I want, you know, my bedroom to be “dungeon
of sex.” The living room is like, “sex… on wheels.” And the kitchen is “eat me some sex.” A Comcast customer found out a company technician
named the master bedroom cable box “the f palace.” And I’m like, what’s the problem here? Okay? Everyone’s getting their panties in a bunch
and I’m like, hold the phone. Thank god it’s not the cobweb dome… Like… it could be worse. When someone walks into my apartment, I would
dream and I would pray that they would walk into my bedroom and go, “The fuck palace,
absolutely. This girl is swinging it into dicks.” Pleasure cabana! You know, I want it to be in there. And they’re like, “dicks, dicks, dicks, dicks.” I want people to always see me and make an
assumption, “That’s a sex queen. That girl sees anal beads and is not afraid. She goes, ‘you know what, I’ll try it?!?'” You only live once. YOLO. Mommy horny. I am single.