“My computer set-up is crazy. I have wireless set up on my iMac, aimed at a router, which itself is perfectly angled at another router, which in turn is angled at a sofa covered in tinfoil to bounce the signal to the original source. If you want to sit on that couch, you’d better be wearing a reflective astronaut suit, or at least a spaghetti strainer on your head. It reminds me of something Zelda told me: “The only thing tinfoil should cover is a Kiss. But you wouldn’t know anything about kissing.”

“A Kiss is a terrible name for a piece of chocolate shaped like a water droplet, because kisses are hot and would melt chocolate—even if it is wearing an astronaut suit made out of tinfoil.”

“Sleeping in a tinfoil suit keeps me warmer and helps prepare me for my voyage to the moon. Would you care for some licorice?”

“If my skin wasn’t flesh, but was tinfoil, I’d probably not only be left-handed, but I’d be a leftover. I guess the real question is, Would you rather make love to me or make dinner?”

“I covered up my mistakes—with dirt, like you’d do with any other dead bodies.”

“I’ll write the time on my wrist, and I’ll cover it up by wearing a watch.”

“If you could smell my smile, you’d nose how bad I want to kiss you. But you can’t, and I don’t.”