“Mmm, butt bagels." Elody reaches into the bag and pulls out a bagel, half squashed, then makes a big deal of taking an enormous bite out of it. "Taste like Victoria's Secret.""Taste like thong floss," I say."Taste like crack," Lindsay says."Taste like fart," Elody says, and Lindsay spits coffee on the dashboard, and I start laughing and can't stop, and all the way to school we're thinking of flavors for butt bagels, and I'm thinking that this---my life, my friends---might be weird or screwy or imperfect or damaged or whatever, but it's never seemed better to me.”

“Daddy, how come in Kansas City the bagels taste like just round bread?”

“I drink coffee sometimes, but Starbucks’ coffee tastes like burnt ass,” I say.“Actually, it tastes nothing like burnt ass, Anna.”“And how would you know what burnt ass tastes like?”He laughs. “That’s for me to know…and you to find out.”I’m not sure I want to find out, but whatever.”

“I see ridiculous stories about my butt, like how it has been insured. I feel like saying, "Hey, everyone has a butt. It's not that big a deal!" But I suppose it's flattering. Personally, I've always loved the curvy look. Even when I was a little girl and all my friends would be like, "Oh, my god, your butt's so big." And I'd say, "I love it.”

“Saying I don't take my meds because they make me feel funny. Is like cannibals saying they don't eat clowns because the taste funny”

“Ben starts. "I Spy with my little eye something I really like.""Oh I know," Radar says. "It's the taste of balls.""No.""Is it the taste of penises?" I guess."No, dumbass.""Hmm," says Radar. "Is it the smell of balls?""The texture of balls?”