I'm black, and black don't crack. It does droop.

I'm just myself, so I don't know that I think of myself as a nerd icon.

Nothing really worth having is easy to get. The hard-fought battles, the goals won with sacrifice, are the ones that matter.

When one is undone—sprawled across the cold tile of a public bathroom in a pool of one’s own vomit, or shivering in the back of a taxi in a pair of urine-soaked skinny jeans with no money for cab fare and a dead cell phone battery—much like a wobbly toddler or an unhinged politician, one immediately looks for someone else to blame. God. Your parents. Ex-girlfriends. Undocumented immigrants. Marvin in Human Resources. China.

Maybe the nails are a little stubby and gnawed on, but I definitely do not have man hands.

Real success and accomplishment, at whatever it is you are passionate about, requires real work. Real sacrifice. Real disappointment. Real failure. And it requires the ability to scrape your sorry ass up off the floor, stumble to your feet, wipe the rivulets of watery drool from your face, and do it again, like an obstinate toddler running against the wall with his head in a bucket.

Comedy is ugly. It's honest, it's raw.