I was born in Alabama, but I only lived there for a month before I'd done everything there was to do.

I get the first flight out from anywhere I am because I have to come home to my kids.

The wages of sin are death, but by the time taxes are taken out, it's just sort of a tired feeling.

Speaking of happy successes, after years of struggling to lose those few extra pounds every mother puts on during adoption, particularly when the doctor orders bed rest, in 2004 I sent my assistant to the Gap in dark glasses with a fake ID to purchase my first pair of Easy Fit jeans.

I don't have a bank account because I don't know my mother's maiden name and apparently that's the key to the whole thing right there. I go in every few weeks and guess.

The problem with cats is that they get the exact same look on their face whether they see a moth or an axe-murderer.

It is my wish to die of unique causes, perhaps in a high-speed tricycle crash, a bizarre stapling incient, or as a result of inadvertently sucking my brains out through my ear while trying to untwist the vacuum hose.