I have this weird obsession with kids and old people falling. Like, funny falls. It is awful, but it's the thing that makes me laugh the most.

I don't mind being goofy and silly. I love to make people laugh and I'm not self-conscious.

The funny thing is that my husband couldn't be sweeter. He looks like this bad boy. He's got tattoos and earrings and a mohawk, but when you talk to him and he's around you, he's such a gentleman. He holds doors for ladies. He pulls out chairs. He cooks. He cleans.

In '87, I was about 9 years old, and so at that point I was wearing, like, fluorescent green T-shirts and acid-wash jeans and leg warmers, and my hair was in a ponytail with a scrunchie and I had the teased bangs that were up in a rainbow shape. It was crazy.

People do think you're more intelligent if you have dark hair. But my husband definitely prefers me as a blonde.

I've always felt so different from how I look. I meet so many pretty girls who are like, 'Here I am! Don't you want me because I look good?' That concept is so weird to me. I want to know, 'What else do you have going on?'