My mom was a manic depressive schizophrenic who, after a year in prison, went home and shot herself. My sister, Kirsten, an amazing poet, who was raised by this woman, and was dating a guy who broke up with her for the fourth time in three weeks. And one day, she came to his house, got a gun, and blew her brains out all over his headboard. I just went through a divorce, five years in court and cost me $2 million dollars. If anyone, by law, should be forced to take antidepressants it's me... But instead, I choose to be an antidepressant. And you can take me with alcohol.

And one more thing I want to be clear about - I know who I am. I am just a very thin layer of charming with some funny sprinkles wrapped around a huge creamy center of raging arrogant a-hole. I got it.

Sometimes failure makes your future because you set the past on fire.

There's a one in six billion chance you're gonna find your soul mate. But, maybe, your perfect soul mate is actually three or four half perfect people. How far are you willing to go to actually find that perfect somebody... ies. If you're not willing to make a group of people your soul mate then you'd better plan on being alone. You'll always have television.

My first car was a 1977 Oldsmobile Delta 88. Ugly car. More ugly on this car than a Rolling Stones group photo.

I have pictures of my daughter, in the hospital, at three seconds, six seconds, nine seconds, and then fifteen seconds, 'cause dumbass couldn't get the camera ready fast enough. Yeah, ha ha ha. She wrote that in the photo album.

I say we spend some money, clean up some junkies and make them all go work for the Red Cross. You ever give blood to the Red Cross? Little paper hatted trainee kid, just sticking you full of holes. Golly, jeez, this is way harder than the deep fryer, how does this work? You get an ex-junkie in there, bap-bap, he's gonna find a vein. You're in, you're out, you got sugar cookie and you're happy!