When you're doing sketch comedy and you're pregnant, it's like wearing a giant sombrero in every sketch.

There's only, like, five perfectly symmetrical people in the world, and they're all movie stars, and they should be, because their faces are very pleasing to look at, but the rest of us are just a jangle of stuff, and the earlier you learn that you should focus on what you have and not obsess about what you don't have, the happier you will be.

So, if you're doing good longform with talented people than you can step out and you can be the president or a construction worker and people accept that. It's really the roles you give yourself.

I've failed a million times on stage. I've listened to notes that I knew weren't right. I've pitched ideas and let other people change them, knowing that it was the wrong choice. The question you have to ask yourself is: How do you want to fail? Do you want to fail in a way that feels like it respects your tastes and value system?

It's interesting that people always want to ask me and a lot of working mothers, how do you do it? And it's like well, just like everybody else. It proves it's a bad question.

I've said this before, that, when you're in school and you're the class clown, men are really good at making fun at other people and women are really good at making fun of themselves.

I worked at an ice cream parlor called Chadwicks. We wore old-timey outfits and had to bang a drum, play a kazoo, and sing 'Happy Birthday' to people while giving them free birthday sundaes. Lots of ice cream scooping and $1 tips.