“Sex.I was going to have sex.With a boy.A hot boy.A hot BRITISH boy.Or maybe I was going to throw up.What if I threw up on the hot British boy?What if I threw up on the hot British boy DURING SEX?”

“All I wanted was to take a hot bath, to go to sleep, and to not wake up. EVER.”

“I glanced again. He was still watching me.Look, let me just say it: He was hot. A nonhot boy stares at you relentlessly and it is, at best, awkward and, at worst, a form of assault. But a hot boy... well.”

“Have I mentioned how hot Michael is? Hot, hot, hot. I mean, all guitar players are crushworthy - it's like it's issued with the talent - but I've been noticing lately that he is total Hottie McHottie of Hotland. Not that I could tell him that. Luckily, he is a boy. Hence, too dense to figure out why I'm staring at his ass.”

“The word was out that maybe, just maybe, a British accent would fit. The hair, the skin tone and the bridgework would have to be up to American network standards, but there had been a lot of British accents up there thanking their mothers for their Oscars, a lot of British accents singing on Broadway, and some unusually big audiences tuning in to British accents in wig on Masterpiece Theatre.”

“The hot-o-meter started ringing like crazy as hot guys descended on me, my car and Tack from two directions. Boy was I glad I curled my hair.”