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'm all over the place, and I consider myself a bit of a scrounger: 'What will I do next, so I'm not broke?'

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 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.

I slept with my mother until I was nine years old. It was OK for the first few years, and then I don't know what happened. I just couldn't do it anymore. I mean, sleeping with the same woman, night after night. Boring!

My grandmother, she passed away at Christmas time. So now, I have this built in sadness, you know, every holiday. 'Cause I'm plagued with the thought of, you know, what she would have given me. What didn't I get to open this year?

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?