Your wife’s quite beautiful. You saw an old photo. Yeah, I’m kidding, I know. I married a petite,
young, beautiful thing. Yeah.
She was eventually eaten by the woman I live with now. (à la Fat Albert):
Hey, hey, hey! You’re just flat-out saying
your wife’s overweight. Oh, no, no, no, no, no. She’s under-tall. Have you ever had
a weight problem? Only when she sat on me.
Will you…? Aah! Get off of me! Actually, it’s more like this: (imitating an echo)
Hello? …o…o…o… It’s dark in here!
…here…ere…ere… I found your keys!
…keys…keys…keys… I am not kidding. Then she farted and
unlocked the car doors. What does your wife think
when you do things like this? I don’t care. Well, I know you care
enough about your wife to take her on some
of these trips.
Oh, yeah. Yeah, she loves
going on these trips. I know she loves
window shopping. Not in Amsterdam, she didn’t. (cackles) Ha! Because in Amsterdam, there’s hookers in the windows! I love that city. Did you
know that in Amsterdam, you can legally
purchase marijuana? I, uh… yeah… I did know that. Do you know where?
Coffeehouses. Coffeehouses! It’s my favorite
coffee place ever! I’d like a latte and a doobie. And 19 dozen donuts,
thank you. (laughter) (applause) Not long after that,
we went to the UK. You enjoyed it there.
Yeah. Did you like the
city of London? I don’t know,
I got confused one day standing in our hotel lobby.
Why? Some big old black guy
walked in to me and started speaking English
with a British accent. I thought I was in
the Twilight Zone. I swear, some big old black guy
walks up to me and goes, (posh British accent):
“Oh, good afternoon, sir!” I’m like, who the hell is making
you talk? What the hell?