Nick can do a pretty good nice, but it's not the real deal. His is a thin, watery nice, a niceness-au-jus drizzled over a great big asshole sandwich.

God, there's nothing like embarrassing a ginger to improve my mood

I pull out a zippered CD case, but unfortunately, it's slim pickens inside, and I say this not only because the choices are bad, which they are, but because there actually is a Slim Pickens CD inside.

As far as I'm concerned, there are two types of people in this world: people like Queeg who, when life gives them lemons make lemonade, and everyone else. And although those smug lemonade-makers think the rest of us just sit around all day day bitching about not getting oranges, they're wrong. It's all about volume. When you're ass-deep in lemons, you start looking for a shovel, not a pitcher and a cup of sugar

JJ informed me, when he dropped them off, that they are French bulldogs, which has led med to reassess my opinion of the French. They may know a lot about making wine and fries, but they don't know jacques-merde about making dogs.

I don't know what she's thinking, but I'm thinking how fluid the border is between crazy and interesting, and how hard it is to decide who belongs where.