But I like to swim. At high school, I tried out for the swim team. I shaved off all my body hair, and that extra burst of speed from all the bullies shouting Kill the fairy.

I was feeling a bit down, I went to a therapist a few times, at a hundred bucks a pop. But then I realized that no therapy session would ever cheer me up half as much as if I was just strolling along and found a hundred dollar bill.

I'm not Catholic, but I gave up picking my belly button for lint.

You know what I hate? Indian givers... no, I take that back.

I saw a psychologist once because I thought I had depression. It cost me $100. When I left, I realised that there's nothing he could have said that would cheer me up as much as if I found a $100 bill on my way home.

Women: You can't live with them, and you can't get them to dress up in a skimpy little Nazi costume and beat you with a warm squash or something.

Well, my brother says 'Hello.' So, hooray for speech therapy.