Waitressing - by far the worst job ever created.

I was screaming constantly, on the set, in my room... everywhere.

If I moved, he moved. If I stopped, he stopped. It was a duel.

You want a lesson? I'll give you a lesson. How about a geography lesson? My father's from Puerto Rico. My mother's from El Salvador. And neither one of those is Mexico.

Now that I have a child of my own, I'm in awe of - and deeply grateful for - the time my parents spent in taking me to bookstores.

My son, before he went to school, he'd eat pretty much everything. Then as soon as he went to school, he got some peer pressure, and other kids would say, 'Oh, you're gonna eat that. That's horrible. That's disgusting.'

No doubt, my parents were hardworking, you know, middle class. My father, when my sister and I were younger, he was a parking attendant at the old Dunes Hotel and Casino. My mother was a bookkeeper in a title company.

The black family survived centuries of slavery and generations of Jim Crow, but it has disintegrated in the wake of the liberals' expansion of the welfare state.