I was glad to be sober, but after ninety days, people weren't patting me on the back anymore, sayin', 'Good job on the sobriety! Go get 'em!'
I went and worked for my dad after school. I'd show up late and stuff like that.
When I got outta school, I didn't know what I was gonna do with my life. I knew I didn't have much in the grades department, and so I was very fearful. A whole lot of fear.
I seem to get motivated a few months at a time, and then something stressful breaks the routine, and I just fold.
The great comics can fall on their faces, but then they can say, 'Oh, baby, you're the greatest.' They show their heart and their vulnerability.
I signed on as the clown, and, by golly, I'll keep up my end of the bargain.
I don't know what the future holds. All I know is, I'm good today. Real good.
I still have to work on my weight and some of my other demons.
Everyone is treating it like a Hollywood story. In Madison, it's a neighborhood story.
Although I love this kind of comedy, sometimes I feel trapped by always having to be the most outrageous guy in the room. In particular, I'm working on trying not to be that guy in my private life.
I want to live fast and die young.
You enter strong and you exit strong, and you're going to be OK.
Once I thought that if I just had enough in the bank, if I had enough fame, that it would be all right. But I'm a human being like everyone else. I'm not exempt.
People... need a time to laugh. It's up to us to bonk ourselves on the head and slip on a banana peel so the average guy can say, 'I may be bad, honey, but I'm not as much of an idiot as that guy on the screen.'
Basically, I only play one character; I just play him at different volumes.
I have a nice apartment now that's all taken care of. I make my bed every day.
I can't help it. I want to be a good Catholic, but I'm a hedonist.
Everybody laughs when fatty falls down.
The point is, how do you know the Guarantee Fairy isn't a crazy glue sniffer.
In the land of the skunks he who has half a nose is king.
I remember one time when all the nuns in my Catholic grade school got around in a semicircle, me and Mom in the middle, and they said, 'Mrs. Farley, the children at school are laughing at Christopher, not with him.' I thought, 'Who cares? As long as they're laughing.'
I used to think that you could get to a level of success where the laws of the universe didn't apply. But they do. It's still life on life's terms, not on movie-star terms. I still have to work at relationships. I still have to work on my weight and some of my other demons.
I was in the Pritikin Center in Santa Monica once, trying to lose 30 or 40 pounds in a month. I'd work... on a treadmill and with the weights, but it was driving me nuts. So I escaped. Tom Arnold picked me up and we went to Le Dome and had tons of desserts.
I have a tendency toward the pleasures of the flesh. It's a battle for me, as far as weight and things like that. But I'm curbing them because I want to continue to do comedy, and the two don't mix. So I try to fight those demons.
There's no control in life, is there? There's only one who's in control, and He'll take me when He wants me. I don't want to know about it. It's none of my business. But when it happens, I just ask that it won't be painful and that He forgives me my sins.
I went down to Chicago to try to go into a place called Second City. I auditioned for that and got in pretty quickly, but I couldn't stop partying. They gave me a warning: 'If you do it again, we're gonna kick you off the main stage.'
