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.

I swore I would never get involved in my dad's life. But then he started blowing it. So I had to get involved, you know, but he's my dad, I can't send him to his room or ground him or go to his first grade play and scream, "Look at the fairy!" I was a wood nymph.

Satan called - he's changed the sheets, fluffed the pillows and laid out the complimentary chocolate. Hell is ready for John Edwards.

In a normal family, a surprise means presents, cake and a party. For me ? I had no idea. And my family, doing something nice is seen as an attack. When I was nine, I 'attacked' my father with a fathers day gift. A visor organiser for his car, because it was useful. And it rhymed. Visor. Organiser. I was nine.

Everybody I've ever met was destroyed by a member of the opposite sex early on and that damage you took into every relationship after that, everybody. Every woman in here got intimidated by a guy, pushed around too much, now you're new boyfriend tickles you a little too hard, boom restraining order. Every guy here had a woman sleep with his best friend, now your new girlfriend hugs your cousin a little long, boom car bomb.

Everyone should think for themselves. I learned that in a book I bought called 'Everyone Should Think For Themselves'.

Being a parent is a life sentence. You see, that's why normal people should not have children because if you raise a kid with only love and support, I guarantee that kid will be in rehab by the time he is 16. Why? Because you never introduced him to Mr. Back-of-Your-Hand. You know why I only broke into a liquor store once? 'Cause my father introduced me to Mr. Back-of-His-Hand and its wiley sidekick, Mr. Foot-in-My-Ass.