I met a new girl at a barbecue, very pretty, a blond I think. I don't know, her hair was on fire, and all she talked about was herself. You know these kind of girls: 'I'm hot. I'm on fire. Me, me, me.' You know. 'Help me, put me out.' Come on, could we talk about me just a little bit?

I once made love for an hour and fifteen minutes, but it was the night the clocks are set ahead.

The only way I would go back to hosting would be if it were something entirely new. It would prevent me from wanting to host a standard-fare kind of talk show.

I think sometimes I should do more carousing, because I don't do much and maybe it would be fun occasionally. It's hard for me to have fun and I'm a serious thinker and a searcher and funny from the front.

Without comedy as a defense mechanism I wouldn't be able to survive.

They should put expiration dates on clothing so we men will know when they go out of style.

Oysters are supposed to enhance your sexual performance, but they don't work for me. Maybe I put them on too soon.