Some people say Earth is the bottom level of Purgatory.' She pointed toward the floor and frowned.'I call it the top floor of Hell.

You wish for what's called wooing. This customary game, where the man shows the woman that resistance is impractical, strikes me as quite pointless.

Just in front of her lay the Congaree Swamp National Forest. To prove it, a mosquito the size of a kitten landed on her arm and prepared to drill.

I'm twenty-nine, happily single and getting it on a regular basis' I said, enjoying the way their thin lips hung open in an impressive O.'Well I've never,' Jane gasped.'Clearly. You should try it some time. I understand Mr Smith is so vision impaired you might have a shot there.'Their appalled shrieks were music to my ears and I quickly made my escape.

Do you mind if we leave here so I can chain smoke 'til I throw up so it will be easier to quit?

While I had no intention of hooking up with him, I still wanted him to want to hook up with me.It was the principle of the thing, after all.

I've also been known to cry during MasterCard commercials.

I could run, too, but my feet hurt. It's tough being a fashion vixen.

Wait until you meet my family. At Thanksgiving, we kill everything we can find, put it into a pot, and call it 'holiday gumbo'.

Hubert's wife, Mindy, was a tiny powerhouse of a woman with a halo of wild blond hair and eye makeup so complex it took me a while to locate her pupils. She was clearly the brains of the operation, such as she was.

I held it together for the rest of the drive home but as soon as Kelsey dropped me off I flopped face down on the couch and sobbed like a reality TV star on confessional day.

He was always 'checking in' to see if I needed any help with my campaign, which on the surface seemed nice enough, but it was done in a condescending tone that made me want to staple his lip to his tie.

If one is going to spend her afternoon singing hymns to the great porcelain goddess, she might as well do it in a really plush ladies room. Stupid fear of public speaking.

Leave before I have to rip your eyes out with my dull Lady Bic razor.

She wasn't the type. Her idea of exercise was lifting a fork.

...I supplied in a tone so saccharine that it should have tipped him off that his testicular health was in serious peril.

Ophelia was beating some poor underling for not knowing her arse from the sparse collection of cells between her ears.

This look said I was uncomfortably near some line. Nikos had a lot of lines, all hidden. If you shot a marble in on one side of his personality, instead of coming out the other it would bounce on secret internal walls and shoot out in some unpredictable way. I suspected some of those ways were deadly.

Annabelle was practically standing on my back. It was like wearing an Annabelle backpack.