My sister might be dumb, but that doesn't make her all that different from the rest of us. She's just like any other American. Except she's Canadian. And retarded.

Cocaine is yucky. I did it once: I was at a party; I was bored. I was like, 'Alright, I'll do a line.' Then I was just bored longer.

Intellectually, I think everyone really knows that women are funny, but it's a weird thing that people keep trotting out.

When you're pregnant, people feel like they can come up and give you unsolicited advice. When I was nine months pregnant, this one woman came up and she said, I have one word for you: epidural. And I was like, Oh my God, thanks. But we already picked a name.

I love my hunting dog. I loved my hunting dog - I'm not very good at hunting.

My sister is also retarded. Across the board. She's a one hundred per cent, honest to goodness, born that way retard. I learned a long time ago that if you're going to tell a story about your retarded sister, you need to mention she's retarded right off the bat or inevitably, at the end of the story, someone will say, What... is she, retarded? And then you have to go, Uh... yeah, she is. Followed by a lengthy, awkward silence.

It's interesting, once I have convinced people that, yes, I have a sister with a mental disability, the retard jokes really dry up, so I'm not sure how much retard humor is really going on out there, but I imagine there's a lot because it's a pretty safe group to make fun of. It's not like the Retards of America are gonna rise up and organize a protest. They're not gonna write letters. They only just recently got the Supreme Court to stop executing them.