“I wish we had a gondolier,” she whispered romantically.
“It’s just a small pie!” she said, tartly.
“I might have gotten you virtual flowers, and I might not have,” she said, evasively.
“I’m going to molest your, um…well…” she said, groping for words.
“Tell me I’ve gotten some color! I’ve been to hell!” she said, satanically.
“I’ve got friends who have their hands on the levers of power. Gross friends! And they’re going to use those levers on my behalf!” she said, politically.
“I want to be a flight attendant, or fix bicycle wheels,” she said in a plainspoken manner.
“I’m a primate! Don’t I look cute?” she asked, girlishly.
“I’m an angry drunk! Don’t I look cute?” she asked, girlishly.
“Maybe we could make some money by getting my nephews to do some corrective follow-up landscaping in the first hours of the morning,” she said, entrepreneurially.
“Now I’m naked from the waist down!” she shouted, expansively.
“I was deep in thought considering all the money you’re going to give me, but I’m not thinking about much anymore,” she said, expensively.
“Camping is over. The circus is over. Living in the dessert is over. The traveling craft-fair is over. The evangelical tour is over,” she said extensively.
“It’s my considered diagnosis, I’m getting droopy,” she expertly opined.
“If you think MY shirt’s been torn, you should see my other boyfriend’s!” she shrieked, hysterically.
“I may have a black eye, but the other guy has an empty socket!” she laughed maniacally.
“I’m going to be eating alone,” she said wanly.
“I’ve been given the gift of long legs,” she said, solemnly.
The Way She Said It
She Had More To Say, and How She Said It