You know what, Boomer?…You restore my faith in humanity. And lately I’ve been thinking that a guy can do far, far worse than surrounding himself with people who restore his faith in humanity.
All I ever think about is food or sex.
I lost myself immediately in one of the books, only emerging when the phone rang.
and everything about me goes from crying out to just plain crying
Everyone on this island wants something kept quiet.
I want to roar
This is about as far as I can go without some sarcasm creeping in. But before it does, I must say, with utmost sincerity, that your cookies are good enough to bring some of these wax statues back to life. Thanks for that. I once made corn muffins for a fourth-grade project on Williamsburg and they came out like baseballs. So I’m not sure how to reciprocate… but, believe me, I shall.
I mean, they’re only the best punk band out there right now, named for the fucking apathy of a xenophobic fucking nation oblivious to the fucking terror its leaders wreak on the rest of the world because they’re too busy worrying if their cat might be stuck up a tree or something.
All this hoping for nothing-or someone-that’s maybe hopeless
Dash is getting very frisky in here with me, Mark.” What I wanted to say was I wish Dash was getting frisky in here with me.
Dash raised an eyebrow at me again.
“No he’s not,” Mark said.
“How do you know?”
“Because if he was, you wouldn’t be calling me to rescue you right now, Googly Eyes.
I guess I’m nervous to be meeting you,