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My mom was always the supplier of soccer balls, and so people were always knocking on my door, and trying to get me out so we could play.
If you put somebody on a crack pipe and give them a 9 mm Baretta, you don't have to be a rocket scientist to figure out what's going to happen next.
Some people criticize me for always wearing different variations of bobs, but bobs never go out of style.
There are a couple of projects that are sort of on the plate; I haven't closed any of them yet. I'm trying to figure out which one is going to be the best one for me.
People want to tear me down, they were going to knife me anyway.
Some people with blogs are never going to get famous, and they've been doing it for, like, over a year. I feel bad for them.
I don't think people are ever going to a place where they're like, 'I'm over stories about character and love.'
I'm not into that Keith Richard trip of having all those guitars in different tunings. I never liked the Rolling Stones much anyway.
I always, always decide where I'm going with the ball before I take a penalty shot, stare at the ball, follow through, and never look at the place that I'm going to shoot.
