When it's asshole-tightening time, that's when you see what people are made of. Or at least what their asshole is made of.

If it's not bourbon or sweatpants, it's going in the garbage.... No, don't get creative. Now is not a creative time. Now is a bourbon and sweatpants time.

Writing a book is incredibly pleasurable, but very solitary. You have total control, but sometimes that can drive you insane.

The baby will talk when he talks, relax. It ain't like he knows the cure for cancer and just ain't spitting it out.

You worry too much. Eat some bacon...what? No, I got no idea if it'll make you feel better, I just made too much bacon.

Eventually, though, I came to the conclusion that I was the male equivalent of a Toyota Camry. You know: No one ever says, "I have to have a Toyota Camry." But most people who spend some time in a Camry start to like it. "It's pretty reliable," they think. "It doesn't have a lot of problems, and it's not bad to look at. You know what? I'd probably prefer a nicer car. But I can live with a Camry.

You say you’re sick, huh? Well, it looks like you’ve come down with a case of bullshit.