Every single person is a fool, insane, a failure, or a bad person to at least ten people.
Some men’s chests are more buttlike than some women’s butts.
Art can blow us out of our pigeon hole. In deafness it may shout or scream, in blindness it may arrest our attention, in numbness it may shake up our mind. If we don’t sense anything at all and take everything for granted, art can kick us in the ass, give a conscience and make us aware. ("When is Art?")
What the hell was that?” he asked no-one in particular. “Did they ram us?”“Uh – negative, sir.” Marnetti offered, reading an instrumental assessment from his display, “It seems we were hit by some kind of pulse wave generated by their jump.”“Their jump? – You mean by arriving they nearly killed us?”Marnetti nodded, continuing, “Range 0.5 kilometers, Captain. Holding steady. No recognized weapons activity.”“Damage report.” He ordered, feeling his way back into his seat, eyes glued to the viewscreen.“Shield 2 down, 1 is buckling.” Pluddeman choked.“Power stable, all systems holding steady,” Marnetti added, now rubbing some bruises.“Any communications?”“Nothing, sir. Static on all frequencies.”“What are they doing?”“Nothing, sir. Waiting maybe.”“Waiting, my ass!” Dayne barked. “They must be sizing us up!
Someday, I’ll gain telepathic powers like every other regular movie ghost and I will go all Freddie Krueger on his bony, little, rat arse!”I rolled my eyes, but kept marching down the street.“Then I’d have to go all Ghostbusters on yours.”, I tried to keep my voice low to keep from drawing attention to myself.“No, you wouldn’t. You love my arse, darling!”, he walked backwards few feet in front of me.His big smile was enough to make me grin and roll my eyes again at him.
I'm the perfect girl. You read about me in Maxim or whatever. I tell dirty jokes like I'm one of the guys, and I'm sitting there in my panties and bra so you can see I'm a piece of ass in the bargain. Except I'm real, so I come with all kinds of complications.