Here I am, just wandering down a deserted street in the middle of the night. I hope I don't run into any trouble. Goodness, that would just ruin my whole evening." I strolled and hummed, trying to project Innocent Victim.

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

Elizabeth Anne Taylor April 25, 1974 - April 25, 2004 Our Sweetheart, Only resting

I walked in on my folks doing it doggy style less than four hours ago." "Waitress!" Jonas screamed, clicking his fingers madly. "Bring two!" then, more quietly,"You want a neck massage? A bedtime story? A bullet in the ear?

Majesty, I beg your forgiveness for the idignity you suffered and offer you the head of our enemy as—" "Put that thing down," I said impatiently. "I can't talk to you when you're shaking his head like a damned maraca.

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.

I—I adore you, too. Well, I don't know if I adore you. That's not really the word I'd use. But I—I—" I managed to wrench it out. God, this was hard! "I love you." "Of course you do," he said, totally unsurprised. "WHAT? I finally tell you my deepest, most personal feelings and you're all, 'Yeah, I already got that memo'? This, this is why you drive me nuts! This is why it's so hard to tell you things! I take it back.