At the end of the day it's the end of the day.

You can talk about things indirectly, but if you want to talk how people really talk, you have to talk R-rated. I mean I've got three incredibly intelligent daughters, but when you get mad, you get mad and you talk like people talk. When a normal 17-year-old girl storms out of the house or 15-year-old boy is mad at his mom or dad, they're not talking the way people talk on TV. Unless it's cable.

People do what they do to each other and they feed on it.

I am stressed because once I am flattened out so thin to be able to slide under a doorway, I may never be able to ever be unflattened so I could be regular sized again.

The squirrel in my yard really knows his way around the neighborhood.

My father once told me, and it's stuck with me to this day: As you walk through life, every time you fart it pushes you forward.

I love watching people get hit in the crotch. But only if they get back up. If their teeth are bleeding, if they're really hurt, if an ambulance has to come, I'm not laughing.