“Deep down, underneath all his layers of stupidity, he’s a really goodman. He may act out far too many selfish thoughts, says all the wrong thingsat all the wrong times, but behind closed doors he’s a best friend. I understandthat he has idiotic tendencies and I can still love him for it. He may notbe someone that you feel comfortable sitting next to at a dinner party but forme, he’s someone that I feel comfortable sharing my life with.”

“Rosie: Sorry about that, Randy Andy here wouldn’t let me leave the office.Ruby: Oh he is such a slave driver! You should complain to head office, getthe asshole fired.Rosie: He is head office.Ruby: Oh yeah.Rosie: Well in all fairness Ruby, he may be a prick but we did just take abreak an hour ago . . . and it was our third one in less than threehours . . .Ruby: You are turning into one of THEM!Rosie: I have a child to feed.Ruby: As do I.Rosie: That child feeds himself, Ruby.Ruby: Ah leave my little fatso alone. He’s my baby and I love him regardless.Rosie: He’s 17.”

“I thought that it was 'cause I deserved the best and he's out there. He's just with all the wrong women. And let me be clear. After CENTURIES of men looking at my tits in stead of my eyes and pinching my ass instead of shaking my hand, I now have the *DIVINE* right to stare at a man's BACKSIDE with vulgar, cheap appreciation if I want to!”

“I lost my dad. He lost his tomorrows and I lost all the tomorrows with him. You could say that now, I appreciate them when they come. Now, I want to make them the best they can possibly be.”

“My “Best Woman” speechGood evening everyone, my name is Rosie and as you can see Alex hasdecided to go down the non-traditional route of asking me to be his bestwoman for the day. Except we all know that today that title does not belongto me. It belongs to Sally, for she is clearly his best woman.I could call myself the “best friend” but I think we all know that todaythat title no longer refers to me either. That title too belongs to Sally.But what doesn’t belong to Sally is a lifetime of memories of Alex thechild, Alex the teenager, and Alex the almost-a-man that I’m sure he wouldrather forget but that I will now fill you all in on. (Hopefully they all willlaugh.)I have known Alex since he was five years old. I arrived on my first dayof school teary-eyed and red-nosed and a half an hour late. (I am almost sureAlex will shout out “What’s new?”) I was ordered to sit down at the back ofthe class beside a smelly, snotty-nosed, messy-haired little boy who had thebiggest sulk on his face and who refused to look at me or talk to me. I hatedthis little boy.I know that he hated me too, him kicking me in the shins under the tableand telling the teacher that I was copying his schoolwork was a telltale sign.We sat beside each other every day for twelve years moaning about school,moaning about girlfriends and boyfriends, wishing we were older and wiser and out of school, dreaming for a life where we wouldn’t have double mathson a Monday morning.Now Alex has that life and I’m so proud of him. I’m so happy that he’sfound his best woman and his best friend in perfect little brainy and annoyingSally.I ask you all to raise your glasses and toast my best friend Alex and hisnew best friend, best woman, and wife, Sally, and to wish them luck andhappiness and divorce in the future.To Alex and Sally!”

“It’s hard for everyone isn’t it? Anyone who says it’s easy is a liar. There’sthis huge divide between me and Alex right now because I feel like we’re livingin such different worlds, I don’t know what to talk about with him anymore.And we used to be able to talk all night. He phones once a week and Ilisten to what he’s been up to during the week and try to bite my tongueevery time I go into another Katie story. Truth is I have nothing other to talkabout but her and I know it bores people. I think I used to be interestingonce upon a time.”

“I wonder if my watching him from the armchair is what it's like to be God, if there is a God. He sits back and sees the big picture, just as I could see that if the bluebottle just moved up a few inches, he'd be free. He wasn't really trapped at all, he was just looking in the wrong place. I wondered if God could see a way out for me and Mum. If I can see the open window for the bluebottle, maybe God can see the tomorrows for me and Mum. That idea brings me comfort. Well, it did, until I left the room and returned a few hours later to see a dead bluebottle on the windowsill. Then to show you where my mind is right now, I started crying...Then I got mad at God because in my head the death of that bluebottle meant Mum and I might never find our way out of this mess. What good is it being so far back you can see everything and yet not do anything to help?Then I realized this: I had tried to help the bluebottle, but it wouldn't let me. And then I felt sorry for God because i understood how it must be frustrating for him. He offers people a helping hand, but it often gets pushed away. People always want to help themselves first.”