where's my confetti at?

I broke up with my last boyfriend because he refused to put it in the back.

I was like, uh, you're an idiot, dude.

Do you realize that if I went on Craigslist and posted tiny Asian female seeking anal, the Internet would crash?

A lot of people also often ask me,

Allie, what on earth do your parents think about your stand-up comedy?

Now, that's a very racially charged question, right?

Like, what they're really asking is, what do your oppressive Asian parents who beat you with the SAT book until your fingers bled from playing the cello think about your butthole-licking jokes?

My older sister is an unemployed lesbian who lives on my mother's property.

So I can do whatever I want.

Yeah. Whatever I want.

I could take a shit on this stage right now, and my mom would be like, you bring so much honor to our family.

I am so proud of you, my golden child.

And then a lot of people also seem to wonder,

Allie, now that you have a daughter, are you going to tone it down?

Here's the thing.

Just because you became a parent doesn't mean you grew up.

Yeah.

Bro-y dudes become bro-y dads.

I'm the same piece of shit that I always was before I became a mom.

Now just with more responsibility, and I'm barely rising to the occasion.