Being witty was the only side effect of being depressed that was working for me.

Im sick of the foodies who need every morsel that goes into their mouth to be a Picasso painting, a Giacometti sculpture, a Proust novel, evoking the world with each crumb.

Basically, I was always very interested in comedy, but I was much more sort of academic. And then, after college, loaded with my art history degree, I decided to go work at Comedy Central as a temp.

I want to go to Australia and take the same goofy picture of me holding a koala that everyone else takes.

If I have one wish for my birthday, it is that 35 is the end of desperation and the beginning of acceptance. Part of that is believing that if I'm meant to give birth, I will.

I remember the first time I heard a co-worker refer to himself as a foodie. It immediately irritated me. Was he implying that he appreciated food more than other people? That his love of eating was somehow more evolved than mine? Don't all people love the thing we can't live without?

It's not that I think weddings - or marriages - are letdowns. It's just that I want to see my wedding as one awesome achievement on a continuum of achievements, all of which were, in their way, just as beautiful and profound for having led me to the current one.

The very first time I did standup, I went to an open mike on the Lower East Side at a place that doesn't exist anymore. And it was one of those open mikes that wasn't really just for comedy.

Everyone wants to say they hate lawyers, and yet I've never met a parent who didn't want their kid to be a lawyer.

You know how Bed Bath & Beyond sells those white noise machines that help you sleep? And they usually make ocean noises? I want one that's just David Gergen gently muttering about the economy.