Well, I'm a 14 handicap. Anyone who golfs knows what that means.

My wife said to me 'I hope you win... but if you do and you go up and say you love me, don't think it makes up for never saying it when we're alone.

You know, a TV show is a slow build.

I'm now unemployed. It's a weird feeling with no work, but at least there's still golf. Standup comedy is like my core, it's what I do. But I want to be a pro golfer. It's a love/hate relationship with golf. I can come away feeling so serene, and yet, it's the thing that I can let get to me to throw a club and say curses that don't even exist. I'm obsessed with something that won't let me master it. I don't know. I need therapy.

If a guy's ever telling you a four-hour sex story with a straight face, just feel sorry for him. Not for lying to you, but for lying to himself. As a matter of fact, stop him right in the middle of the story and just hug him. Nine times out of ten he'll just break down and cry. He knows you know.

Without identical twins, you'll never get to experience entering a hotel room with one of them and watching him run into the full-length mirror because he though he saw his brother.

Every parent knows that for a kid, the car is chloroform.