“And that’s why we’re sending Boobs McGee.”I slowly swiveled my head to glare at Catcher. “Seriously. You’re, what, twelve now?”***“Then I guess that settles that,” I agreed. “My boobs and I will go.”

“You’re a teenage boy. I have boobs. What part of the equation is missing?”

“You're flying to Chicago to get drunk and have other women shake their boobs in your face.""If it bothers you, I won't go," he said seriously."No," I kicked at the table leg. "It doesn't bother me. Maybe I'm just jealous.""Jealous? You're not the jealous type.""Maybe I want boobs shaken in my face.”

“I have boobs!" Chloe said again, a bit too loudly— she'd already had a couple of mini bottles at the Spot. "My boobs are great, goddammit. You know that? They're fantastic! My boobs are amazing.”

“I mean, really, can someone answer this for me: Why are all female superheroes packed into spandex and hot shorts? Okay, of course I know the answer. I know why they’re all scantily clad. It’s because men draw them and if there is one thing men love it’s boobs! And legs! And boobs! But really what they love is boobs.”

“I will say that I still can't get over how women are shaped, and that I will go to my grave wanting to pet their butts and boobs.”