“God,” I moaned. “Do they use that stuff as rocket fuel?”“No one made you keep drinking it.”“Hey, don’t get preachy. Besides, I had to be polite.”“Sure,” she said.”

“And the whole time, people kept refilling my cup. Determined not to look like an idiot again, I kept drinking until I could finally take the vodka down without coughing or spitting. I stood, finding it much harder to do than I'd expected. The world wobbled, and my stomach wasn't very happy with me. Someone caught a hold of my arm and steadied me. "Easy," said Sydney. "Don't push it." Slowly, carefully, she led me toward the house. "God," I moaned. "Do they use that stuff as rocket fuel?" "No one made you keep drinking it." "Hey, don't get preachy. Besides, I had to be polite." "Sure," she said.”

“now look, she said, stretched out on the bed, I don’t want anything personal, let’s just do it, I don’t want to get involved, got it? she kicked off her high-heeled shoes… sure, he said, standing there, let’s just pretend that we’ve already done it, there’s nothing less involved than that, is there? what the hell do you mean? she asked. I mean, he said, I’d rather drink anyhow. and he poured himself one. it was a lousy night in Vegas and he walked to the window and looked out at the dumb lights. you a fag? she asked, you a god damned fag? no, he said. you don’t have to get shitty,...”

“We had this talk,” she said. “You may be dead sexy, and I mean, like, really dead and really sexy, but you don’t get to tell me what to do. Right? And no head-shrinker stuff, either, or I swear to God, I’ll pack my shit and move!”

“In Anger Management,' he said,'we had to do all this role-playing stuff. You know, to get used to handling things in a less volatile way.''You role-played,' I said, trying to picture this.'I had to. It was court-ordered.”

“Hey, do you know what you call a blond with a brain?" I asked, and the continued on the same breath, "a golden retriever."I've heard that one, too," she said, no longer smiling.I'll keep trying." I promised.”