When it comes to girls (and in Colin's case, it so often did), everyone has a type. Colin Singleton's type was not physical but linguistic: he liked Katherines. And not Katies or Kats or Kitties or Cathys or Rynns or Trinas or Kays or Kates or, god forbid, Catherines. K-A-T-H-E-R-I-N-E. He had dated 19 girls. All of them had been named Katherine. And all of them- every single solitary one- had dumped him.

You can't dingleberry that! That's a flagrant misuse of the dingleberry!

memories fall apart too.

You are a side effect," Van Houten continued, "of an evolutionary process that cares little for individual lives. You are a failed experiment in mutation.

Anyway, that was the last good day I had with Gus until the Last Good Day.

We landed, in fact, parallel to a canal, like there were two runways: one for us and one for waterfowl.

When was the last good kiss you had?