“I fought the mighty urge to watch her put it on. My libido had just burst out of the closet and was tripping over furniture yelling, "Who? What? Where?" (Please excuse him. He doesn't get out much)”

“And then Dieter was like, 'Over my dead body!'"And I was thinking my roomie was about to get his wish."And then Rei got super vampy and was like, 'Yield to my power!'"And then Dieter started grunting and looked super uncomfortable."And then Rei took a step forward."And then Dieter dropped to his knees, but a moment later he started going 'Reee!'"And I was like, 'Oh, for the love of God, please don't kill me.'"And then Rei walked over and elbowed him in the head...."That's about it. Oh, and there were grenades.”

“Rei glanced over at me and nodded. “Exactly, Dieter. Just avoid having the cattle and keep walking.” I cleared my throat. “A cow. It’s ‘don’t have a cow.’” Rei frowned. “I fail to see why it must be a female.”

“Stumbling out of the debris cloud, I ran smack into Jules."What the hell did ya do?" she asked in exasperation. "I mean, I only left ya alone for thirty minutes and---""Not me, Boss!" I gasped,coughing up some drywall."Monique. Rei. Schoolhouse-rumble.""Oi," Jules said, face-palming."For the love of the spirit, what for?"I dusted myself off. "Street cred, yo. Street cred.”

“Her hair was bright red, her skin, pale, and I can't explain why, but something about her shouted, 'I heart granola.' She belonged in one of those commercials for asthma medicines. The one with two women skipping through the park as the voiceover says, "With my uncontrollable gasping under control, I'm free as a bird!”

“I spilled my cup of coffee straight onto my crotch. Superior heat retention has its drawbacks. I grimaced as the scalding liquid reached ground zero, but as I did my best to angle my jeans away from the Resnick family's last hope, my seatmate decided to dispose of her hoodie.I juggled two pressing needs:1) Protect the nethers.2) Leer”

“To pass the time, I made valiant strides in my effort to read Ulysses, but feared I was losing the war. A hundred pages in, I was getting the sneaking suspicion that James Joyce might have been an asshole, and by Nebraska I was in a foul mood.”