I feel like if I'm going to give you a book about my dad, then I really want to give you my dad, because he is interesting and he is funny and if you're buying a book about him, I don't want you to have to sit through stuff that's not him.

I feel like if I'm going to give you a book about my dad, then I really want to give you my dad, because he is interesting and he is funny and if you're buying a book about him, I don't want you to have to sit through stuff that's not him.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.