“Go ahead, take out your dong.’ ‘I’m not taking out my dong. And by the way, who uses the word dong?”

We’re down in Mexico. It’s for a bachelor party, so we go into a Mexican strip club.

You grow up real quick, a half-Mexican in a sailor’s suit, because I’d be riding the streetcar to school everyday.

Well, once I fried tofu and put Sriracha on it. After that I was so depressed I swore off preparing food for myself altogether.

Near my house in Los Angeles is a waterfall. I love to take the wife and kids, but it’s also near a sketchy neighborhood. So there’s a lot of gang members that hang out at the waterfall. It’s like somebody took an Ansel Adams photo and then put a Cypress Hill video inside it.

If you want to be hip to the lingo, they’re not using the word dong up in the States.

Don’t bring your sand toys to the park. That’s another bad move. Because I go to the park, and I’m on the Vicodin and a little weed too – let’s face it – and I go in there, and my wife’s like.

I’m always alone. Sad face emoticon.

Stop throwing us all together like some sort of Puerto Ricaminican Tex-Mex buffet.

I go back with this woman down a murky hallway, and then without missing a beat – these ladies are all business – she goes.

Im so sick of people treating Latinos like some homogenous group that all feel the same way about everything.

The horrible truth is that I am lazy and I am going to write and do bits that just hand themselves to me.

I bullshit on the phone all day with a variety of people discussing various projects, and occasionally write jokes.

Bring the sand toys! Bring the sand toys!’ And I know what happens every single time.

I become sand toy repo man from the eight little kids that run off in nine different directions with my sand toys.

Minding my own business, humming out a ‘Frere Jacques’ – and I realized that in any other town, this might be considered cute. But you know what it is in San Francisco? Sexy.

My primary responsibility is to be funny.