I was petrified when [my parents] first saw me [perform]. Well, also: because I wasn't really funny as a kid, and I felt like I was, y'know, exposing this alter-ego. Y'know? Plus, here I am getting up on stage and manipulating these people, y'know, into laughing. It's a power thing! Y'know? And it's weird to do it in front of your parents.

My parents seemed almost embarrassed by the fact of their marriage. There was no story, for example, of how they met.

I’ve always been mysterious. My mother and father always used to ask me, "What are you thinking, what’s going on?" There are times when I don’t understand myself, you know what I mean?

My parents heard me singing and they were surprised because they did not know I could sing.

I could see the same look of incomprehension on her face that my parents often wore: ‘this person cannot possibly be related to me.’

I'm all amazed, befuddled, and beflustered!

But her parents were certified weirdos and probably deserved such tactics.

I really struggled to get clarity from my parents about who I am and, you know, ‘where I come from.

Your parents are weirdos, in the best possible way. They do not celebrate birthdays; never in your life have you received a present on the tenth of December. Instead, you are given books on the days that their authors were born.

Grown ups are certainly very strange.

My earliest memory is of feeling different. My parents told me that I wasn't like other children.

Or may-be one who is puzzled at me.
As if I were not puzzled at myself!

Oh, why will parents always appear at the wrong time? Some extraordinary mistake in nature, I suppose.

they are mystified by certain instances.