Tom Segura Recounts a Florida Drug Deal Gone Weird

If jokes about a dude rubbing his balls on hotel curtains or receiving oral sex from Siamese twins make you twitch with discomfort, click away now; Tom Segura is not for you. If, however, either of these elicited even the faintest crack of a smile, you'll probably want to clear your schedule this Thursday. The raunchy comedian makes his return to Florida this week for a show at the Fort Lauderdale Improv.

Veteran comic Segura is a comedy name to watch, especially after the critical success of his 2014 one-hour special, Totally Normal. Alongside wife and fellow comic Christina Pazsitzky, Segura hosts the award-nominated podcast Your Mom’s House, churning out what they’ve dubbed “seventh-grade humor.” He also makes regular appearances on the Joe Rogan Experience and contributed two memorable bits on Comedy Central’s This Is Not Happening (his story about overdosing is a must-watch.)

We spoke to Segura ahead of this week’s show, and he was just as unabashedly honest and hilarious as he is onstage.

New Times: How often do people come up to you after a show and talk to you about something that offended them?
Tom Segura: It doesn’t really happen. It’s happened to me before. Most people do the opposite. They’ll either tell me or message me that they’re not touching their hotel curtains because of the joke I did. Stuff like that. I’ve had people get really upset over my career with stuff that I’ve said. But even that, you find that people aren’t that confrontational. People say, "If I saw that person, this is what I’d do." But what they like to do is complain about it in front of you to somebody else. They’ll be with their friend and be like, "Fuck that guy," and you’re like, "I’m right here."

Do you still get heckled?
Sometimes. Heckling is part of the art form. It doesn’t happen every show, and some hecklers are more tame and mild. Then there’s the asshole heckler. It still exists. You just try and put out the fire. One time I heard someone say: "Try to get funny and not angry." It’s kind of the best way to handle hecklers.
So your wife Christina is a comic, and the two of you host your own podcast. Are there times when something happens and she says, “Please don’t put that into your set,” or are you more competing in tormenting each other with bits?
I guess there is something of that line where you go, "I don’t know if I should say this," but honestly, when I think of a thing that shouldn’t be in my act, I don’t evade putting it in my act. I don’t know if that makes sense. If I’m thinking about saying it onstage, it’s probably OK to say it onstage; I mean, within our relationship. We don’t have that line, "Don’t talk about that." Because we’ve been doing standup for so long, we realized too, early on in our relationship, that we’re probably more sensitive to it... You need the stuff to talk about. Like when she talks about how when I turn over, I sound like a fucking buffalo in bed, she just tears me up with that. I’ve never been like, "Oh, I wish you wouldn’t say that." It doesn’t hurt my feelings.

She was sitting next to me, and I’d never farted in front of her and I took her hand — this was a big risk — I put it between my legs, and I farted on her hand for the first fart.

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So you guys were already comics when you met. In your last special, you talk about faking it — how once people get married, all the pretense falls away and they reveal their true selves. When did you guys stop “faking it" — before or after you were married?
That’s a great question. It was definitely before. I would say you definitely have the "faking-it" dates, but something about comics… like if I was dating a noncomic, I would’ve faked it longer. You feel more authentic with another [comic]. I remember the first time I farted in front of her. I was sitting on the couch and I was watching football, at her place. She was sitting next to me, and I’d never farted in front of her, and I took her hand — this was a big risk — I put it between my legs, and I farted on her hand for the first fart. And, after that, there’s not a lot of faking it. I put it out there: I’m kind of an animal. That was the beginning of the end.

Christina is pregnant with your first child, a boy. As he grows up, how much “brown talk” [bathroom-related humor] do you expect from him, considering it’s a favorite topic of discussion for Mom and Dad?
You know, I think it’s gonna be a lot. We’re excited. I feel like there are brown households and then there are nonbrown households. There are people where the whole family are not into that, and then it’s like, for other people, it’s normal. It was kind of split in my house, where my mom was not cool with it, but Dad was. And then her family was cool with it. I feel like this kid is gonna get brown to the brown power. He’s gonna be so brown. And you think they’re going to be so into it, which I’m hoping he will be, and make fart jokes. Or, the thing you get nervous about, you know how kids always resist something in their parents? He’ll be like, "I really wish you guys would stop with your nonsense," and that would just break my heart. We always joke around; with us, he’s gonna be like, "Are you guys still doing comedy? You’re the worst." He’s gonna hate everything we say.

Is there anyone in your life who’s like, “Dude, you’re not funny,” or thinks that they’re way funnier than you?
The funny thing is that there are some friends that they always think of you as the guy that just started standup. There were friends of mine that were around when I first started, and I feel like when I talk to them, they think I’ve made no progress in my career. I’ll be like, "I’m going to Fort Lauderdale to do a show." "Oh, who are you opening for?" And I’m like, "Dude, what? I’m the headliner." "Oh really?" "Yeah, man! I have been for like eight years. What are you talking about?" They just don’t want to acknowledge that you’re not where you were. I think it’s because in entertainment, your trajectory can change at a different pace that doesn’t necessarily match up with corporate life.

Comedians love to make fun of Florida, oftentimes for good reason. But you lived here for a short while and went to high school in Vero Beach. Do you have any crazy experiences either as a resident or a visitor?
Florida is a wacky place. There’s something about the heat, the population size. People don’t realize it’s a huge state, and it attracts a lot of derelicts. There’s a lot of people walking on the side, just off 95. That’s a person you don’t want to fucking run into. Like Las Vegas, there’s a lot of shady people walking around, and you go, "Oh yeah, there’s a reason that guy’s here." And I feel it’s the same for the state of Florida...

When I was in high school, I went to buy weed, which obviously is against the law. But still, we were getting weed — I wasn’t buying heroin. So we’re in Vero Beach, my buddy and I, and there’s that era in your life where buying weed is kind of like an adventure. It’s not as simple as walking up to somebody. You gotta go find it, you know? So he calls another guy that I’ve never met. He goes by the name White Pete. And White Pete took us to Fort Pierce, which is the next town over and which is really far to go for weed. He drives us off of U.S. 1, onto a dirt road, and the dirt road led to a path that had no lights, out to a trailer. At this point, I’m thinking this is way too much for weed.

"He pulls out three guns, leaves them on his bed, and is like, 'Just sit here. If anybody comes through, just blast them.'"

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We get out of the car, a guy opens the door to a trailer — big, long dreads — his name was Pat Pat. And White Pete, who’s white, says, "These two white boys are looking for weed." I’m like, "Us three white boys, dude. You’re white too." And Pat goes, "Aight, cool." I’m thinking we should get this and go. And Pat Pat goes, "We gotta go get it." Jesus, you don’t even have it here? Pat Pat looks at me and goes, "You watch the place." I’m like, "What, dude?" By the way, I’m 14, maybe 15. He goes, "We’re gonna go get it. You stay here." And inside I’m panicking, like really scared, but I gotta act like it’s cool. You can’t be a bitch in that situation. So I go, "Yeah, I’ll watch your place."

He pulls out three guns, leaves them on his bed, and is like, "Just sit here. If anybody comes through, just blast them." And I’m like, "Uh-huh." Trying to play like that’s normal. He walks to the door, then stops, and says, "But don’t shoot my mom. If my mom comes in, don’t shoot her."

Did you finally get the weed?
Yeah, we got the weed. And it was bullshit weed too.

Tom Segura

8 p.m., Thursday, November 5, at Fort Lauderdale Improv, 5700 Seminole Way, Hollywood. Tickets cost $20 with a two-drink minimum. Visit
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Angel Melendez is an unabashed geek and a massive music nerd who happens to write words (and occasionally take photos) for Miami New Times. A graduate of Florida Atlantic University and an accomplished failure at two other universities, Angel is a lush and an insufferable know-it-all, and has way better taste in music than you. His wealth of useless knowledge concerning bands, film, and Batman is matched only by his embarrassingly large collection of Hawaiian shirts and onesies.
Contact: Angel Melendez