They call it torture when our guys put underwear on a guy's head, stripped him naked, put an egg between his buttcheeks and made him do jumping jacks. You know, if it can't get you into a fraternity at Chico State University, it's not torture.

My dad got divorced six times. Well, he actually only got divorced five times. He wouldn't divorce the sixth one 'cause he said he didn't want people to think he couldn't commit. 'I don't want people not taking me serious.' Dad, your last marriage was performed in Reno by an ordained lesbian Elvis impersonator. Who you hit on.

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.

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.

Losing builds character. You know who said that? A loser! Guy who got his ass stomped every day, basketball, football, baseball, lose, lose, lose and lose. All right, I'm talking about me.

I don't fail. I succeed at finding out what doesn't work.

I had a real job at fourteen years old. At seventeen, I was on my own. At twenty, I cut the liver out of a drifter and gave it to my father! 'Cause my dad's a drinker and I love my dad. And for eighty bucks, you can do anything in Mexico!