It must be hard being you,” she said. “Mr. Perfect on the outside. Dr. Evil on the inside.” “It’s not that hard. The rest of the world isn’t as insightful as you.

I take thee... to be my awful wedded husband

She gave Pretty Boy a surreptitious glance. Did he honestly expect her to believe he was gay? True, there were the gay boots and those stunning good looks. But, even so, he blasted enough heterosexual mega-wattage to light up the entire female population. Which he’d undoubtedly been doing since he shot out of the birth canal, glimpsed his reflection in the obstetrician’s eyeglasses, and gave the world a high five.

[Bobby Tom] finally understood Gracie's function in his life. She was God's joke on him.

You couldn't be satisfied with being an amateur asshole, could you, Jimbo! You had to go and turn pro on me!

Figure out what depletes you creatively and get it out out of your life. (This doesn't apply to spouse and kids.) Give yourself permission to put garbage on the screen. A lot of days it's the only way you'll be able to keep going. You can clean it up later.

She gestured toward his very fine chest with her pencil. “On the off chance I find out after we’re married that your declaration of abiding love and devotion has been an elaborate con job perpetrated by you, Bodie, and Scary Spice…” He massaged her arch. “I definitely wouldn’t lose too much sleep over that.” “Just in case. You will give me all you worldly goods, shave your head, and leave the country.” “Deal.” “Plus, you have to hand out your Sox tickets so I can burn them in front of your eyes.