“You can call me Dr. Love. I’ve got a PhD from Cupid University. My degree came with a side order of fries and a large Dr. Pepper.”

“Fix yourself something to drink," she said. "I don't have any Mr. Pepper.""You mean Dr. Pepper?""For the love of God!" She exploded. "People expect everything from a psychic! 'Doctor,' 'mister,' I was close enough. I didn't call it 'Mrs. Salt,' did I?”

“I’ve noticed that you are retarded, Dr. Phil.”

“I was washing the dishes and the sneaky bastard crept up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. And kissed me. Right here.” I pointed angrily to my neck. “Can I not have him committed or something?”Dr. Pritchard snorted. “For loving you?”I drew back, shaking my head in disgust. “Dr. Pritchard,” I admonished softly. “Whose side are you on?”“Braden’s.”

“The university awarded me my degree, but can something that’s basically worthless be properly called an award?”

“I hate Dr Phil. Dr Phil told me to express my feelings, so I'm expressing them.”