Give it up? Not likely. Besides, what else would I do? I totally should have gone to Hogwart's when I had the chance.
Can I jump in your body and make out with my wife through you?” I fought a grin. “It doesn’t really work that way.” “Then can you just make out with my wife and pretend I’m in your body?” “No.” “I can pay. I have money.” “How much we talking?
Ambulances were cool. “You just want to fondle my extraneous body parts,” I said to the EMT as I picked up a silver gadget that looked disturbingly like an alien orifice probe, broke it, then promptly put it back, hoping it wouldn’t leave someone’s life hanging in the balance because the EMT couldn’t alien-probe his orifices.
Where am I going and why am I in this handbasket? ~Bumper sticker~
―You realize I can hear you without the annoying intercom. Cookie and I both leaned forward and looked at each other through the doorway. ―But this is more fun, I said. ―More Star Trekkie.
Cookie dropped her purse and tried to catch it midair. In the process, she knocked over a vase. When she lunged for the vase, she slipped on the tile and overturned an entire table. A lovely handblown piece of glass flew in my direction, and all I could think as I caught it was, Really? Again? We were going to have to practice muscle control.
Can I brush your hair?” she asked as she led the way, her disposition doing a 180 on a dime. Kids. Can’t live with ’em. Can’t eat ’em for lunch.
You can’t have him, okay,” she said from behind the wire barrier. “Mm-hmm,” I whispered. “This is certainly a beautiful neighborhood.” “Yeah, I guess.” “I will scratch those eyes out of your ugly head.
Did you get checked out?” “Yeah, by a hot blond who sat in the corner of the bar and made googly eyes at me.” “I meant by a doctor.” “No, but a balding yet bizarrely hot paramedic said I’d be fine." “Oh, and he’s an expert?” “At flirting.
Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong. -T-Shirt
Garret Swopes was a lot like a hot gay friend only he wasn't gay, which was too bad because then I could tell him how hot he was without him getting the wrong idea.
SARC- was my second favorite -ASM word
There was nothing like a trip to the gynecologist to make one feel just a little violated. Charley
What do I look like, the ghost whisperer? They're loony. I'd have better luck talking to my cousin Alfonso's Chihuahua. At least Tía Juana knows Spanish." "Your cousin's Chihuahua is named Tía Juana?
If Cameron kidnaps you, kills you, then buries your lifeless body in a shallow grave in the desert where your remains lay decomposing for several decades until they're accidentally discovered by some guy on a journey to awaken his spirit at the Salinas Pueblo Missions, can I have your iMac?" I gaped at her. "You've really thought this out. "I love your iMac." "I love my iMac too, and you're not getting her." "But you'll be decomposing.
Maybe I needed sensitivity training. I once signed up for an anger management class, but the instructor pissed me off.
Reyes leaned back against the bar, crossed his arms over his chest, and studied me from beneath those same ridiculously long lashes. Men and their freaking lashes. It was so unfair. Like the exorbitant cost of designer shoes. Or world hunger.
After searching for a space, I parked behind the tattoo parlor in front of a sign that said NO PARKING. Since it didn't specify to whom it was referring, I figured it couldn't possibly be talking to me.
Rocket," I said, straightening in the chair. "Donovan was just helping me with my contacts." Donovan raised his brows humorously. Rocket furrowed his. "Did you swallow them?
My real mom died when I was born—hemorrhaged to death while giving birth to me, which has never been one of my favorite memories—and Dad married Denise before I’d turned a year. Without even asking my opinion on the matter. Denise and I never really clicked.
...and then she glared at me, the same glare my stepmother used to give me when I gave her the Nazi salute. That woman was so touchy about her resemblance to Hitler.
She didn't smile back. Not even a little. I totally needed to read that book on how to win friends and influence people. But that would involve an innate desire to win friends and influence people.
“Time-out,” I said... He twisted his hand around and wound his fingers into mine. “You‘re putting me in time-out?” “Yes,” I said as a shaky sigh slid through my lips. “If I don't go, do I get a spanking?”
You rented the apartment with a dead guy in the corner?” I shrugged. “I wanted the apartment, and I figured I could cover him up with a bookcase or something.
Dude,” I said, leaning over the desk, “I’m about as psychic as a carrot.
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