I may not have any skeletons in my closet, but I do have a little box of souls in my sock drawer. —T-SHIRT

Your existence gives me a headache. Go stand over there.

Want coffee?" I asked, as I headed that way. "It's three thirty in the morning." "Okay. Want coffee?

Before I tell you, I have to know three things," I said. "Okay." "One, are you sitting down?" "Yes." "Two, are you mentally stable?" "More than you'll ever be." Well, that was uncalled for. "And three, how do you spell schizophrenia?" "What does that have to do with anything?" "Nothing. I just wanted to see if you'd tell me.

After a geological epoch passed in which single-celled organisms evolved into talk show hosts, Mr. Coffee was still holding out on me.

You can't fix stupid, but you can numb it was a 2 by 4.--T-SHIRT

He’d actually hit me! It didn’t matter that hitting me wasn’t really like hitting a regular girl and I’d be completely healed in a matter of hours. I was still a freaking girl, and he damned well knew it. I’d just have to hit him back. With a lead pipe. Or an eighteen-wheeler.