My 13-year-old daughter leaves the house at 7:15 every morning and takes a smelly city bus to school way uptown. It's like 8 degrees out, and it's dark and she's got this morning face and I send her out there to take a bus. Meanwhile, my driver is sitting in a toasty Mercedes that's going to take me to work once both kids are gone. I could send her in the Mercedes and then have it come back to get me, but I can't have my kid doing that. I can't do that to her. Me? I earned that f—ing Mercedes. You better f—ing believe it.

It's hard to know where your thoughts come from, especially when you have a thirst for material because you need it professionally.

God is like a shitty girlfriend.

You can't cancel my stand-up tours. It's impossible. There's too many separate bosses. There is no 'bosses.'

I was in a hotel room in Dallas, and I was jerking off so much and so sadly and pathetically, that the phone rang, and I thought it's them, they're complaining. ... "Sir, could you please stop?"

Every day starts, my eyes open and I reload the program of misery. I open my eyes, remember who I am, what I'm like, and I just go, 'Ugh'.

The last jobs I had were fixing cars and covering football games for a local access tv station. As in driving the mobile van to the field, setting up 3 cameras, teaching depressed grownups and interns how to use them and directing the game from the van and then wanting to kill myself.