Every day I wrote in my journal: "How am I going to win today?" So that when the guys are talking about water-boarding I'm telling them they haven't even got the right towels.

I think my level of fame will drop back down. I think it’ll recede. In fact, I know it will. That’s life on planet earth. And I’m okay with that. Besides getting tables at restaurants and special treatment at the airport, what else is there?

I have no affinity for animals. I don’t hate animals and I would never hurt an animal; I just don’t actively care about them. When a coworker shows me cute pictures of her dog, I struggle to respond correctly, like an autistic person who has been taught to recognize human emotions from flash cards. In short, I am the worst.

You all have got to stop calling each other sluts and whores. It only makes it okay for guys to call you sluts and whores.

If you are a woman and you bought this book for practical tips on how to make it in a male-dominated workplace, here they are. No pigtails, no tube tops. Cry sparingly. (Some people say “Never let them see you cry.” I say, if you’re so mad you could just cry, then cry. It terrifies everyone.)

I think the philosophy will continue to be what it always was; which was, let's keep throwing a bunch of things at the wall, and see what sticks.

I think part of picking where you live in New York is accepting who you are. Really looking at yourself and going, 'Yeah, I'm not cool enough for the West Village.'