Thoughts after reading too many romance novels:

An aureole is a halo. An areola is a nipple. A woman who has aureoles on her breasts is bucking for a damned peculiar form of sainthood.

The next time a hero compliments a heroine on how tight she is, and goes on to infer that she has not been getting much of late, I'd like to see her frappé him with her superbly-toned Kegel muscles. Then she should go find a man who appreciates a woman who works out regularly.

I've been having a long visit from my old acquaintance the migraine. My husband has been doing lots of small and big nice things for me.

Me: "Thank you for doing my hair."
Him: "I like doing your hair. And your nails."
thoughtful pause
"And Bruce."