Name: Joey Diaz Sells Coke To Whitney Houston (from Joe Rogan Experience #163)
Uploaded: 2013-06-21T00:22:32.000Z
Description: Watch the stand-up comedy video 'Joey Diaz Sells Coke To Whitney Houston (from Joe Rogan Experience #163)' from PowerfulJRE on Comedy Buff. Published 2013-06-21. Transcript available.

Watch the stand-up comedy video 'Joey Diaz Sells Coke To Whitney Houston (from Joe Rogan Experience #163)' from PowerfulJRE on Comedy Buff. Published 2013-06-21. Transcript available.

The Joe Rogan Experience
Stan, remember those two broads that lived next to you?
Remember the tall German chick that was lanky and cute and the short brunette?
And then there was the chubbier chick, Sage.
Remember the chubby...
Oh, those are the...
Yeah, you did like heroin or something with them or something?
Oh, I did everything with them.
Yeah, I remember Sage is the one I remember.
Why stop there?
Sage is the one I...
Sage's father at one time was the Rolling Stones manager.
And what he did for this chick was he bought her a fucking Blockbuster in Ventura.
Bought her a Blockbuster.
And she said, I don't want a Blockbuster.
I think you turned her on to heroin and she was giving me shit about herpes.
I go, yeah, I got herpes.
I didn't give her no fucking herpes.
That's just...
No, I...
No, that's just...
She was giving me shit about having herpes,
but she's over there fucking doing heroin with Joey Diaz.
Listen to me.
I was homeless.
She would come to the store on Sundays.
She would come to the store on Sundays and give me pills.
And she was an expert in mixing...
What was that shit that was big, 10 years?
M-D-B-A?
M-D-M-A?
M-D-M-A with water.
M-D-M-A with water.
M-D-M-A with water.
M-D-M-A with water.
She'd drink it.
No, no, the other stuff.
Oh, GHB.
M-D-M-D.
And she'd bring it to the comedy store.
And I'd be hosting on Sundays, and she'd give me drinks to the GSP, whatever
the fuck.
GSP?
To the fuck it is, GHB, whatever.
And then impress who you're performing.
Listen, so this happened.
This went on for six months.
It's GHB and really tight trunks.
On Sundays, I'd go to her house.
Brogan, I'd go to her house.
On Sundays, after I'd host, she'd come down.
We'd buy Coke from Chewy.
We'd go to her house.
We'd do heroin.
Eat her ass.
Pills.
I'd whip her.
She'd make little shows at lingerie for me.
She was 100 pounds overweight, but this bitch was big red tits.
Yeah, I was going to say, it's not an ass you want to eat.
No, no, no, no.
She lost the weight.
Let's not have a diet.
Then, I didn't see her for a long time, right?
And then, she started coming around the comedy store and giving me that GSP and
shit.
So, one fucking, this is a great story.
I forgot about this.
I was thinking of Stan Hope on the way up here.
And our friend Mike was selling weed.
But at one time, he worked at CAA.
And he goes, listen, one of the interns over there, and he blew up.
He ended up being Whitney Houston's manager.
And, you know, and the tour manager.
And he's looking for powder.
So, every day, they would come over, and I would sell Bobby Brown and Whitney
Houston.
You know, they would come over with like $1,100, which was per diem money.
I was taking Whitney's per diem money, right?
Every day, they'd come over with a little white envelope and give me the per
diem money.
And I'd go up to the Martell cartel, and I'd buy 14 grams of blow, take an
eight ball out, and cut it, and then give it to Whitney Houston.
And they were fucking going crazy.
This went on for 30, 40 days.
But I couldn't snort all the blow I was stealing from me.
I couldn't snort it.
It was just too much.
So, I was giving it to Marilyn Martinez to hold for me.
Isn't she dead?
She's dead.
That's the coke that killed her.
So, okay.
I got like two ounces of blow, plus I snorted all this coke, and I can't snort
no more.
I don't have to do it, right?
So, one night, I call Marilyn.
I go, Marilyn, bring the coke down to the fucking store, right?
I'm selling coke to Whitney fucking Houston.
They're picking me up at 9 in the morning, paging me on the red pager.
I'm coming downstairs, getting in the car with them, going to the Martell cartel,
to the brothers, going in the house with two grams of coke already cut in my
pocket.
And I would just go in, take rocks out, throw the cut in, mix it up, and give
it right back to them in the car, and they'd be happy as shit.
They were inviting me to A&M Records to come party with them.
I don't party with Whitney.
So, how much coke were you stealing from them?
I was selling them, I was getting them a half ounce, and taking an eight ball
out, and throwing an eight ball to cut in.
What is an eight ball?
Three and a half grams.
I've done coke my entire fucking life, and I don't know, like, what it costs.
Isn't that crazy?
People are so sleazy that it's all cut.
No, no.
The point is, I don't know what it's worth.
You know, I always know where the fucking shit is at.
I know, like, coke, because someone goes, hey, do you want to do a bump?
And you go, okay.
Right, but you don't know what the fuck's going on.
He's never bought it.
No, he does whatever.
When you go out with Stan Hope, somebody got coke, he'll do coke.
You got elephant tranquilizer.
Stan Hope's like Uncle Joey.
We don't give a fuck.
The train's already running.
I got nowhere to be tomorrow.
Fuck it.
We're here already.
You know what?
I got here, and he said he had mushrooms.
I'm like, what the fuck?
This is the cocksucker that knocks on your door with rolling papers and no weed.
You know what I'm saying?
Like, I got no weed, but I got rolling papers.
Next time you bring those fucking mushrooms with you, and we could have been
right here on,
this would have been a great fucking podcast.
So I'm robbing Whitney and Bobby Brown for a fucking month.
I'm robbing their blow every day.
I can't do it.
I can't snort it fast enough.
How much are they doing?
They're doing a half ounce a day.
This is what?
This is the 90s.
No, this is 98.
They're doing a half ounce a day, which is three ounces a week.
Oh, my God.
And singing.
What does that look like?
Oh, an ounce is like this.
Oh, my God.
Like a half ounce of weed.
Oh, my God.
They're doing one of those a day.
Oh, my God.
And Bobby Brown, his face twisted.
And I was getting this shit that was flaky.
Oh, my God.
So, right?
I tell Marilyn, bring the Coke to the store.
I was going to say, like, well, aren't they feeding an entourage at this point?
No, I thought it was just those two.
But that's the thing about Coke.
It's just those two.
Yeah, you start, oh, there's only so much Coke left.
All right, you got to go.
You got to go.
You got to go.
Right.
So, this went on.
So, on Saturday night, I called Marilyn Martinez.
I go, Marilyn, do me a favor.
Bring the blow to the comedy store because I'm just going to sell it.
And a kid, after my set, gives me a little baggie with the bottom of it filled
up.
Like, not even two lines.
And I put it in my pocket, and I take it home.
When I get home, I do it.
It's not Coke.
It's crank.
So, I'm on fire now.
It's three in the morning.
I'm in my house on fire.
I got the Coke hidden in the trunk of the car.
His shoe hasn't stopped shaking since.
All right, I have the Coke in the fucking car.
No, I'm not bouncing.
I have the Coke in the car.
You were earlier.
I always do that shit.
I have the Coke in the car, right?
And I wouldn't bring it upstairs because I don't like Coke in my house.
So, I would go down and do a little bump about five in the morning.
Whoa, you would always keep it in the car?
In the car, right?
Hiding under a rock house.
That's a good thing.
I don't like it in the house.
It's not Becker taught me.
I don't like it in my house.
It's better to be parallel.
But I don't like it in my house anyway.
I never liked Coke in my house.
It's just bad.
I don't like it.
Right.
I used to leave it outside on the rocks in somebody else's garage.
And then I would go over there and do a bump and go back upstairs.
So, there's one night.
I got upstairs, and the page is going off, and it's sage.
And I said, fuck it.
Let me just bring the two ounces to her house of blow.
And I brought, at that time, it was like an ounce and a half and three quarters.
This bitch picked me up at six in the morning with a case of Starbucks coffee
in Canada,
and a half a gallon of vodka.
And we went back to her house, and we did that whole package of blow, heroin,
Valiums, MDMA, GSP.
We did it.
How many days?
How many days?
Two days.
Just two days.
One day afternoon, I had to get Scott Wolf, Josh Wolf's brother, Fredo, to come
get me over by the Directors Guild.
Oh, my God.
For two days.
I puked until Thursday.
Jesus Christ.
But here's how sick I was.
The fucking Houstons kept calling me.
And I'm like, fuck you, motherfuckers.
I'm out of commission, right?
So, finally, that next week was the Grammys.
This is the last time I seen them.
I don't think I told you about this.
Last time ever I seen Whitney Houston, I get a call on a Monday morning after
the Grammys at 9 in the morning.
And they're like, is your boy up?
He'd have to be.
Come get me.
And they pull up to my fucking house where I live by the YMCA.
And it was the manager, Whitney Houston, and Ricky Martin in the fucking back.
And they're all going.
They're going from the Grammys.
That jaw, all them jaws are fucking going, Jack.
And I get in the car with them.
I drive to the Martell cartel.
I'm sitting there like I don't even know it's Ricky Martin.
I just looked out the window.
I was more paranoid than he was.
I got in, bought it, brought it back to the car.
That's the last time I've fucking seen them.
Shit.
All right.
I'm looking at all these images.
You should probably not fucking start defamation suits.
That's a defamation suit?
About Ricky fucking Waters or whatever.
It's a true story.
I don't know.
If it didn't fucking happen, then it wouldn't give a fuck.
Well, Ricky Martin's clean and sober now.
He came out of the closet.
He's got kids.
So he'll look.
These opinions and stories are not a representative of the Joe Rogan experience.
What is this?
Law and order?
What the fuck is this?
I was actually promoting copyrighted stuff and defamation suits.
What is this?
You know what I'm saying?
Law and order.
This story might think that you might know these individuals.
They ain't the fucking people.
You know this story's going to get on the internet now.
You know, I've never played.
I've never played the brain improv.
11 years ago, what was he going to say to me?
No, you remember me, bitch?
No, I remember you.
The fuck?
Sing, bitch.
Sing.
Sing, bitch.
Freaks and geeks, lovers and children.
What's going on, ladies and gentlemen?