Liss Pereira: Reteniendo Liquidos (2019) - full transcript

A NETFLIX ORIGINAL COMEDY SPECIAL

Get ready, be prepared...

Liss Pereira is coming.

Good evening!

Good...

Good evening.

I'm very happy to have you here tonight.

I'm happy you are all gathered here,
and that you're all connected out there.

I'm especially happy that
you're all witnessing I scored.

Because this isn't just like,
"Oh, we scored." No.

No, darling, this is my decision.



This is an arrangement
between my biological clock and me.

It was planned, and boom, it happened.

And don't laugh too loud, gentlemen.

Because that woman sitting next to you

has plans too.

She has choices she's made,
it's been decided.

While you, sir, are thinking,
"Could she be the one?"

Oh, darling...

This woman's decision has been made.

She's already weighed it, measured it,
tested the soil, has blueprints,

She's given an advanced payment.

This woman has already decided for you.

What you think is a relationship
is actually a schemed plan for the future.

It doesn't sound good.



But that's the way we are.

The problem is,
we're not used to telling the truth.

Right? And there are many truths, kinds
of truths, shades of truths, and so on.

But there are uncomfortable truths
that we shouldn't tell,

because it's pretty.
I think there are beautiful lies.

Such as makeup,

such as girdles.

It's a fair, lovely
and necessary illusion.

Every girl that's worn shapewear
knows it's nice

to wear them
and see how people look at you.

We're happy wearing it,
until someone wants to greet you.

You're like, "Oh, my God.

He can say hi, but not hug me,
he can say hi, but not touch me."

Us women especially have many lies,
and they're lovely lies,

because in favor of modesty
and aesthetics,

we have lots of lies.

Well, I can't generalize.
Or they'll complain...

Almost all of us women...

lie.

Not all of us, some.

Some women, for example,
the first time we sleep with that man...

This is a common lie.

The first time we sleep with that man,
some women,

we've gotten up five minutes earlier.

We go to the bathroom,
wet some toilet paper...

Toothpaste on our finger.

You woke me up!

Yes, I wake up like this...

It's...

it's a beautiful lie.

And you thought we woke up
looking like that?

That when we go and pee
in the bedroom's private bathroom,

we turn on the faucet
so you can't hear us measure...

the force of our pee stream?

That habit is anti-ecological.
All right...

We tell lies.

But it's okay too. The thing is...

we get used to some lies
and they condition us.

Us women are very used to denying
our nature, to denying we are human,

that we're dirty too.

That we're imperfect. That we have
things that hang from us too.

Even if it's hard to admit. Right?

We are perverts.

Especially in a group,
you don't know what that is.

What changes in us isn't that we go
from being perverts to not being perverts.

No, we are always perverts.

But when we grow up, like me,
into a serious and respectable woman,

we are perverts in a different way,
we desire with good intentions.

We say, "Oh, love...

God bless you, my darling."

We see Maluma, for we all see Maluma,
even if we don't like how he dresses,

with dirty eyes.

So you wish him well.

"Maluma, baby,

may the blessings of the Virgin
of Guadalupe be upon you, love."

Now we are...

We are different.

I noticed...

I was ready for fertility and was now
a serious respectable woman

during this World Cup.

I've always liked soccer, I've always
collected the World Cup stickers

and albums of the players.

And I always wanted Italy or France
in the finals. I'd lick them harder.

I'd stick them with all my might,
son of a gun.

And this World Cup, I found myself
spitting more saliva, but for Falcao.

I'd say, "Ooh, this Falcao, so reliable,
so responsible, so...

A guy who's worked since he was
a little boy, who has savings...

Without vices, without friends,

such a good role model,
so ethical and moral, so...

Ooh, Falcao!"

We... are dirty.

We are perverted, we also have desires.

We may be used to covering them up,

and focus on them differently,
but we have desires too, sometimes filthy.

And sometimes, straightforward.

Us women ask for it too.

Us women have urges too.

Us women score too.

In fact when you say,
"Oh, I got her, I scored..."

"Yes, love, have some love."

"So you scored, darling?"

I mean, I was there, that's all.
I didn't do anything else.

"You scored? My cute baby?"

"You... did me?"

But it's me who's been nearly six months
with a handful of corn...

showing you the way.

"Come, chick, come.

This way, this way, come rooster...
Follow the yellow line."

Sorry, I apologize,
I know men suffer a lot at this point.

Look at this man here,

he's traumatizing me.
He came with his son.

He brought his son and is showing him
how hard it is to be a man.

I see misty glasses.

I see sweaty bald heads, I see...

I see pain in your fragile male eyes.

I know that being a man is hard,
and your life in general is very hard.

I know that every time you go on vacation,

wearing beach clothes, uncovered,

you think twice before posting
a picture on Instagram, you say,

"I want to share the scenery,

but I know women open our profile
to zoom in on our package."

I know, I know that being a man
is very hard.

I know that when you're going to get
on a public bus and it's crowded,

what you think is,
"Oh, I'm late for work.

But I'm sure that bus
is full of perverted women

willing to rub their tits against me."

It happens to you, right?

I know, being a man is hard, that's why
my mission is to help you, gentlemen.

I want to help you.

I... I mean it.

I want to help you.
How can you identify you've been used?

That that lovely body of yours

was defiled by an evil woman?

How do you identify, mister,
that they lured you with corn?

There's this test that's, well,
predictable if you may, but it works.

Listen, if the first time you're going
to consummate pure and true love...

with this woman,

the very first time, a working day,
a day when offices are open,

a Tuesday.

Happy Tuesday, okay?

You're going to consummate love
with this woman.

And when you get to the point
when you open this beautiful package

of female sensuality,

you find this woman
is wearing perfectly matching

panties and bra.

Oh, baby, no.

You don't do that,
least of all on a Tuesday, no.

That woman wasn't caught in the moment,
she did know what was coming.

She's not a woman who thinks,
"Oh, I couldn't control myself." No, baby.

It was schemed, planned, strategized.

She summoned a council
of girlfriends, minutes were taken.

It was signed, approved and sealed.

That panties and bra outfit

is from an aunt's catalog.
We've been paying for it for 2 months.

Sorry, but...

it's true.

We're stuck on the idea they don't get us.
How can they with all those lies?

I want to help you.

I know you suffer, gentlemen.

Listen...

Some truths that could be useful to you.

If you only had access
to this place all women have,

where you find most of our secrets...

If you only had access
to our lingerie drawer.

Those women laugh because they know

that's where we keep everything
we don't want you to find.

It has our passport, the dollars
we stole from the road trip,

hidden in some pantyhose.

It has...

the battery powered digital ex...

The 500 Dildo Baggins,
Black Mamba edition, everything's there.

Guys, if you open that lingerie drawer,

you'll find one of the answers
to our secrets.

The first one: Why can't we wear
matching panties and bra every day?

It's impossible, it's pure mathematics,
it's numbers, equivalencies.

You open that lingerie drawer
and you find that every woman

has four bras and 75 pairs of panties.

In every color, every size,

from every occasion, even their prom
panties signed by every male classmate.

That's how it is.

If you opened that drawer, you'd find out

that for all women,
that drawer always comes...

To come is a verb, hey.

Okay... squeeze, tighten, grip, crush.

And I'm the fertile one?

If you open that lingerie drawer,
you'll find that drawer...

...always comes...

with a foolproof secret. In her drawer,
every woman keeps at least one of these...

Every woman, regardless of social class,
nationality, age, it doesn't matter.

Every woman keeps in it...

a ragged old pair of panties.

A nasty pair of panties, hideous, ugly...

But that feels good, really good.

That perfect pair of panties.

We don't know if it's cotton,
lycra or what.

It simply doesn't make us sweat,
it doesn't cling, wedge.

Those perfect ergonomic panties
that don't make bulk,

don't split the butt,
don't show marks.

Those ugly panties.

Ideal in all weather.
They even have a ventilation shaft.

Those ugly panties
that have overcome everything.

They have a print, but some flowers
are now withered and discolored.

Those ugly panties are even interactive,
for when you're bored,

you pull on that loose elastic

and start pulling elastic threads.

Those ugly panties that bring
emotional comfort, that are a friend.

Maybe some of you men haven't seen
one or know what I'm talking about.

For sometimes,
when you walk out that door...

we grab those panties and say,
"Come, let's spend the afternoon together.

I need you!

I gained four pounds, I need you."

Listen, gentlemen,

those ugly panties are powerful,
they're magical.

Those ugly old panties are symbolic.

If you have the immense fortune
of running across ugly panties

in your path to love...

Don't be stupid.

Don't waste the opportunity.
Get smart, wisen up, man.

If you, sir, the first time you're going
to consummate love with a woman,

pure and true love,

find that this woman shows up
with an ugly pair of panties...

Don't discredit her, don't discriminate.
Don't think, "What a slob, who doesn't..."

No, don't, don't be stupid, no.

Wisen up!

Those ugly panties,
what do they mean, mister?

That that woman was caught in the moment,
she didn't know how to restrain herself.

She couldn't hold on any longer.

That you, sir,
are a delicious, irresistible thing,

and for you, she's betraying
all of us women and herself.

That woman...

That woman...

is a woman who said,

"I want to drink tequila but be smart.
So how do we shield ourselves?"

She wore those ugly panties
as a contraceptive method.

We all have a pair.

We all do. In fact,
some women have more than one pair.

In fact, some women...

wear them when they're going
to shoot something important.

As a good luck charm.

It's true, that's the way we are.

And now, we're at a point in history where
they tell us we should change who we are.

We have to be strong, indestructible,
super strong, empowered,

nothing hurts me, I don't want anything
from the world, the world wants me.

And this is an invitation to stay calm.

Let's calm down.

These are times
when we're so aggressive.

And listen, there are lies we believe,
lies that don't work for us.

Lies that are harmful.

Generalizations,
like saying all men are bad.

Or all women are crazy.

Honestly, I don't believe that.
I don't like it.

We repeat it to ourselves.

Throughout our lives, we retain
in our bodies and our hearts

all the lies we aren't willing to change
or aren't willing to accept.

Things we don't accept
about ourselves, we retain.

iuIt turns into cellulite,
it turns into fat, bulky stomachs.

It becomes our fourth tit.

Anything we don't overcome...

we retain it, it's harmful.

I believe this.

For example, I think men are happier

when it comes to self-esteem,
self-respect.

I think men are happier, or at least
are more at peace, with their bodies.

Why? They love themselves.

They lie to themselves.

Don't they?

They are happier.

Listen, I've researched this for years,

I've always worked with men,
surrounded myself by men,

all of whom were my friends.

Always.

And I never, ever,
saw a man tell another man,

"Hey, Carlos, do you think Ramiro's ass
is natural or is it plastic?"

Never.

They don't waste time on that.

They don't compare themselves
to others as we do.

I've never seen a man in a mall saying,
"Hey, Carlos.

He's wearing
the same trousers as me.

Whose ass looks bigger, his or mine?"

Never, ever.

That's the kind of thing
that makes men happier,

for it comes from the way we were raised.

We see that, since we were little, girls
and boys are raised differently, right?

They let boys be.

Since he was little,
he's at peace with his body. He learns.

He's at that stage of his life,
around five,

discovering his body, his parts,
his nudity.

And the kid is calm, relaxed,
he explores himself.

"The flowers!"

"Now I've learned: A, E, I, O, U."

No one gives him a hard time,
no one scolds him, no one traumatizes him.

We raise girls differently, right?
This is the girl.

Same stage in life, exploring her body,
her nudity, her parts.

She's there. "You can find me..."

Liss Johanna!

"Look, honey, look at this dirty child."

"Keep your hands away.

Wash those panties
with holy water, then kneel and pray."

The girl goes...

"So you can't touch yourself there."

So they fuck us up.

But not the boy,
they let him be since he's little.

That's why the brat
is the owner of his body.

The boy says, "This is mine,
and I like it since it's mine.

That's why I baptize it Optimus Prime."

"Pegasus." Right?

"Toretto...

Oliver Atom."

"Slow, but some day, some day."

Not girls.

Us girls aren't even allowed

to call it the way the biology books
teach us to call it.

It's too strong a word for a girl.

Women aren't that way.

We have to call it "our flower."

"The little house."

"The butterfly.
No worm, only a little butterfly."

In my house, we had to call it
"the cornet."

Luckily, I grew up and became
a serious, mature woman,

who makes her own decisions.
And now I call it "the tweedledoo."

But really...

Men are happier.

They love themselves more,
they show themselves more love every day.

And it's like a relationship,
you have to nurture it.

Why wouldn't men be happier?

We all have that moment

when we step out of the shower naked
and look at ourselves in the mirror.

Why wouldn't men be happier?

That first moment of the day,
a women's first greeting to herself is:

Oh, no.

This is horrible.

Maybe it's the steam.

Oh, no, I don't have a boiler.

Oh, no, I look so ugly...

I'm a wreck, no.

Well, no...

Why did I have eye surgery? No.

Ooh, having kids definitely
makes us look like shit.

But I don't have any kids.

Ooh, no, look at that, look at that fat,

look at the trousers,
worn away in the middle.

Look at that, it's all squishy.
No, look... okay.

Look at this, no.

I don't have two anymore, I have four.
Look at these other two.

This is awful.

Six, just look.

Pereira the udder, I mean...

This is terrible, just look at this.

I have cellulite.

Oh, this is awful.

No.

No, just look at this fin.

I look like a turtle...

Oh, now I see why they call them
turtlenecks.

Look at this flaccidity,
look at these wrinkles.

This is...

No!

One of my nostrils
is bigger than the other.

Of course, that's why
I look fat in pictures.

No, look at this, look at these wrinkles.
Look at... no, it looks like an accordion.

Just look at this.

This is so crappy.

Look at this shit... no.

I can't wave goodbye anymore,
I have to say, "Bye."

No...

One of my tits is cross-eyed!

And after all that,
we go and pick what we're going to wear.

That explains the phrase
"I have nothing to wear."

That monster looking in the mirror?
There's nothing in the closet.

Why wouldn't men be happier?

When a man's first hello to the mirror is,

"Ooh, daddy boy!

You're a treat, huh?

Boy, what is all this?

Ramiro, brother!

You're looking better every day, Ramiro.

Ruling prom 98.

What's this, Ramiro? Just look at that.
Look, what did I tell you, man?

Two days in the gym and look...
a six pack.

Fit.

Ooh, Ramiro, you're looking good,
look at that.

Ramiro, man...

You're good as new. I mean I'm straight,

but me?

I'd do you.

You're a hottie, Ramiro, a hottie.

Just look at this, man.

I'm a stud, just look.

What wrinkles?

Those are expression lines.

Of a man who expresses himself,
feels, cries, laughs.

Ramiro, the sensitive man.

This looks good, Ramiro, look at this.

A receding hairline? It's barely there.

It hardly shows, and if it does,
we'll comb it, man.

No.

No, look at that, gray hairs?
Don't they look great on me?

They give me an elegant look.

They give me
a sexy international spy look.

Miro...

Ra...

Miro.

Great, very good, Ramiro."

They see themselves in such a way.

They photoshop themselves just by looking.

They're happier.

Why wouldn't men be happier

if they have pleasant contact
with their bodies all day?

It's true, what one tells oneself
has power.

And men reaffirm their self-esteem
every day, from the moment they wake up.

They say hi to it.
"Good morning, how are you?"

"Good morning, what's up?"

They ask for its opinion. "Okay, man,
red jacket, move to the right.

Pink shirt, move to the left.

Boring gray sweater?

Poke my eye."

Every day,

they nourish that positive relationship.

Every day they ask, "Are you there, man?
You're really something!" Every day!

Men have a good relationship with him.

They play with him. So much so, I dare
you to deny it, men here and up there.

Deny this fact.

You've all done it, gentlemen.

And if you haven't done it, you will.

But every man,
at least once in his lifetime,

has hidden it
to see how he'd look as a woman.

Every single man.

Every one of you.

We don't have
a good relationship with her.

We don't even call her
by a nice name, right?

We've lied so much,
and society has too.

Now in advertising,
they call our parts "V-zone."

"V."

Ergonomically, this is impossible
for human reproduction.

If they're gonna use a letter,
the one who named it

should've at least seen one.
This shape isn't...

If you're using a letter,
use one that matches better. Call it...

"the W zone."

And warn us. In our twenties,
it's a Comic Sans font "W"...

size 12.

At thirty, it's an Arial 14 "W."

And after giving birth, it's probably
a Times New Roman bold 43.

It's...

We don't... we don't have
a good relationship with her.

She's there, always set aside.

We never, ever get in touch with her.

We treat her as that neighbor lady
that lives on the first floor.

We know she's there. Sometimes,
when we walk by, it smells like breakfast.

And noise comes from inside, but...

She's there, quiet, she never bothers us.

And sometimes, the only reason
we remember her,

is once a month,
to give her a good waxing...

hot, of course.

The poor thing has lips.
If she could talk, she would say,

"What's wrong with you, girl?

Why do you do this... shit to me?

It pulls, it...

It's hot wax!

That's no way to treat a friend."

We hurt our bodies bad.

Very bad.

That's how we treat each other sometimes.
We hurt each other bad, really bad.

And in a group, it's worse.

And we have the power of destruction.

All we need to destroy
another woman is one phrase.

To crush a woman's self-esteem,
that's all you need.

That's all.

Listen, I just finished a change.
I lost 30 pounds.

I don't know what for, but...

I lost them.

I changed my lifestyle,

my attitude,

my habits.

And I'd love to tell you, "Yes, I found
a light inside of me, my full potential."

That's bullshit.

When someone submits to what it means

to lose weight, work out,
and all that sacrifice...

it almost never comes from a nice place,

or a place of light.

It comes from a void inside our soul,
from pain, from abandonment, trauma...

From bullying, from...

suffering.

It comes from a woman who walked
to your desk at work...

and told you, "Listen, Liss,

I need to tell you something.

But it's meant with all my love, Liss."

One knows...

it's going to hurt.

Especially when, by her voice,
you can imagine how hot she is.

"Liss, I'm gonna say
something with all my love.

Liss, lately, why did you...

let yourself get so fat?"

You feel very small.
You're all crumpled up there, next to her.

You feel like... You want to cry.

Butyou know you can't,
you're wearing cheap mascara.

You're feeling really bad, you're crushed.

You don't know what to answer.
You want to vent all your rage at her,

but you can't, 'cause you never
take it out on the one who deserves it,

you take it out on the first sucker
that comes your way.

He says, "Hi, Liss, how are you?"

"Fat? Your fat-ass mother!"
But this one...

No, you don't have the courage
to tell her.

One feels fat, with cellulite,
not illuminated,

like in a changing room
in an expensive store...

I can't mention.

One feels bad and wants to destroy her,
but doesn't know how.

The only response
that comes to mind

to preserve the little self-esteem
one has left...

is to stand up tall and strong, and say,

"Aren't you funny?

Girl, I mean...

I don't think I've gained weight.

The thing is,

I suffer from water retention.

So do my mom and aunts,
that's why we all have thick ankles."

And then, we practice everything

we would've told her.

And we feel bad. We want to be mean.
We say, "I'm sick of being nice.

I'm going to be mean."

And we look inside ourselves
for meanness reference, that information.

We're Latin-American.

We're not like Americans,
serial killers, no.

Down here, that's...

We have memorable villains.

We grew up with telenovelas,
with true bad guys.

I love those telenovelas.

I love the villains in old telenovelas.

Those telenovelas before people hashtagged
and complained about everything.

When they could be human.

Those old-time villains...

Those Venezuelan bitches.
I'm from the Colombia-Venezuela border.

And the Venezuelan villain bitch
filled my soul.

I love them.

And not because I value the great work
Venezuelan villains did

am I discrediting
the great work done by...

the queens of villainy,
such as Soraya Montenegro,

your mother.

I admire that Soraya Montenegro character
so much,

because I grew up with her.
I was a little girl.

Very little.

The first time I saw Soraya Montenegro,
I was very little, and I saw her say,

"Shut up, you tramp! What are you doing
touching my husband? Damn lowlife!"

I said, "I love her."

I found my path.

I was just a little girl.

It made me get in trouble at school.
It was my first expulsion.

But Sister Martha deserved it.

One wants to be bad,
one wants to bring out all that meanness.

We want to be like the Venezuelan villain
we grew up with.

We want to be that villain,
a well-constructed bitch.

A villain who, within 3 seconds,
you know is the villain.

She had those pointy shoulder pads,

that stiff larger-than-life hair.

Stiff and immobile.

That villain who went to bed
with makeup and got up with makeup,

because her mascara was afraid to run.

That well-equipped villain.

Just as you grew up seeing Rocky 3

and he set knives on fire
to cauterize a wound...

I think that witch heated up the crayon
to paint her villain eyebrow.

For it's a painted eyebrow, arched,

defined with a perfect angle of spite,
of hatred, revenge.

Every great villain has an arched eyebrow,
throughout history,

in cartoons, movies, anything.

You can tell a great villain
by his eyebrow.

Scar from The Lion King, the eyebrow.

Ursula from The Little Mermaid, right?
The eyebrow.

Donald Trump, he has no eyebrows,
but he's a bastard.

Every one of them. We sometimes
wanna be the Venezuelan villain

in old telenovelas.

Be her spirit incarnated,

and answer to this person
what we would've liked to tell her

in that moment of vulnerability
and destruction of our little self-esteem.

We'd run into her in other conditions,

in a dark alley, a Monday holiday, alone.

Her, wearing heels,
her nails just painted...

defenseless.

And confront her in the Venezuelan villain
version of ourselves and say:

"Listen, damn bastard.

You know what? Horrible, disgusting,

nasty, marginal rat?

I hope an arepa truck runs you over.

And when you open your mouth in pain,
because your bones are breaking, bitch,

you eat them and gain 17 pounds
before you die...

so you arrive in Hell with cellulite,
damn witch!

And you know what, you miserable bastard,
you waste of oxygen?

I hope while you agonize
because no ambulance comes to get you...

right at that moment, your mother
arrives at your deathbed.

Your mother,
you insignificant piece of trash!

The same one who last week
was released from the clinic

after a mysterious horse riding accident
left her blind and paralytic!

And while you die slowly,
feeling the cold of death embracing you,

you see your life flashing by in a second.

Right at that second,
your mom comes to you,

dragging along,
with the only toe she can move.

And with the last thread of strength
she has left...

on your deathbed, you witch,
she looks you in the eye

with the only eye she can...

And looks you in the eye,
you miserable wretch, only to tell you

that your father
isn't your biological father.

That your biological father...

is Nicolás Maduro!"

Haven't you ever thought of that
when someone calls you fat?

Don't get confused, I'm super relaxed.

Just like all of us girls.

Why did I spend so many years alone?
Beats me.

I'm really cool.

One of my flaws?
Maybe that I'm not a jealous girl.

We retain everything we don't overcome.

We retain the grudges we don't confront.

We retain the lies
we tell ourselves and end up believing.

Always.

And, for example, when it comes to love,

we don't have lies,
but rather unrealistic expectations

about romantic relationships.

That's how we were raised,
it isn't our fault either.

We'd like a love as in those movies,
during which we eat ice cream and cry.

We'd like that.

We'd like them to be
true love stories, like,

"Do you want me to tell you my story?
Of course I will.

I was wearing a white dress, immaculate,
carrying a stack of books and glasses.

That's how I am, sensual, showy,
though smart.

I magically tripped
and "feil" with grace, I fell.

This is how I speak,
but it's like falling.

I fell with so much grace
and he was across the street.

He saw me, came to me, picked me up.
We looked into each other's eyes.

And from that day on,
we've been happy forever.

He's the list of priorities, qualities
and marvels I always dreamed of in a man."

Nothing but bullshit.

That's not how it goes.

Most people don't end up with anyone
even close to what they thought.

And we must change a bit.

Just as we change in so many aspects,
we must change our expectations too.

Am I right?

We've changed, us men...

Men have changed.
Us women have changed.

I'm a woman, what else
do I have to do to prove it?

We've changed, and that has been positive.

Right?

This is a time when us women
are stronger, self-sufficient.

We're tough, we fight for causes,
other women protest for us, and all that.

I think it's great.

But we should also recognize
men have also been liberated.

When it comes to feelings,
men are more sensitive now.

Excellent.

They like talking and all that bullshit.

I feel it's great, I mean it,

for men to be more liberated
in what they want.

If you wanna put on slim-fit or skinny
trousers, if they fit, cram inside.

You're free to do it.

If you want to wear nice-colored shirts,
pink ones, great, wear them.

Right? Nowadays, men have barber shops.
Not salons, barber shops, for macho men.

"We go to the barber shop
because we drink whiskey."

Oh, baby.

You go to the salon with your friends,
don't fool yourself.

Besides, you're hairless, what's the use?

"At the barber shop."

It's fine, go, pamper yourself.

So now men want to take better care
of their physical appearance,

they want to put on lotions and all that.

Put them on, but buy them,
you sponges.

Nothing...

makes us angrier...

Nothing makes us angrier...

than that really expensive
eye contour lotion...

which we buy in installments,
when we do the math and think,

"Okay, it costs this much, but if we
divide it by 12 month installments,

it's 8,000 pesos...

Two dollars a month for my beauty."

So we buy it and apply it
as they tell you, like this...

We put it on really carefully.

And this metrosexual cow comes along...

"What did you say this is for?"

There are homicides,

passion crimes over that lotion.

We have a different idea about true love.

We're not told the complete story.

Right? They tell us
we'll love each other forever.

Well, in a heterosexual case, love a man.

And a stable relationship with a man

includes many unpleasant things.

Love, when a man is in love
and gets comfortable around us,

no one told us about that.

No one told us that they'd say,
"Honey, pull my finger."

"What for, darling?" No one!

No one warned us about the rancid farting.

No one warned us about the pranks.

No warning about,
"Did I get a call from Mr. Liu?"

- "Mr. Liu?"
- "He rubs against you."

No one!

That's a man in love,
a happy, relaxed man.

He treats you that way,
that is what love is.

We were told love is a man that comes home
every day with roses and candy.

Firstly, I have no interest in that.
I have rhinitis, it screws me.

So, we start growing up.

We fantasize about Falcao.

We value different things.

A man who arrives
with a bunch of bananas,

who says, "Honey, you were complaining
about your knee pain. Here.

Bananas have potassium, that helps."

That's nice, it's true love.

I know it's not what they told us,
but it's real.

And long relationships have sad moments.

They obviously wear away,
especially in everyday life.

Sex is one of the first to suffer

in a stable, long-lasting,
happy relationship.

I know that when the relationship began,
every night that couple's bed sounded...

I know...

I know that changes, it's inevitable.

They say things don't change?
That changes.

I know that, as years go by, in a stable,
long-lasting and happy relationship

the wiki-wiki comes along once...

twice a month.

If one of the two has a birthday.
If not, forget about it.

And besides, it's kind of...

"Sandra...

Wiki?

The Internet is down."

"What's today?"

"Yes."

Wiki.

Wiki.

Wiki, wiki.

"Ooh, what are you doing to me today?"
Wiki.

"One light is gone,
I guess someone took it."

Wiki, wiki.

"Yes, right." Wiki.

Wiki, wiki, wiki.

They change, things change.

They cool off.

Many friends with stable,
long-lasting relationships tell me,

"Men have changed so much.

Now the problem isn't
not giving it to them.

One gives but it isn't received."

But if that happens, girl, wisen up!

We're in the pharmacological
technology era.

Pharmaceutical.

Pharmacy stuff.

A quarter of a pill, you cut it in four,

crush it and put it in his eggs
or somehow disguise it.

You disguise it in something.

A quarter pill of Viagra can save...

the love.

You take it and...
"Look, love, breakfast in bed."

The guy says, "But, Sandra,

why are these eggs blue?"

"No, honey, it's organic cilantro.

Sascha Fitness recommended it."

Wisen up!

Fight for what you want.

That's how it is.

True love stories don't start
the way they said they'd start,

or end the way we were told.
They never spoke about the end.

They said we had
to stay together all our lives.

That we had to get to know each other.
Listen, love...

I'm passionate about it.
I really like it.

I like talking about love. It's important
to talk about loving ourselves,

loving outward, sideways,
inside and everywhere.

I'm full of love,
I want to share the love.

I've asked many people I consider
to have a long-lasting,

nice, good, long-lasting relationship.

And I've asked them this.

Each of them, the same question:

"What keeps you...

in love for so many years?"

And I never get...

Hollywood-movie answers,
it's more like...

"Darling...

What...

What keeps me...?

Darling, me?

Let's say...

in love...

with that man?

What could it be?

Girl, well...

He is...

What do you think it could be?

Darling, he's a very...

As all people are, girl...

He has his defects, his flaws, his...

The only one who's perfect
is Our Lord, honey.

He has some flaws, he's...

He's bad-tempered.

Unbearably bad-tempered, that man...

He carries a dark aura
in that heart, girl.

He's bitter all the time.

He fights with himself.
He opens the fridge, slams it,

doesn't know what he went for,
gets mad at me.

Darling, I try to pay for a tour
for our family vacations.

'Why did we come to the seaside?
I don't like the ocean, Alicia.'

'Tell the kids
not to laugh so loud, Alicia!'

It's plain bitterness, negative energy.

He's a man you can't even tell
to bring you cilantro, girl.

It gets home withered, darling.

Everything makes him cranky, girl.
And he's a stingy man, darling, so stingy.

Since he retired,
all he does is roll coin rolls.

He wants to pay everything
with them, honey.

The other day, we went to a restaurant.

Every time I go out with him,
I suffer, I don't enjoy it.

All I do is think,
'God, how will he embarass me this time?'

I know he shouldn't ask for soft food,
he'll spit it at me. I need to take note.

He's rude.
This is how he calls the waiters.

He treats them badly, honey.

He says, 'If tips are voluntary,
I won't voluntarily give him shit!'

Oh, God! By the nails on the cross
Our Lord carried to the Calvary.

Lord, what am I paying for?

But he's such a good dad.

But that...
that's more than enough for me.:

"Darling..."

This is someone else's case,

but the intention is to give you
a dynamic show,

to everyone, you at home too.

You might say, "Ooh, she moves so much,
she changes so much."

Changing voices is impossible,

the comedian has one,
maybe two female voices, no more.

Okay then, the question...

"Can you repeat the question, darling?

What keeps me in love with this man?

What could I answer
to help you with your homework, darling?

Well, he's...

He is...

He's...

Well, he's..."

Not you.

"He's my fat hairy-ass boy, darling.

He has such a matted ass.

Such dense, thick hair.

A fat, hairy-ass boy.

I shouldn't complain,
I have trouble sleeping,

At least I have something
to practice my braids on and stuff.

I have somewhere to put my beads.

He has such a hairy ass.

Lactose intolerant, honey,

but he loves his nightly glass of milk.

So it starts about 11:00.

It's like a guerrilla ambush.

It's like... He wakes himself up,
startled. 'Oh, God!

Has that woman's show finished?
I fell asleep.'

'No, it's almost over.'

But he's so funny, he makes me laugh,
I guess that's it."

Same voice, but...

another case.

Dynamism... ooh!

Okay...

"Honey...

What keeps me...?
What you see there, that's what you get.

He doesn't bother you at all, honey.

He's good. He comes home, warms his meal.
He says hi if we have company.

He comes in, lies down,
washes his clothes and mine...

He helps a lot.

He doesn't bother me a bit.

He's very kind, like a brother to me.

And those things the sexologists say?
No, honey...

'Ooh, that man, he must be fierce in bed.'

'What kind of animal is your husband?'

No, darling, not fierce.

He's more like a stray kitten, he's...

He's grateful. He'll eat whatever scraps
you throw at him. He's...

Yes, girl, yes.

And that thing sexologists say, right?

They ask, 'Does your man get you
those microorganisms...'

I think he doesn't.

Well, once it was
our silver wedding anniversary

and I did start to feel, honey,
this current on my knee.

And I said, 'Oh, my God!

My first microorganism!

We scored, Alicia, we scored!

Saint Martha, I offer you my prayers.

But, please, let it be multiple.'

And there I was, waiting.

But no, honey, it was my knee.
I busted my knee.

I had surgery, and I'm in recovery.

Sexologists and couple's therapists say,

'Oh, your husband is so well endowed.

It's a mallet,

a mastodon tusk.'

And so on.

'It's a tool. It's a power hammer...'

No, darling, no.

No, honey, he's...

Just picture a gummy worm."

Thank you very much!

Fertilizing ray!

Thank you very much!

Thank you!

I'd bow, but...

Thank you very much, goodnight! Thanks!