My haircutter figured out I whine less if I'm under general anesthesia. I just hope when I awaken they haven't given me a Brazilian wax.

The other day my twelve-year-old says to me, I don't feel like I'm with you right now. You're in the car with me, you're checking your e-mail, you're not listening to me, I don't feel like I'm with you. And I say, You know what? That was your mother's gripe, too. And she was right. And you're also correct. When you cop to something, you get to the next level. In this case, the next level is: I just learned something from my twelve-year-old.

Apparently my street has a leaf blower gang who tag team all day, so the sounds of the leaf blower are forever blowing from dawn to dusk.

One of the first things I said when I signed on for the show was No hugs! Full House was all based on hugs.

I'm a believer that when one door closes another one opens. But why does the one opening always hit me full-speed-knob-first into my nuts?

I'm doing 5000 seat theaters and audiences are going nuts, it's fantastic and it makes me very happy. I'm dirty, but not like this; I just do comedy that I find funny. I'm working on a new tv show for cable and it's not set up yet.

When someone you love is hurting, if it was possible, you'd want to take their pain for them. But do I really want cramps and sore boobs?