There is no definitive guidebook on how to pick the right partner, and even if there were, I'm way too dumb to write it.

No, you can't go getting mad at people because they're shitty. Life will get mad at them, don't worry.

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.

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.

I just wanted to compile these stories about growing up with my father and I wanted people to be able to enjoy them individually, but also the entire book as a whole.

You go ahead. I'd rather not be shot out of a tube into a pool filled with a bunch of nine-year-olds' urine.

There is no definitive guidebook on how to pick the right partner, and even if there were, I'm way too dumb to write it.