I have a rule, and that is to never look at somebody's face while we're having sex; because, number one, what if I know the guy?

I used to think drinking was the only way to be happy. Now I know there is no way to be happy.

Anything can happen with a razor.

I can't think of anything worse after a night of drinking than waking up next to someone and not being able to remember their name, or how you met, or why they're dead.

I have to find work wherever it might be hiding.

It's a big deal about whether or not gays can march in the St. Patrick's Day Parade and I have to say that on some level I kind of see their point. Because when you think about it, it is a real macho heterosexual event. Bunch of guys in short skirts on a cart made of rose pedals sharing a bag pipe. That's not for sissies.

I love eating in it, brushing my teeth and swallowing the toothpaste in it. I love punching the ceiling with my fists when I'm lost or I can't find a parking space.