Top 44 Chris Gethard Quotes

Both creatively and organizationally, being medicated has helped me immensely.

I always think all the other comedians in New York hate me – I’m just convinced that they all dislike me – when, generally, I think I’m a pretty well-respected guy.

I feel like a lot of performers‘ worst shows happened in Philly. There’s something about that town.

Cops in New York City don’t have the best reputation. It’s a fast-paced city, and they deal with a lot, and many people have seen lots of cops interact with the public utilizing what can be gently called ‘not the best customer service.’

When people ask me, ‘Why don’t you drink?’ I usually smile and say ‘Because I’m not good at it.’

The one-word story about why I have a chip on my shoulder is ‘bullying.’

I very classically would go into manic phases, which were as dangerous, if not more so, than the depressed phases, and I think I’d come up with the best ideas I ever had, and then the next day, I’d look at them and be like, ‘This is nonsense,’ because it was born out of a manic episode. What a waste of time.

One thing I’ve realized is that being a nerd has transformed. I like that it’s easier to read comic books and, like, ‘Lord of the Rings‘ now. You don’t have to get punched in the chest in the gym locker room for that anymore.

I think the key to improv is always listening. It’s embracing. It’s positivity. It’s hearing things and not shutting them down.

As far as comedy goes, I’m endlessly inspired by Jo Firestone.

I’m a pescatarian.

Anyone who lives in N.Y.C. will tell you that getting into a confrontation on a city street is a complete nightmare 100 percent of the time.

By August of 2003, I had graduated from Rutgers, gone through a stretch of living at my parents‘ house, and wound up sharing an apartment with a college friend of mine in Montclair, New Jersey.

I think I’m a very notoriously positive comic.

No aspect of my brief and mild fame actually made me happier.

I am scared of horror movies.

I didn’t like who I was. I spent a lot of my life regretting who I was, which is a sad thing to say.

In 2002, I was taking an improv class because, as a white male with glasses who was born between 1978 and 1994, it’s legally required that I take at least one improv class in my life.

I quit drinking in 2002, mere months before my college graduation.

Shows are my saving grace. In between actual jobs, the only thing that keeps me sane is the knowledge that I can go up on stages.

I just really remember the feeling of being a younger comedian who was kind of an outlier for being experimental and weird and how that could feel lonely or hopeless.

The whole romanticized ‘sad clown‘ thing, we gotta get rid of that. That has to go! That’s just getting sick people to voluntarily stay sicker and sadder than they have to be.

I do not like confrontations in New York City.

I’ve always been really open onstage.

When my TV show was in production, dozens of women asked me out on Facebook. Some were shy about it; some were blatant. Some I knew, some were total strangers. But they went for it.

I’m not exactly Don Draper when it comes to physical attractiveness.

I think one of the things about listening is that it’s always at its most powerful when it’s present, when it’s right here, when it’s right now. And that’s a lesson about improv that I think just made me a much more social person.

Part of North Jersey life is that everyone is obsessed with being tough all the time.

Creativity saved me.

When I was growing up, I think I was expected to be seen and not heard. You’re this little, nerdy kid; no one wants to hear about how sad you are. Nobody wants to hear that you feel lonely.

If I pretended to be confident all the time, that would just be a lie.

The stereotype of New Yorkers is that we’re people who avoid warm human interaction, we’re always in too much of a rush to enjoy simple things, and that we’re just generally rude.

Sometimes we get bored and want to shake up our format. It’s a luxury we have on public access – no one cares about us. It literally doesn’t matter if we fail, so sometimes we try to go really big and out of the box.

West Orange, where I grew up, is the hometown of Ian Ziering from ‘Beverly Hills, 90210,’ Scott Wolf from ‘Party of Five,’ David Cassidy from the ‘Partridge Family,’ and Mike Pitt of ‘Boardwalk Empire‘ and ‘Dawson’s Creek.’

I think so often about how, when I was starting out at UCB, Conan O’Brien was in town, and on his show back then, they sometimes did character bits, and I started getting paid to dress up as a page or a Dutch boy on his show.

Any notable moments spent on a subway usually do nothing more than expose human awfulness at its most pronounced.

I take medications every morning and night – they’re my breakfast, and they’re my dessert. I love them.

Cops are everywhere in New York City. Cars drive by every few minutes. Uniforms stand nonchalantly at street corners.

When I really have it together, I think I successfully pull off looking like the exact middle point between Macklemore and Ron Howard, only with a much bigger forehead than either of them.

In 2010, I was the star of a sitcom. It came and went pretty fast. But in the months from when I was cast in the sitcom through when it was done airing, my life did change remarkably.

I moved to Queens from New Jersey in 2004 and have continued to stick with New York to such a degree that when people ask me to explain it, I’m sometimes unable to provide an answer.

I am a stereotypical northeasterner. I’m always in a rush. I’ve attracted stares from out-of-towners when I’ve shoved past someone blocking the subway door.

There are certain fundamental things that scream, ‘I just moved to New York.’ Things like eating cheesecake at Junior‘s or heading out to Coney Island to ride the Cyclone.

Having money didn’t make me less of a socially incapable loser; it just made me a socially incapable loser who wasn’t in debt.