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 SOAPBOX - LISA LAMPANELLI gets the last word
We tried to tame her, but she bitch-slapped us
Some people have said I’ve started to develop a strong gay following, but when I hear that, I assume they mean dykes, because the man homos that come to my shows are so weak, they cry when their boyfriend gets up to take a piss. Although I can understand why you queers cry when your S.O. goes to the bathroom. In your community, you bastards cheat every time you go to the shitter. I can get away with insulting gay women ’cause they’re too busy staring at my twat to get insulted.
But I guess you fags must be like me, since here I am in your homo rag. And thanks for trying to hide me here on the back page. It’s just like you people to be all about the back side.
I used to be a journalist, actually. I wrote for Rolling Stone for like, 10 years. But I’ll never understand you gay media types. Once I talked with a cornholing journalist in Florida whose voice was so queer that the second he started interviewing me I had glitter all over my phone. That’s the last time I talk to that ass pirate.
I’ve actually learned a lot about you people, thanks to Gay Wendell, the guy who opens for me when I tour. But it’s not just when I’m on the road. I always have a gay guy in tow. It’s better than having my toe in a gay guy.
I don’t understand these people that don’t like you gays. But really, they’re such big cowards. I bet if me and my homo went up to them, and he was in drag, they’d probably want him. Don’t you think all those Klan people or those racist people who hate homos, they just wanna get a little cornhole love?
Some people are surprised that gays like to be insulted by me as much as they do. I think it’s that basically gay people hate themselves as much as I do—since we’re both abominations against god and man—so I insult them and they give me money. It’s the circle of life. Plus, I’m a living fulfillment of gay men’s fantasies: I get paid to say whatever I want, I bang black men, and my clothes look fantastic.
I know some of you queens can be rather bitchy yourself—quick with the insults and put-downs, thinking you’re being all like me, since we know you want to be me. I know this is true because I get asked for advice on how to do what I do. I say when all else fails, throw the “cunt” card. It works every time. And how do you know if you’ve gone too far? Obviously I don’t know, because I just said "cunt card."
But you know, what’s weird, though, is that even though I’m known for insulting people and lovin’ me some chocolate daddies, now I’ve got a boyfriend. I jumped off the Amistad and he’s white! He was my first cute white boy since high school. I don’t know what happened but a year ago he turned my head and I couldn’t stop picking at the scab until he finally came around and bled. I was like, "This is my fucking project for 2007."
No, it wasn’t my two movies that came out, it wasn’t the William Shatner roast, it wasn’t my Dirty Girl CD, or the special that was number four on Comedy Central’s ratings ever for a special by a stand-up comic, no!
It was getting a fucking pothead with no checking account to think I’m the shit, just because he’s cute! What is wrong with me? He’s adorable, but he’s like Mr. Big from Sex And The City—without the house, the car, the driver, the job, the self-esteem. That’s him. So basically I’ve been working at that for…let’s see…a year and two days from the day I met him he finally laid down, he surrendered, and says, “OK, already. I’ll be your boyfriend.”
So when I get asked for relationship advice, that’s what I say you gotta do: beat ’em in to submission.
We dated on and off for the last year and drove me fucking insane with his fear of commitment. So guess what I did? Cut him off. For 60 days. All he needed was 30 to get the sappy email of how much he missed me and he’d do anything to gain my fucking confidence.
It just proves that when you got the right pussy, you can get what you want. The pussy talks, muthafucker! My pussy has teeth, I’ll bite that shit off!
Maybe if we get married we’ll do it right in the middle of a gay bar or pride parade or something, just to throw it in your faces, faggots.
But hey, I’m all about gay marriage. I would legalize gay marriage if I was president, but then I’d also outlaw gay divorces, ’cause look what you’re bucking for, you idiots. You can fuck and not get married. You don’t have some bitch screaming at you, “Where’s the ring?” Enjoy your freedom you fuckin’ faggots! That’s what comes with cornholin’! Get it right!
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