“I was raised by a single dad, so I’ve always just kind of liked “guys” stuff. I think my dad just took me to the things he was interested in.”

I like the company of guys. I have a lot of good girlfriends that I really love, but you know, most of my close friends are men.

Pop culture hales you and wants you to fail.

Successful people just don’t let failure define them or keep them from doing what they want to do. For example, I’d have people come up to me after my shows, and they’d say they want to do stand-up but are scared they’re going to fail. I’d tell them,

the freedom to live a life free of fear of violence, to select a fulfilling career and be compensated fairly, to choose when to start a family, to marry whom you love.

No one wants to hear about how awesome you were; people want to hear about the time you blew it.

Much like a wobbly toddler or an unhinged politician, one immediately looks for someone else to blame. God. Your parents. Ex-girlfriends. Undocumented immigrants. Marvin in Human Resources. China.

I always tell people that if you really want to know somebody, they should listen to that person’s interview with me. I spend a lot of time with my guests.

I love Toronto. I love it. I love Toronto. I love Canada. I can’t wait to get back. Can’t wait to have some Timbits.

I was really unhappy. I had a great job that I should have loved, yet I was miserable. I slowly realized that was because I wasn’t performing. So I just tried stand-up and fell in love with it after one performance.

I like grown up comedy.

I love to be busy and be challenged. I’m my happiest when I’m under pressure and almost overwhelmed by how much I have to get done.

But I think what diversity brings to any daypart is more eyeballs, just more opportunity.

So what I would say to other people is to just embrace who you are because you will become instantly happier.

All these young books for women are like I’m 29 with a closet full of Prada shoes and I can’t get a date. Come on.

I have always been a softie, and I fight it with every fiber of my being. Sadly, my being’s fibers need to hit the gym.

It is hard, it lasts all day, the lighting is generally fluorescent, and, apparently, drinking at your desk is frowned upon.

The first thing I remember is that my dad had a big iron Olivetti typewriter and he worked all night.

My dad is the best and funniest newspaper columnist. There is nobody anywhere near as good.

My dad was very successful as a journalist, so I didn’t want to be one. I wanted to be a novelist.

The world’s most competitive man, my dad. Wouldn’t let us win at Monopoly… he wouldn’t cut any slack for his children.

My dad Alan loved Westerns and we watched them together when there wasn’t much else on TV. I had toy cowboys I’d call Richard Widmark or Gregory Peck and we’d restage the Battle of the Alamo.

My dad never really wrote what he thought. None of his inner rage and darkness and problems, which we all have, made it on to the page. For him, writing was a process of making everything appear funny.

I was 41 when I became a dad. I try to be as much fun as my father was, but I’m at home more – and less of a disciplinarian.

But when you come home at night with only the shattered pieces of your hopes and dreams, he can mend them like new with two magic words Hi, Dad!