I like to think of my books and the movies of my books living in two separate universes. Each is very nice, but only one is correct - the book. But that doesn't mean you can't enjoy the other versions, and I always do.

I won’t tell you how I managed to break in, since I don’t want the authorities figuring out, but let’s just say that if you’re going to make a gate, make sure it reaches all the way to the ground.

It’s my own fault, really. For believing in fairy tales. Not that I ever mistook them for actual historical fact, or anything. But I did grow up believing that for every girl, there’s a prince out there somewhere. All she has to do is find him. Then it’s on with the happily ever after. So you can only imagine what happened when I found out. That my prince really IS one. A prince. No, I really mean it. He’s an actual PRINCE.

> CracKing: No need to yell. > FtLouie: I’m not yelling!!! > CracKing: You’re using excessive amounts of punctuation, and on-line, that’s like yelling.

Yeah,” Nicole said, her straw noisily hitting the bottom of her Gut Buster. “Well, I would have appreciated it if you guys had wrecked a little less stuff. Because my house smelled like smoke for months. And construction on the Tarantinos’ new garage starts at eight on the dot every morning, and it’s still going on, and you know how I get if I don’t have my full ten hours of beauty sleep.” “So that’s what happened to your face,” Cody said. “I was wondering.

Lana says J.P. makes Matt Damon from the Bourne movies look like Oliver from Hannah Montana

Also, I think I felt something come loose back there. I'm not trying to overreact or anything but I think it was my uterus. Honest. I think my uterus jiggled free. My uterus is just going to come out between my legs and I'm going to look like I'm walking around with an enormous load in my pants.