Every weekend, I would get the drunk driving lecture. Of course, Dad drank and drove all the time. I guess it wasn't a lecture; it was helpful tips from the master.

My father never missed a drink in his life. Or a joint. Or a party. Or a chance to get laid. He also never missed a day of work, or a house payment, or a car payment. I never went hungry, although he did a couple of times so I wouldn't.

This horrible decade where all of us men tried to be individual rebels... by wearing the exact same flaming skull on a bedazzled Ed Hardy thermal. I have three of them, I'm not laughing at you I'm laughing with you.

My dad's all I've ever had. When I was 3 and 4, my mom used to take me to bars. I understand why now - babysitters cost beer, beer and-a-half an hour.

Normal people, want to be accepted. Screwed up people, want to be accepted. It's one of the few things we have in common. My whole life, all I ever wanted was my dad to pat me on the top of the head and go, Who's a good boy ? Who's a good boy? But, instead, all he ever did was wipe peanut butter on the end of my nose and laugh while I tried to lick it off.

No problem is so big and difficult that it can't be blamed on somebody else.

I don't believe in right or left; I don't believe in Santa or Satan. I believe in things I can touch - like vodka and Oreos.