There is no one of-woman-born who does not like Red Lobster cheddar biscuits. Anyone who claims otherwise is a liar and a Socialist.

As an improviser, I always find it jarring when I meet someone in real life whose first answer is no. “No, we can’t do that.” “No, that’s not in the budget.” “No, I will not hold your hand for a dollar.” What kind of way is that to live?

The topic of working moms is a tap-dance recital in a minefield.

You can’t be that kid standing at the top of the waterslide, overthinking it. You have to go down the chute.

I don't really have a nemesis, but I have a series of hundreds of small enemies that fuel me. Everyone I meet I assume is out to get me and that fuels my fire on a daily basis.

Some people work with a trainer, some people work with a stylist. I work with a celebrity fecalist. A fecalist is basically a person who comes and collects my stools, and then examines them to see if I'm eating right and if I should be drinking more water and what my moods should be.

The upsides of acting in things is mostly getting your hair done and having people give you clothes. So as long as you can have a little bit of that in your life, then it's just as delightful to be behind camera.