“Perhaps it's not that I'm frigid-- it's that once I decide I like a guy, I turn into a raging idiot, unfit for public appearances.”

“You mean I'm not lazy?No bitch, I mean you intimidate guys with a look or a comment before they can even decide if they have a chance with you. You're so judgmental. Along with frigid.”

“Once again, he does something and I can't decide if it's sweet, if it's perverted, or if it's criminal.”

“I figure God's a creative guy. So when he comes down and lives with us in disguise, he can't help leaking creations here and there. Either that or he's an idiot. I haven't decided yet. Not a normal idiot- an idiot savant. God, idiot savant, what's the difference?”

“Once desire was turned on, combustion gave it a life of its own. Once it was turned on it became a raging wildfire, uncontrollable and uncontainable, the type of conflagration that had to be allowed to burn itself out.”

“But when I am around strangers, I turn into a conversational Mount St. Helens. I'm dormant, dormant, quiet, quiet, old-guy loners build log cabins on the slopes of my silence and then, boom, it's 1980. Once I erupt, they'll be wiping my verbal ashes off their windshields as far away as North Dakota.”