You know who does have a funny bone in her body? Your mom every night for a dollar.

I want to spend time with Oprah and I don't know what I need to do to make that happen.

You transition as a mother from literally just pulling a booger out of that person's nose whenever you see one until at some point they assert: "No, I'm a person. You can't fix my underpants on the subway."

I want every day to be the most boring news day ever. I want every day to be about spelling bee champions and baby basketball. It's better to have no comedy material than a horrific news day.

When I turned 50, I looked in the mirror and I thought: "Hey, this isn't the dress rehearsal, this is life and I don't know how much longer I'm going to have!"

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.)

Twitter seems like a busman's holiday: just more writing. I have no plans to do it. I'll just stick with my 24/7 webcam. I'm old-fashioned that way.