I can't say that period talk is my favorite bonding arena. But I also think it's sort of funny.

I was telling some people in my dressing room some of my other stories, my psychotic break, and blah, blah, blah, and no, they kind of look at you and it's just not what they wanted to hear.

All I can say is that when millions of plastic dolls of you are being sold each day and an equal number of teenage boys are masturbating over you each night, it's bound to do something screwy to your psyche.

People see me and they squeal like tropical birds or seals stranded on the beach.

My mother certainly loves caviar, but I think that's generational - they grew up thinking it's romantic or sophisticated or something.

I'm fine, but I'm bipolar. I'm on seven medications, and I take medication three times a day. This constantly puts me in touch with the illness I have. I'm never quite allowed to be free of that for a day. It's like being a diabetic.

You can't really accurately diagnose someone, I think. Or I've been told that.