I’m not a Hollywood guy.

You know, when you’re a fat guy you don’t need a reason to sweat. Guys come up to me and go “Jeez... what have you been doing – jumping rope in the attic or something?“... “Umm, no... I peeled an orange about an hour ago, why?

I had my boy in Boston on Easter Sunday. That kills me, from a sports perspective. He’s a Boston baby and I’m a New York guy.

I’m not a gay man, but I will say this: I get it now. I know what all the hype is about.

Nobody actually ever does this – escaping through a window.

I’ve always been the guy who doesn’t necessarily get it with women. A woman would have to say, ‘I like you, I want to go out with you, you can ask me.’ And still I would question it. Did she mean it?

If I do a movie where I have to have a son and it’s a chubby kid, my mother is always like, ‘You were never like that.’ She gets so upset about it.

How big are muffins going to get before we all join hands across America? Have you seen them? They’re huge. “Yeah, I’ll take a coffee and... Oh, my God! Yeah, I’ll have the beanbag chair with raisins.

Just me onstage with a mike having an intimate relationship with the audience. I don’t get nervous for that. I just get excited.

I just want to put some positive stuff out there. If it works, great. If it doesn’t, no problem.