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 kind of came to the conclusion after I did finally get married that love and relationships are just a series of horrific losses with hopefully one win.

Before I proposed to my now-wife, I was understandably nervous. My father suggested that I take stock of all of my experiences and relationships with women, from my earliest memories to present day, and see if I had learned anything that might inform my decision.

My parents had irrational fears of Mexico and assumed that once you crossed the border, drug runners made you swallow a heroin balloon and then within the hour you were in a bathtub full of ice and they were harvesting your kidneys.

On My Last-Place Finish in the 50-Yard Dash During Little League Tryouts “It kinda looked like you were being attacked by a bunch of bees or something. Then when I saw the fat kid with the watch who was timing you start laughing…. Well, I’ll just say it’s never a good sign when a fat kid laughs at you.

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

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.