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

You know, it’s about getting out there and having a good time. Not about worrying .

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 actually wanted to be an attorney. I did do things on the side like improv and sketch comedy, but law was my focus. I was a very bookish, academic kid. When I got out of college,

I’m just myself, so I don’t know that I think of myself as a nerd icon.

My parents were vegetarians. I’d show up at school, this giant black kid, with none of the cool clothes and a tofu sandwich and celery sticks.

I’m my own boss and my boss is a total ass.

I take the most wrenchingly painful moments of my life, brush them off and present them for the amusement of others. Luckily for me, my childhood was torture.

I was not one of those people who wanted to be a comedian when I was growing up. I liked comedy, but didn’t know it was something you could do for a living.

Every ethnic group has this where people within it will try and tell each other how they should be.

They always say some women like to fix people. I don’t like to fix people, but you like a challenge.

If you haven’t noticed yet, working sucks. Unless you are a racecar driver or an astronaut or Beyonce, working is completely and utterly devoid of awesome.

When I get old and slow down I want to look behind me and see all the fire and the wreckage and no stone left unturned.

Marriage isn’t a carnival ride.

On general principle, I boycott shows that don’t employ actors.

I’m just going to be the best version of me that I could possibly be and be as funny as I possibly can.

I think diversity in television is important. It’s not about trying to fill a quota or satisfy some idea of diversity.

A woman called me interesting once, and it kind of blew my mind. She said, ‘You’re one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met,’ and I was like, ‘Wow.’

I asked these Indians: “Do men ever make Chicha?” My question was met with gales of laughter. The women howled. Bent over in hilarity, one replied, “Men can’t brew. Chicha made by men would only make gas in the belly.