Best 19 quotes of Dani Alexander on MyQuotes

At some point all of this is going to catch up with me,” I said. “What is?” “Gay, boyfriend, job loss, career in the toilet, gay, criminals in my house, criminals in my bed.” “You said the gay thing twice.” “It deserves double billing.

Clean," Peter said. "Can I get a water bottle or something to clean his hands?" I scanned the crowd. He drew my attention back to him with a pull of my hand. "No," Peter said. "I'm...clean." I had missed who Peter was until that very moment... I broke. It wasn't a visible fracture. I didn't sob or explode into anguish. I didn't give in to my vomitus urge that came from the burst of self-loathing. But I shattered nonetheless. "Well, you look filthy," I said, hitting redial on his phone and jamming it to my ear.

Do you know why I like dogs and not cats? Because when you’re talking to dogs, they don’t walk away in order to rim themselves. ~Austin to Cai's cat Begone Cai's, also known as the "fucking hairball with the crazies.

Do you know what I did to the last guy that called me Tinkerbelle?" "Slept with him?" Darryl was silent for a second. "After that.

Fucking cracker,” Alvarado hissed as he was shoved into the patrol car. “Aw, that’s discrimination, right there.” I feigned hurt. “See, I see you as scumbag first, Alvarado. Or dick-cheese. Scumsucking pedophile. Asshole. The fact that you’re Hispanic doesn’t even factor into it.

Gay sex, one. Straight sex, zero

Gay Sex Three, Straight Sex Nil

I had one friend with same-sex orientation, and Dana hadn't spoken to me since I asked her to describe her honeymoon in graphic detail—and then made vibrator noises.

I was going to be mature about this. And ignore him.

Out of curiosity, when do I grow up and become a fullfledged man with a penis?” “When words like ‘hump day’ don’t make you giggle like a twelve-year-old,” he retorted, blowing smoke my way. “Wow, that long?

People aren't always who they seem, Detective. Am I anything like you thought?" "No," I admitted. You're a million times better than I could have imagined.

Peter to Austin: "Hard-ons don't make you think less. They make you think stupid. Which makes me think you must have one 24/7.

Tell me something good about your life," I whispered, needing to hear that he wasn't as broken as I thought him to be. Peter breathed into the handset for about two minutes. I began wondering if he was about to hang up, or had fallen asleep, when he answered. "You." It was so quiet I almost didn't hear it. And then he hung up before I could ask him to repeat himself. I fell asleep, grinning, with the phone still clutched in my hand and my milk souring on the coffee table.

Then I guess the rest of my life will be resigned to doggy style sex." The words were out of my mouth before I could think about them. "I mean however long...when we're...that wasn't a fucking proposal." "Okay." "Don't smile that. Smugness doesn't become you." "Okay." "Scoot the fuck over. You're hogging the bed." Austin and Peter. :')

What is wrong with you?” He glared at me. “I’m somewhat sure I’m suddenly gay,” I shrugged, “My father and mother are hypocritical abandoning homophobic assholes. The former defending my chief suspect in the biggest case of my life—something I’m sure you had a hand in. I’m obsessed with your freckles, your bunny slippers and your lips—which I should be getting points for not kissing while you’re incapacitated, by the way. I’m dating a whore while working on the vice squad—points to me again for not arresting your ass for that—and I’m ridiculously horny. Oh, and my fiancée won’t talk to me.

What the fuck are you doing with your life?” “Dating hookers, learning the gay, housing criminals, pissing off my fellow cops, and taking in what everyone says is a cat, but which I’m definitely sure is not a cat. I’m undecided on its actual species. I think it’s a cross between a rat and some kind of alien life—

When I was in eighth grade, I used a self-timing camera to take nude pictures of myself in various stages of erection. I then exchanged my biology teacher’s slides with the images. The teacher, in a state of panic, kept rapidly pressing the ‘next’ button. It was like a pornographic flip-book. That was the last straw in a very heavy pile of straws. I was expelled, and I ended up transferring mid-year from boarding school to a public school near home.

Whiskey, glass, pour, toss back, glare. Repeat. “Cop out,” I slurred in retaliation, pointing the empty glass at Peter. “Don’t get drunk. Fuck. I need you sober,” he yelled, snatching the glass out of my hand. “There’s the problem right there. You need me sober. You need my help. You need something from me.” I laughed, tossing the bottle on the sofa, ignoring the glug glug glug as it emptied over my cushions. “And I just need you.” “Need me to what?” He asked with a huff, tipping the bottle right-side up. “Nothing. I just need you,” I whispered and flopped into a nearby recliner.

Your daughter is gay? Where are all these gay people coming from? Gay friends. Gay daughters of friends. Gay sisters-in-law. Gay suspects. I ask one guy for a kiss and suddenly I’m living in Ancient Greece.