I'm a last-minute shopper. I end up at the mall or somewhere on Christmas Eve. It's a shame.

Someday I'm gonna be famous. Do I have talent, well, no. These days you really don't need it.

There ain't a woman in the world that wants to hear the word yes when she asks if you think that she looks chubby in that dress. And if she cooks all day you better eat it with a smile; it doesn't matter if it tastes just like bad gravy on a Goodyear tire.

Unless you're a true prodigy, you're going to have to practice for a while being bad before you get any good. And it will seem like a waste of time. I remember that feeling well. But don't worry about wasting time, because it'll be so worth it. It's my experience that in the end, life lessons and guitar lessons begin to blur in all sorts of interesting ways.

When a single mom goes out on a date with somebody new. It always winds up feeling more like a job interview.

Jackass millionaires, hey, hey, Hollywood, here we come.

I get to cry to Barbara Walters, when things don't go my way. I'll get community service no matter which laws I break.