You're the little spoon, aren't you?

I have people in my life, of course. Some write; some don't. Some read; some don't. Some stare vacantly into space when I talk the geeky talk and walk the geeky walk, but they make killer chocolate chip pancakes and so all is forgiven.

Lies were like acid, corrosive: They could dissolve trust in a heartbeat.

What're you still doing up? You know all good little ninjas should be in bed, visions of homicidal sugarplums dancing in their heads.

I raised another shot. "That sound you hear is the heads of moral conservatives spontaneously exploding in the distance.

People--stupid when they lived; potentially stupid when they died.

All I cared was that she had never lied. She was honest in a world just the opposite, and a cool oasis in my life. She was who she said she was, and everything Sophia, my mother, the pathologically manipulative liar, had never been.