Amy Schumer: Mostly Sex | Stuff Stand Up, Comг©di...

She leaned heavily into the "Mostly Sex Stuff" promise, detailing the bizarre internal monologue of a woman during a one-night stand ("Did I leave the oven on? No, I don't cook. Is that a mole on his shoulder? I should tell him to see a specialist.")

She strutted to the mic, squinting against the spotlight. "Hi guys. Wow. You all look great. I look like a thumb that someone tried to dress up for prom, but we’re making it work." Amy Schumer: Mostly Sex Stuff Stand Up, ComГ©di...

"So, let's talk about sex. Or, as I like to call it, 'The Reason I Have This Specific Lower Back Pain.'" She leaned heavily into the "Mostly Sex Stuff"

"Oh, sweetie, don't look at him," Amy pointed at the man. "He's terrified. He just learned things about biology that his high school coach skipped. It's okay, Dave. It’s all natural. Mostly." I should tell him to see a specialist

By the time she reached her closing bit—a frantic, physical reenactment of trying to put on Spanx while sweaty—the room was hers. She walked off stage drenched in sweat, the echoes of "Mostly Sex Stuff" still ringing in the rafters, having once again proven that nothing is too "gross" if it's the truth.

The laughter was immediate, that comfortable, expectant kind. Amy leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial stage whisper.