Back off, boys. You don't want to mess with an out-of-work secretary. We're real testy.

Take your hands off her, Sinclair told the guy behind me, Or they'll write books about what I'll do to you.

It's nice to see you again, Laura." "Thank you, Mrs. T-" "No, no, no. Please, my name is-" "Mud," I suggested. "Mud Barfbag Taylor. Call her Asshat for short." ~Laura, Antonia, Betsy

I zoomed in on the shoe department like a blonde homing pigeon. Shoes, shoes everywhere! Ah, sweet shoes. I truly think you can take the measure of a civilization by looking at its footwear.

I'm rubber and you're glue," I told Satan, " and everything that bounces of me sticks to you.

I was so furious I was actually dizzy with it. There were so many bitchy, sarcastic observations to make, I was having a sarcasm stroke. "My God! You people! You're - you're so stupid you're making my eyeballs throb. They're throbbing, dammit!

My my Laura Goodman. I must say that is a charming name for a charming young lady." "Eric's old." I broke in. "Really really old." "Er— really?" Laura asked. "Gosh you don't look even out of your thirties." "Tons of face-lifts. He's a surgical addict. I'm trying to get him help." I added defensively when they both gave me strange looks.