Steve Rannazzisi: Breaking Dad

Focus. Relax.

Focus. Come on.

Nothing else is bothering you. There's no one else here.

Mommy, I'm peeing!

Just you and the audience.

Hot wife or supportive wife?

I just have to concentrate.

- Whatever. - Here we go, buddy.

It's go time.

Ugh!

All right.

How about a "good luck"?

What do you think?

Oh!

Oh-ho!

Oh, you're evil.

Ladies and gentlemen, please help me welcome

the one and only Mr. Steve Rannazzisi!

Thank you very much, Boston.

Thank you very, very, very much.

How's everybody doing up there?

You guys good?

Excellent.

Excellent.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you guys very much.

Thank you. Thanks for coming out.

Lot of couples I see in the front row.

Date-night people.

Weekend date nights.

You guys are pros. Good job.

You did it right. You got dressed up.

You took her out on a weekend.

Probably sweating right now,

wishing you were at home.

But you did the right thing. You're professionals.

Weekday date-night people,

those are the couples that I like to hang out with.

You get to see the greatest couples in the world

on the weekdays,

couples who hate each other.

The old, grizzled veterans.

I love it. It's my favorite thing to do.

I just watch them.

They just sit there and stare at each other like,

"Oh. Isn't this great?

I love you."

Now modern technology's changed that, though.

Now they have, like, other things to do.

Like, the waiter will come over,

take their order, then walk away.

He pulls out his phone.

He starts playing Candy Crush with the sound on.

She's got Fifty Shades of Grey on an e-book, reading it.

She's, "Mm, this is interesting."

We had a date night not too long ago.

It was a great, great date night.

Great dinner. Good conversation.

Went home. We were having sex with each other.

And--that's not the funny part.

That's normal. That's what we do.

Date nights for married people is scheduled sex.

That's really what it is.

So we were doing it,

and it was one of those sexual sessions

where, in the middle,

I, like, had this out-of-body experience

where I was, like, talking to myself,

and I was like, "Dude, you're doing really good right now.

Like, she is super into this."

Like, it's almost like a pitcher pitching a perfect game.

I was like, "All right, don't talk to yourself.

"Don't this up.

Just stay on target."

You know, I thought that the chicken parm I ate for dinner

would have slowed me down.

It didn't, guys. It carb-loaded me.

It pushed me further.

Then we were done.

We high-five each other, like we do.

"Yeah. Good job."

Went to bed.

And then in the middle of the night, I was like--

I had that feeling of, "I want to do that again."

Like, I think that I can accomplish

that level of joy again.

So I was like, "All right."

I tap my wife on the shoulder. "Babe! Babe!"

She wakes up. She's like, "What?

What is it? The kids?"

And I was like, "Nah. It's this dick!"

She was like, "What?"

And I was like, "Oh"-- it's the first time.

I was like, "Oh, maybe she's not as excited about this dick

as I am."

So I was like, "Eh! What about this dick?"

And she's like, "We did it. It was great.

"Thank you very much. It was so good.

"I'll see you next Wednesday. You're the love of my life.

Thank you."

Then I got a little depressed. I was like, "Oh."

Man. We used to do it multiple times.

I don't know-- why don't we do that anymore?

Like, what slowed us down?

And the only thing I could think of

is, really, just space.

Like, physical space.

We used to live in a 350-square-foot apartment.

We'd just stand and stare at each other.

No other distractions, nothing.

I mean, we slept in a twin bed.

Every night we'd just roll over,

and sometimes I would just be inside of her.

I didn't even know why.

It was like Tetris.

It was like that piece--

"That's where that fits. Okay.

We'll worry about the rest later on."

That was it.

Now we sleep on a California king Tempur-Pedic.

Yeah! We have sex. We're done.

We high-five each other.

I roll over three times.

I'm in my own hemisphere.

I could probably have sex with somebody else

on my side of the bed;

she wouldn't even know about it unless I told her.

That's the Tempur-Pedic commercial I want to see,

by the way.

You know?

that wine glass going up and down.

I want to see one dude just drilling somebody else

where he was like--

"I'm with stupid" T-shirt.

You'd sell a shit-ton of beds that way.

Plus we got two kids.

So if you have kids, you need a big bed.

You do.

Because by 6:00 in the morning,

my shit looks like a Haitian float.

There's, like, ten people hanging on.

Half of them are naked.

Smells like piss everywhere.

There's crumbs of food on the ground.

Speaking of floats

and rafts,

my favorite story from last year

is still the Rob Konrad story.

And maybe some of you know about it, but--

Rob Konrad used to be a professional football player

for a couple of years.

He played for Miami. Then he retired.

And he lives in Florida,

in Miami, with his wife and his kids.

And last year, he was fishing

about ten miles off the shore of Miami,

and as he's fishing-- he's by himself--

a rogue wave comes and knocks him off the boat

and then capsizes the whole boat.

So now this guy's in the middle of the ocean,

6:00 at night, in a life vest.

No boat. No one's around.

So what does this guy do?

He swims nine miles

back to the shore of Miami

in the dark, in the ocean, at night.

Nine miles.

I have no comprehension of what that must have felt like.

I'm gonna--let me ask you a question, okay?

You're put in the exact same situation, sir.

How many miles do you think you make it? Honestly.

Be honest with yourself and all the people that are here.

- A quarter mile. - Did you say a quarter mile?

A quarter mile's very honest.

A quarter mile is--yes.

That's an honest answer, sir.

That's like not giving up too soon,

but you're like, "I'm gonna give it an effort,

but there's no way I'm making it to the beach."

Here's how far I would make it.

I would swim until something grazed my foot--

a sea creature-- and then I would just be like,

"Click, click, click, click. Blub, blub, blub, blub."

Right to the bottom of the ocean.

Done.

Done!

Sea creatures touching my feet?

No, thank you!

If someone else's foot touches mine in a hot tub,

I'll barf everywhere.

I'll a hot tub party up.

I'll ruin it.

Nine miles in the ocean!

During the night!

Swam!

Came up on shore at 6:00 in the morning.

Walked onto the shore.

Just came out of the water.

Which I hope was the night

where some high school kids were taking acid

and decided to come down,