“[D]id you ever notice how friendships are a lot like pop songs? They are for girls, anyway. First there's the newness of it, the melody that streams into your head and makes you wonder ― will I like this song? Then come the vocals, what the song's heart truly sounds like, and with it the song's purpose, it's lyrics ― will they say something meaningful about my life? Will these words help me through a difficult time, or create a memory that will make me smile whenever I hear this song again?”

“The time between your first major fight with your best friend until you make up is, for a teenage girl, about as long as it took for God to create the universe. . . . It's excellent training for having a boyfriend.”

“Beat sprouts," I croaked, ashamed I'd reached a point in my life where I had to make decisions like choosing between bean sprouts or potato chips (and then going with fucking bean sprouts!).”

“Faith is a luxury for those who are able to ignore what the rest of us must see every day. Pessimism, distrust, and irony are the holy trinity of my religion, irony in particular.”

“There is no elegy for those who have been dispossessed of their anger--what remains is a future carved out of banality instead of blood.”

“When I think about my clone, random songs pop into my head. Songs like, “Happy Birthday.” Will he celebrate the same birthday as me? He’d better, because without me, there’d be nothing for him to celebrate.”

“I wrote a song called "Stinky Sodomite." It isn't a pop song, a historical song, or a song condemning homosexuality. Rather, it is a children's song that teaches them how to count. In fact, the only time the words "Stinky Sodomite" appear in the song is in the title. Other tracks on the educational CD include "The Ratio of Fellatio," "Thomas Jefferson's Johnson," and "It's Never Too Early to Ask Your Father About His First Erection.”