Chapter 9 Frankie Hogan’s Youtube Video
FRANKIE HOGAN’S YOUTUBE VIDEO
(Which Owen Brodie Can’t Stop Watching)
“I love my parents. They’re so sweet. My mother’s from Australia, and my dad’s a Kentucky boy who moved to Florida, so when I was a little kid in Tampa, I was very confused about how to speak English.
Apparently when I first started going to daycare, I was like, ‘Butter my butt and call me a biscuit! I’m stahvin’!
Can I get a chokkie biccy after I go to the torlet? Fair dinkum, y’all!’
“Can’t say that I’ve gotten any less confused about how to speak English, but I’ve gotten a lot better at hiding my confusion.
This is true about absolutely everything in life, by the way.
I have literally no idea how to live like an adult most of the time, but I’ve gotten really good at acting like I know everything.
“My mother, on the other hand, knows exactly everything about how I should be doing things. Like for my stand-up act, for instance. I don’t know if people who grow up to be brain surgeons or astronauts always have people saying to them, ‘Oh, you know what you should do when you’re operating on someone’s brain?
You should use toothpicks!’ Or ‘I had this hilarious thing happen to me the other day, and you should use it the next time you go to the moon!’
“But when you’re a stand-up comic, you get a lot of people telling you about all the funny things you should be talking about in your act, and my mum has sent me approximately nine thousand emails filled with what she considers to be joke material.
So I thought I’d share a small sample of some of my notes on her suggestions with you… ”
Frankie pulls a little notebook out from her back pocket, opens it up, clears her throat, and starts speaking in her mother’s Australian accent.
“Y’know how when ya go to Stahbucks to order coffee and they ask for your name to write on the cup? What if you told them your name was You Arsehole? Then when your order is up they’d have to call out, ‘Grande Blonde Vanilla Latte for You Arsehole!’
“How about a bit about laundry baskets? Y’know how no matter how big your laundry basket is, it always fills up faster than you can do the wash?
Why can’t my bank account keep refilling as fast as my laundry basket?
Why is it that the laundry basket suddenly gets filled up again every time I ask your dad to fold his laundry and put it away?
What did people used to use chairs for in their bedrooms before there were clothes that aren’t dirty enough for the laundry basket and not clean enough for the closet? ”
She doesn’t get the laughs that she deserves from that bit, so she closes the notebook and returns it to her back pocket.
She places the mic on the stand and picks up the ukulele from the stool next to her.
“Speaking of laundry, did any women here have a real orgasm while they were in high school? Can I see a show of hands?…You, ma’am?
And was it that hand that gave you the orgasm or another person?
…Yeah, that’s what I thought. I too experienced exactly no orgasms while making out with guys in high school, but when I was seventeen, I had a boyfriend who was very sweet.
We’ll call him Justin. Because that was his name.
He was my third Justin. This is a little song I wrote about Justin Number Three. ”
She strums the ukulele a few times and then puts it down when she sings like Taylor Swift—sort of.
“I’m so glad you tried so hard to make me
Feel good with your fingers while you kissed me
Most guys just squeezed my boobs, but you—
You always tried to do that thing
I’m just not sure what you were trying for…
But I appreciate the effort
Because you almost made come once
And I remember how every time you jizzed your pants
You asked, ‘Did you come?’
And I was like, ‘I think so!’
But I didn’t
But I’m still grateful anyway.”
She strums the ukulele again.
“That’s it. That’s the whole song. I’m Frankie Hogan—thank you so much.”