"She said what? Oh, I'm so going to beat her ass. Yeah, that's right. Beat her ass. She can't be going around saying things about me. She knows who I am. I got connections."

"Icebergs melting. It sucks."

"Man, this whole fucking aisle smells like dirty diapers. What'd you guys do, sit around here all day and fart?"
"No, check email. Mostly."

"I knew these guys that went to high school in Santa Cruz, and they carved a bong into a park bench. It was awesome."

"Grandma, you could do water aerobics. That wouldn't hurt your knees."
"I'm eighty-five. What's the point?"

"When we liberated France, we were not screwing all the women like some of these guys talk about. Hell, we all had diarrhea. You see, the history books fail to mention that all of us bombers had castor oil running in the engines, and the smoke inhalation gave us all the trots."

"I'm going out to see the sunset."
"That's nice."
"Yeah, I've never seen it out at the beach. I've lived in Oakland for nearly sixty-seven years, and I've never made it out to the beach to see the sunset. I hear it's beautiful."
"Absolutely."
"Life just passes you by, you know. And here I am, out to see the sunset. You know what time the sun goes down?"
"I don't know. Around six."
"What? Ah, poop. I'm not going to make it."

"You're really striking. Beautiful, I mean."
"Thank you."
"Usually, I don't find Chinese women to be striking. But you really are."

"There's something sticky on my thumb. I can't get it off."
"What'd you do?"
"Nothing. I mean, I was messing around with some tape this weekend, but that's it. This really sucks. I've washed my hands and everything. It just keeps feeling sticky. I don't like it, you know?"
"Yeah."