"I’d also like to give honorable mention to Mike McCarthy, who called for an onside kick (NEVER CALL A SURPRISE ONSIDE WHEN YOU HAVE THE BETTER TEAM), and wore a one piece snowitard that left nothing to the imagination. How are you supposed to play hard for a coach who looks like he’s about to replace your muffler? THAT IS NOT A GOOD LOOK."

"But me, raising a kid? I don’t even like kids. They’re always sticky, you know, like they’ve got jam on their hands. Even if there’s no jam in the house, somehow they’ve always got jam on their hands. I’m not the right guy to deal with that. I have no patience for jam hands."

"You smiled. You’re pleased that the iceman looked at you like a Porterhouse steak."

"Now, speaking of toll booths, I’m drawing from my life experience on the road. I’ve driven a lot and I think that most people who have driven at all in this area would have to agree that New Jersey deserves the tile ‘Toll Booth Capital of America.’ Because you can’t back out of your driveway in NJ without some schmuck in a hat wants 50 cents. And I don’t mind paying tolls, but every 27 feet? Bullshit! I’d like to give them a blank check when I enter NJ and I’ll sign it when I leave, let them fill it out… You can’t make any gas mileage in NJ, you’re in a constant state of slowing down. By the time I get to Pennsylvania, I need a fucking break job. So I say, let ‘em be honest. Let ‘em put it right on the license plate - New Jersey: The Toll Booth State. What does it say now, The Garden State? Sure, if you’re growing smokestacks, yes."

"But maybe he didn’t mean it as a date thing. Maybe he just needed to get out of the house, and since I’m currently one of the women sitting home thinking, ‘If I could only find a man like Aragorn,’ he picked me."

"You mean to tell me you slept with a woman and now you’re whining about it? You’re not a bluesman, you’re an idiot!"