Death is a lot like prom – loud, overdone, and although the guy you came with was cool, you never know who’ll end up taking you home.

I felt my heart expanding, making room for him to movie in permanently.

I frowned at him. “Isn’t sarcasm the opiate of the masses?””You’re thinking of religion,” he replied. “Sarcasm is the Xanax of the morally bereft.

You’re the most annoying girl on the planet. You make me want to throw myself off a bridge. And, unfortunately, I am one hundred percent, head-over-heels, crazy in love with you.

You give frequent flyer miles with that guilt trip?

Caring about him was like trying to love a tree stump – a cold, mean-spirited paternalistic tree stump. With fungus.