Say it, woman."
"It. Woman."
"God, you're a pain.

Tried be cheerful, tried be upbeat, tried not to let my feelings show, not to blame him, not to mind when day after day, week after week, his nonchalance eroded my heart. Sometimes, being an optimist was quite the fucking effort.

Stop smiling. Every time you smile, an angel dies.

Humor writing requires a rhythm and timing, as well as some kind of connection to the reader, and I think that's how I tap into it.

She smiled, and there it was again, that aching pressure in his chest. Love, or a heart attack. Kind of the same thing.

When an eighty-five pound mammal licks your tears away, then tries to sit on your lap, it's hard to feel sad.