I Looked Over At Him. "is That

I Received Rejection Letters For Ten Years (one On A Napkin, Written In Crayon.) I Had All My Rejection Notices Stored In A Box. When The Box Was Finally Full I Took It To The Curb And Set It On Fire. The Next Day I Went Out And Got A Temp Job.

Sorry About Bender," Lula Said, Letting The Trans Am Idle At The Curb. "maybe We Could Tell Vinnie He Died. We Could Say We Were All Set To Bring Bender In, And He Died. Bang. Dead As A Doorknob." "better Yet, Why Don't We Just Go Back And Kill Him," I Said. I Opened The Door To Leave, Caught My Toe In The Floor Mat, And Fell Out Of The Car, Face First. I Rolled Onto My Back And Stared Up At The Stars. "i'm Fine," I Said To Lula. "maybe I'll Sleep Here Tonight.

Men!" "at Least We Don't Fake It." "listen, It Was Your Uncle. And We Were Late, Remember? So I Made The Sacrifice And Got Us There In Time For Dessert. You Should Be Thanking Me." Morelli's Mouth Was Open Slightly And His Face Was Registering A Mixture Of Astonished Disbelief And Wounded, Pissed-off Male Pride. Okay, It Wasn't That Much Of A Sacrifice At The Time, And I Knew He Shouldn't Be Thanking Me, But Give Me A Break Here... This Wasn't Famine In Ethiopia

I Knew There Were No Such Things As Death Cooties. Unfortunately, That's An Intellectual Fact. And Death Cooties Are An Emotional Reality.

I'm For Sure A Workaholic. I'm A Complete Control Freak And I Take On Way Too Many Projects.