GPS has saved countless relationships because us men do not like to ask for directions. Now if women could only come with relationship GPS we would be one step closer to world peace.
Belief is a wonderful way to pass the time until the facts come in.
The energy I want to put out in the world is the kind of energy even people that don’t fuck with me appreciate and benefit from. Positivity is all I want in my life.
So, Shannon,” she said as she put on her seat belt. “Tell me all about yourself.” I hated to hear that question. Just once, I wished I had the girlballs to say, I work for the federal government in a department that I cannot disclose, but I can tell you that I’m trained to kill using nothing more than a toothpick. So when you say you’ll call, you damn well better do it...
Oh, dear God!” Janice bellowed and looked as though her neck was made of rubber as her head wobbled back and forth. Lou set the book back on the credenza as Janice stormed out. “Ashton, I’m sorry you had to witness that. As you well know, Mom has never been a pleasant woman. Since coming to live here, she’s been a nightmare on two legs. I’ve had her head examined, and there’s no tumor or disease to explain her behavior. The neurologist and our family doctor have simply diagnosed her as a chronic jackass.
How was practice?" Shawna asked when Jet walked into the kitchen. "You must've worked hard again, you smell like a wet puppy." "We did." Jet grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator. " Your buddy said she was proud of us today." "That's good." Shawna smiled as checked on their dinner. " Are you starting to like her now?" I don't want to beat her with my flagpole anymore, but I wouldn't say I like her. Now your other friend is all up in the punch. Mrs. Scofield was at practice today passing out chocolate milk and telling us what to do with our glitter," Jet said and took a drink of her water. Shawna glanced at Jet. "What're you going to do with the glitter?" "Put it on my eyelids. Personally, I think we're gonna look like sparkly hookers, but makeup isn't my call...
She was walking toward the beauty shop when Shay came out the door moving fast. The first thing Jill noticed was Shay’s hair and how it appeared really big. As Shay drew closer, Jill realized she looked like she was wearing a mask with big blue streaks over the eyes and giant red pouty lips. “What happened to you?” Jill asked in shock. “I’m not sure,” Shay said, looking just as stunned. “One minute, I was reading a magazine, and the next, two women that looked like Dolly Parton descended on me like vultures. They started putting stuff on my face, then they did all kinds of things to my hair.” Anne walked out of the shop next; her Napoleon hat ’do rode higher than ever. Ella followed with her little red hair ball reinflated. “Doesn’t Shay just look beautiful?” Ella chirped. She looked like a hooker who’d just survived a wind tunnel, but Jill nodded and tried to smile.
Let’s get to our site,” Anne said. “I’m gonna need a nap before the hunt…and lunch.” “Do you wish you would’ve gotten that rental car this morning?” Jill whispered as Anne and Ella settled into their seats. Shay nodded. “Uh-huh.” Jill had seen many campgrounds, but her jaw sagged, and her foot slipped off the gas pedal twice. Sally rolled on slowly as she stared at the cadre of camouflaged vehicles and tents. One man sat atop his RV in a lawn chair, his binoculars trained on the woods beyond. “They really do take this seriously,” Shay whispered in awe. “This is like a militaristic zone.” Jill backed into a slip covered with a quilt of netting and camouflage tarps strung from the trees high overhead. “What is the reason for all of this?” she asked. “The campground is designed to blend in with nature to be more welcoming to the Bigfoot,” Anne explained. “That’s what they told us when we checked in.” “Oh, is that it? Well, let me just craft a banner that says, ‘We come in peace or bite-sized pieces,”’ Jill said with a sardonic laugh.
GOD IS MY PROVIDER I BRAG DIFFERENT, THROUGH HIM ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE.
Shelly looked around the jamb again as though whatever animal that had been terrorizing her had a weapon. “That doesn’t look like typical rat shit. You may be right. This needs to be handled right now. You’re a lesbian, get in there and do battle.” “What does being gay have to do with trapping a squirrel?” “Two women live together, who kills the vermin?” Shelly asked with a hand on her hip. “The pest control people, that’s who.” “Butch up and get your ass in there. I won’t tell anyone if you scream like a five-year-old girl.” “I’m a femme lesbian, which puts me in the same class as you.” Ryann pointed to her face. “Note the makeup. Besides, you were the one who always played in the dirt and rode horses.” “There weren’t any squirrels in that dirt with me! I’ll pick up a bug or a frog, I even handled a grass snake once, but I do not deal with rodents.” Ryann leaned against the doorjamb and stared into the room. “It’s most likely under the couch. Where’s Grant?” “After-school detention for piercing his and the noses of his friends with pushpins.” Ryann stared at her in horror. “What is wrong with your kids?
Boric, feeling dizzy and light-headed, shambled toward Randor’s corpse, which was still making an impressive effort to pump blood to Randor’s head. His head unfortunately lay some three feet away — an insurmountable distance for even the most robust circulatory system.
Jack coughed slightly and offered his hand. “Hi, uh. I’m Jack.”Kim took it. “Jack what?”“Huh?”“Your last name, silly.”“Jackson.”She blinked at him. “Your name is Jack Jackson?”He blushed. “No, uh, my first name’s Rhett, but I hate it, so…” He gestured to the chair and she sat. Her dress rode up several inches, exposing pleasing long lines of creamy skin. “Well, Jack, what’s your field of study?”“Biological Engineering, Genetics, and Microbiology. Post-doc. I’m working on a research project at the institute.”“Really? Oh, uh, my apple martini’s getting a little low.”“I’ve got that, one second.” He scurried to the bar and bought her a fresh one. She sipped and managed to make it look not only seductive but graceful as well. “What do you want to do after you’re done with the project?” Kim continued.“Depends on what I find.”She sent him a simmering smile. “What are you looking for?” Immediately, Jack’s eyes lit up and his posture straightened. “I started the project with the intention of learning how to increase the reproduction of certain endangered species. I had interest in the idea of cloning, but it proved too difficult based on the research I compiled, so I went into animal genetics and cellular biology. It turns out the animals with the best potential to combine genes were reptiles because their ability to lay eggs was a smoother transition into combining the cells to create a new species, or one with a similar ancestry that could hopefully lead to rebuilding extinct animals via surrogate birth or in-vitro fertilization. We’re on the edge of breaking that code, and if we do, it would mean that we could engineer all kinds of life and reverse what damage we’ve done to the planet’s ecosystem.”Kim stared. “Right. Would you excuse me for a second?”She wiggled off back to her pack of friends by the bar. Judging by the sniggering and the disgusted glances he was getting, she wasn’t coming back. Jack sighed and finished off his beer, massaging his forehead. “Yes, brilliant move. You blinded her with science. Genius, Jack.”He ordered a second one and finished it before he felt smallish hands on his shoulders and a pair of soft lips on his cheek. He turned to find Kamala had returned, her smile unnaturally bright in the black lights glowing over the room. “So…how did it go with Kim?”He shot her a flat look. “You notice the chair is empty.”Kamala groaned. “You talked about the research project, didn’t you?”“No!” She glared at him.“…maybe…”“You’re so useless, Jack.” She paused and then tousled his hair a bit. “Cheer up. The night’s still young. I’m not giving up on you.”He smiled in spite of himself. “Yet.”Her brown eyes flashed. “Never.
An inch to a man’s heart is a mile to his wallet.
Get high on love, not drugs.
Be calm when your wife yells at you, calmer when she chastens you, but be terrified when she ignores you.
Love came, it saw, and it conquered me.
Falling in love with someone is intentional, even if it was their looks that tripped you.
There is nothing wrong with being a puppet if love is the one pulling the strings.
The easiest way to remember your future wife’s birthday is to marry her on Super Bowl Sunday.
If men could be bought like clothes at an outlet, only then would women always get what they bargained for.
Ryker smiled at me. “You learn quick—”I cut him off. “If you call me grasshopper, I’m going to slug you.” “Padawan.” I shoved him. It was more like shoving a tree. He didn’t even flinch. “You’re such a nerd.”“Geek, Millie. I’m a geek.” His lips twitched and it made me want to raise myself up on my tiptoes and kiss him. I shot him a grin instead. “Only a nerd would know the difference.
The only time I hold my wife's hand tightly is when my wallet is in her other hand.
Be calm on your wedding day; she won’t kill you in front of a hundred people, no matter what you've done.
Women are the best thieves you will ever meet; they steal your heart and your last name, but never get to spend the night in jail.
A kiss is the only thing you can throw at someone without being held criminally responsible.
Look, this isn't about the ring or when I ever made a hamburger, which, for your information, was my senior year of college.""Right, when you almost caught our kitchen on fire.""And you dated one of the firefighters for six months. You're welcome. Back to my problem.
There isn’t anything I can tell you that you don’t already know,” Melly answered.“Yes, but if we already know it then you’re not telling us anything new,” Bea said, thinking her way through the carriages of fear on the witch’s train of thought, “and if we don’t tell you what we know and what we don’t know, then you won’t know if you’ve actually told us something we don’t know, and what you don’t know we don’t know won’t hurt you.”Melly stared at Bea, her cigarette hanging from her lip in defeat.“Did that make sense?” Joan asked.“Yes,” Melly said slowly, “but it probably shouldn’t have done.
Walking through life, we spend most of our energy choosing the right shoes.
Then perhaps you don’t need it. I think the scar gives you character, even if it does mar those pretty tattoos. Would make for great tavern stories if you didn’t cover it.” Neferre laughed flatly and stuck her hands in her pockets. “There’s nothing great about getting mugged, Ziro.” Ziro laughed, her deep voice jiggling her second chin. “Oh, aye. But no one said you had to tell the truth now, did they?
Return me safely to my home,” the princess said, “and I shall reward you with your weight in eggs.” Olorun snorted derisively. “You’re joking, right?” The woman’s eyes flitted in embarrassment. “Now wait a minute,” said Helianthus. “We’re talkin’ eggs here. What sort of eggs? Ostrich eggs?” Neferre made an impatient noise. “Hel! She doesn’t have any eggs! Unless they’re hidden in a very . . . delicate place.” Neferre grinned at the princess. “Tell me your eggs are hidden where I think they’re hidden.
Anyway, it’s unthinkable! Dragons and knights are born enemies. They need to be enemies just like dogs hate cats, cats hate mice and mice hate scientists. Without somebody to hate where would all the hate go? The hate would just boil up inside you, eat away and cause you to have indigestion then a heart attack. We need to release the anger, and we release it on dragons who release it back on us. We slay them and they roast us. It is the natural order of things, Emma.
Without hope we fail to exist.
Of all the things in the world, I'm particularly amazed at, is the conviction with which the MIND, endorses an Idea, which is phenomenal, as it differentiates the Genius from Mediocre, or not to forget the human stupidity in particular!
Some people stride toward a better future. Others have chauffeurs.
Probably your biggest mistake was doing funk-dance to Unchained Melody,” the dog offered earnestly. “It’s a ballad, Alf, and to be honest, it’s one of the slowest songs I can think of. You’d have been better off doing a slow waltz to something with that tempo. The other factor may have been the large amount of beer you consumed beforehand.
If you call yourself an "authoress" on your Facebook profile, you suck at life. You are stupid and your children are ugly. It doesn't matter if you're just trying to be cute and original. You're not. You are about as original as all those other witless twits "writing" the one millionth shitty Fifty Shades clone. Or maybe you're trying to show your 2000 fake Facebook "friends" that you are an empowered feminist who will not stand for sexist terminology. But you're not showing people that you are fighting the good fight, you're showing people that you are a sheep, who's trying just a little too hard to ride the current wave of idiotic political correctness. The word "author" is no more gender-discrimination than the word "person." Do you call yourself a personess? No, of course not, because then you might as well wear a sign around your neck that says, "Hello, I'm a retard.
This moment is spectacular!
They appear somewhat unreliable," he murmured."Unreliable? Nonsense, Superior! Out of luck is all, and we both know how that goes, no? Why, there's not a man of them I wouldn't trust my mother to.""Are you sure?""She's been dead these twenty years. What harm could they do her now?
Be brave to share your story! Each of our stories, have a golden treasure for a specific need.
Of course, thousands of years of traditional masculinity weren't going away without a fight. They lingered in the vestigial memories of men, occasionally challenging a decision to read the directions or wear argyle, hoping for a day when a hurtling piece of space rock will send the world back to a time before the advent of styling gels.
Oh, y'know, magic stuff is full of weird vibrations!" said Dane. "Makes your palm sweat, gives you that pins and needles sensation when you hold it! Maybe something running up your arm." He paused. "Something that isn't a spider or a bug. Something running up your arm that's an invisible sensation. But not an invisible spider. Like an invisible feeling that's pins and needly. Maybe more needles than pins.""Are you sure that's not a heart attack?" said Jaya.
We are grateful for a happy marriage and a glorious future. Four years of a happy marriage! Happy Anniversary my dearest husband, Jeremiah Nii Mama Akita! I love you with all my heart, soul and body.
Falon stared at Del intently, trying to figure out what was different. As usual, Del was impeccably dressed in a lavender dress that revealed her curves. Her nail polish and shoes matched her clothing perfectly. Del’s shoulder-length blond hair looked the same. “Smile at me,” Falon said suddenly, and Del showed her teeth. “You got Botox again.” “Yeah, my dentist does it at his office now. I can get my teeth cleaned and my lines erased at the same time. If I could get him to do collagen injections, I’d be set. I wish these doctors would work together. If my gynecologist worked in the same office as my dentist, I’d look like a race car in the pit. I’d get it all done in one appointment and be back on the road in no time.” Del glanced at her watch. “That reminds me, I’m going to see a plastic surgeon for a consultation tomorrow, so I’ll be late getting here in the morning.” “Would you leave your face alone? Del, you look fine.” “It’s not my face, I’m thinking about having my vagina reshaped. The other day when I was being lasered, I was staring at it in the big mirror. You can really see all your girl junk in it, but it’s kind of magnified, so I wasn’t really sure if things were as out of proportion as they seemed. When I got home, I looked at it with a hand mirror, and it still doesn’t look right to me.” Del stood and began pulling up her dress. “You’ve seen a shitload of vaginas, so I want you to tell me—” “Don’t you dare whip that out in here!” Falon covered her eyes with her hand. “I’m not looking at it, Del. I’m not!” “Come on, really?” Del looked completely taken aback. “You looked at my boobs.” “That’s because you turned them loose before I realized what you were doing.” Falon waved her hand. “Your lady junk is far more personal than boobs.” “How so?” “Cleavage,” Falon blurted out. “You wear shirts that show cleavage, that’s like a little preview. Your lady junk is a total mystery, and I want it to stay that way...
...You agreed we would be fearless together. I’m gonna need you to keep your promise,” Haley said a little loudly. Falon’s office door opened, and Del stepped inside. “I heard a raised voice,” she said and gave Haley the eye. “Were you out there listening to our conversation?” Falon snapped. “Yes,” Del said unabashedly with her gaze locked on Haley. “I’m Falon’s bodyguard. Don’t let my manicure, impeccable high and lowlighted hair, and makeup fool you. I can have a shoe off my foot in less than half a second and peck you full of holes with the heel before you even know what hit you.” “Del!” Falon exclaimed as she hopped off her stool. “Honey, that might’ve scared me before I met Falon, but I’ve let monkeys climb in my shirt, and I’m about to get a tattoo.” Haley stepped up to Del. “Bring. It. On.
...Do you need a hug?” Payton asked with a smile. Ryann chuckled as Payton walked around the kitchen cabinet and held open her arms. “Come on in.” Ryann wrapped her arms around Payton’s waist and set her chin on her shoulder. “I made that stupid Silent of the Lambs threat again, and she corrected me. That made me furious.” Payton snorted with laughter as she wrapped her arms snugly around her. “Did you ever see the movie?” “No, I don’t like serial killer flicks. Shelly told me about it.” “I didn’t think so. The killer didn’t make meat suits, he took their skin. So when you want to sound really vicious, you say something like… ‘I’ll skin you and wear one of your ass cheeks like a beanie.’” “That’s really gross,” Ryann said as she continued to hold on. “But I suppose ‘I’ll snap you like a broomstick’ doesn’t have the same effect.
Owning a drone does not a pilot make.
You never know what you will find in your pants!
Mummy can we keep him?" Madeleine asked with the wide eyes of a burgeoning crush."Darling, little boys make terrible pets," Mrs. Masterson offered with a wink."That's not true at all, Mummy. They're hypoallergenic, much easier than dogs," Madeleine said cheekily, "and they almost never have fleas.
If Yo Mama and Yo Daddy got a divorce, they'd still be brother and sister.
Yo Mama's like mustard, she spreads easy.
Yo Mama sucks so much d***, her lips went double platinum.
What’s the difference between Yo Mama and a 747?-About 20 pounds.-Yo mama carries more passengers.-Not everyone's been on a 747.
Yo Mama's like a library, open to the public.
Yo Mama's so fat, her ass has its own congressman!
Yo Mama's so fat her butt cheeks have different area codes.
What if everything about me is totally made up? What if I’m actually…I don’t know. A wanted fugitive in the States.”“Julia.” He reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “Nobody makes up being a high school math teacher.”“That’s why it’s the perfect disguise!”He shook his head. “Nobody.
By the standards of a tourist strolling past looking for a quick lunch, the place was a dive. The sign on the window was small and easy to miss, and the antique feel of the place wasn't the prepackaged, old-shit-on-the-wall nostalgia that came with so many chain restaurants. The cafe was just old, and everything about it said old. But Jon liked it that way, if only because it kept the tourists away and spared him from hearing imported ignorance when there was plenty of local ignorance to go around.
I was sitting on the couch in the living room, pouring through an old sci-fi novel I’d found in one of the ruins, and I could hear the water bubbling as he cooked. The spaghetti smelled good, but I knew he’d probably put something crazy in it like popcorn or marshmallows, so I ignored my rumbling belly.
Science and discovery, especially in the field of non-abnormal pediatric mysteries, is built on the work of those who have been sneezed on before us. Causation and rationale may someday be reached, but until then it is the heartwarming and parental nature of the journey that drives us on; well, that and a fresh box of Kleenex.
If someone lied to you, and you positively know this is true, you may find delight in telling them they are the most honest person you know; continue flattering them, giving them the most wonderful compliments, including how you're so thankful to have such an honest person in such a deceptive world. But, then again, this may very well make you a liar too.
It's more like how some people can't help but bring out the not necessarily righteous parts of your personality. Like how you meet someone and instantly know they're a full-time professional victim, and no matter how hard you try, something takes over and you can't help needling them.
I enjoy self-publishing & sending publishers rejection letters. They're like, 'Who is this guy?' And I'm like, 'the end of your industry.
I was my own boss, but that all changed the day I got married.
The fastest way to end an argument with your wife is to admit she’s right.
If God had a wife, He would be in trouble too if He dodged His chores.
Don't you understand how Cho's feeling at the moment?" [Hermione] asked."No," said Ron and Harry together.Hermione sighed and laid down her quill."Well, obviously, she's feeling very sad, because of Cedric dying. Then I expect she's feeling confused because she liked Cedric and now she likes Harry, and she can't work out who she likes best. Then she'll be feeling guilty, thinking it's an insult to Cedric's memory to be kissing Harry at all, and she'll be worrying about what everyone else might say about her if she starts going out with Harry. And she probably can't work out what her feelings toward Harry are anyway, because he was the one who was with Cedric when Cedric died, so that's all very mixed up and painful. Oh, and she's afraid she's going to be thrown off the Ravenclaw Quidditch team because she's been flying so badly."A slightly stunned silence greeted the end of this speech, then Ron said, "One person can't feel all that at once, they'd explode.""Just because you've got the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn't mean we all have," said Hermione nastily, picking up her her quill again.
Truth: last week I online shopped too much. Then I ate 2 pounds of jelly beans to feel better about that. In fact, while I was trying to read soul-nourishing things all I could think about was shopping and jellybeans. Points to the monkey mind.
I notice being noticed immediately – I’m a freeway goddess! In the past five minutes of gridlock, I have been checked out by a bald man in convertible Mustang, a cowboy in an F-150, and a body-builder in a Lincoln Navigator. Watch out road warriors! I don’t want to be responsible for any accidents. If only I had a car decal that advertised: Available – if you meet my eligibility criteria!
I sneak quietly up the stairs and toward my door. It’s not very late, but I don’t want to arouse Cyclops Eye next door. I’ve stopped looking as I walk past, but it’s difficult not to notice her window open just a few inches and her sitting right next to it, ready at a moment’s notice to give me her big one-eyed look. Maybe I should get her a monocle for Christmas, so she can make more of a statement.
I could feel the spring in my step as I walked up one flight of stairs from the parking garage into the company’s lobby. Although I wore my old blue suit, a remnant of all my previous job interviews, I felt the day had new possibilities. After all, I was interviewing at a company that made something I loved – movies!
I just want you to know,' said the girl, coldly, 'that whoever you are and whatever you intend with me, I shall give you no aid of any kind, nor shall I assist you, and I shall do whatever is in my power to frustrate your plans and devices.' And then she added, with feeling, 'Idiot.
The local natives were particularly curious to know why the English required such huge quantities of pepper and there was much scratching of heads until it was finally agreed that English houses were so cold that the walls were plastered with crushed pepper in order to produce heat.
Giving the rugged repairman the eye was one thing -- but Charity had no intention of snogging away a whole rainy afternoon when she was supposed to be catching up on her work. Lady Margaret was counting on her! But then again, Lady Margaret didn't have big brown eyes and a cheeky grin.
Christian swiped the keys from my hand. "Maybe the fates want us to take the car home. Why do I have a feeling I'm going to regret this?I smirked. "Is that what Viktor said before he hired you?""That's what your husband is going to say before reciting his vows.""That's what every woman says before they have sex with you."Christian swaggered toward the door, swinging the keys around his finger. "That's what I'm going to say before you serve our dinner tonight.
...Falon sucked hard on her straw and swallowed. “You haven’t mentioned a girlfriend or a wife.” “That’s because I don’t have one.” Haley touched the tip of her nose with her finger. “Whew, I’m feeling good. I should drink more often. My ex left me a year ago for someone else,” she admitted and giggled. “I’ve been surviving on a steady diet of hate and loathing.” Falon raised her cup. “Whatever works, right?” “Yeah, I guess,” Haley agreed with a shrug and a grin. “She always complained that I wouldn’t allow myself to be exciting. Look at me now, though, I’m stranded in another country with no money or passport, wearing shorts with sea turtles on them with no underwear. I’m drunk with someone I don’t know who could very well kill me in my sleep.” The empty cup dropped from her hand onto the floor as her head lolled back against the chair. “I’m fucking exciting now.
..,When the call ended, Haley went back into the bedroom where Falon was lying in bed with an arm over her eyes. “That was Cindy, right?” Falon asked. “Yes, and my parents are driving her crazy. I have to call them. If you want a laugh, listen to my half of the conversation.” Haley climbed into the bed next to Falon and leaned her back against the headboard. She blew out a breath and pressed a button on her phone. “Hey, Dad, I’m… I am fine… yes, I can hear you both… Well, I’m sorry… I am fine,” Haley said forcefully. “No… no… I mean it, no. I’m a grown—late tonight. No… no… absolutely not. Neither of you drive at night—no. I said no. I’m fine… I am fine… no.” She grinned at Falon when she laughed softly. “I’m not alone… no. Another ship passenger—female. No… I know. I’m a grown woman! Yes, I realize that—no! Well, this is why…. no. Yes, but don’t show up before dawn. No. That doesn’t make any sense, no. This call is a dollar a minute… no. Yes, you can bring breakfast. Yes, I will do that—I just said I would do that. Yes… no. Yes. I love you, too, bye.” “That was exhausting,” Falon said with a laugh when Haley released a heavy breath and dropped her phone into her lap.
Yes. Right. You should probably, um..."She had no idea what he should do.Kiss her, she thought. Isn't that what people did after they survived thrilling, near-death experiences together? She was sure it wasn't an appropriate suggestion, but this close, it was all she could think about.
She turned to Stephanie. "I'm going to the bathroom. You coming?" "Yes, since women have to travel in pairs." Tonya chuckled. Once that were around the corner, Stephanie pounced. "Holy crap! I've never seen you like that before. Not that I ever had the chance, but holy shit, Tonya, you need to jump on this train. I think it's coming for you whether you want it to or not.
His message perplexed his mind to that degree that he was fain, several times, to take off his hat to scratch his head. Except on the crown, which was raggedly bald, he had stiff, black hair, standing jaggedly all over it, and growing down hill almost to his broad, blunt nose. It was so like Smith's work, so much more like the top of a strongly spiked wall than a head of hair, that the best of players at leap-frog might have declined him, as the most dangerous man in the world to go over.
All real estate agents should be put on a decommissioned naval frigate which is then towed out into the deepest part of the Atlantic and sunk. It's rather unfortunate that, in recent years, real estate agents have become comedy betes-noires. Rather like lawyers or used car salesmen. Every time they mention their job they probably get people amusingly making the sign of the cross at them or are subjected to some good-natured, humorous ribbing. This has the effect of distorting what I'm trying to say here, which isn't in the nature of a smiling roll of the eyes and a "Tsk, real estate agents, eh?" but rather "All real estate agents should be put on a decommissioned naval frigate which is then towed out into the deepest part of the Atlantic and sunk.
My embarrassment was complete. If I just had passed out, that would have been bad enough. But to make matters worse, Will had carried me outside, where everyone else was; everyone in my youth group had seen Will carrying me. I felt like melting into the bench on which I sat.
to be in charge. To be the wise owl. The comforter. I felt I’d moved beyond that. Gained my own wisdom. Found comfort in my own company. In just being me. The long healing process was at an end, hastened by these few days of sunshine and blissful solitude.
Me and Jason against you and Stacy.” Alana handed Alexis a badminton racket and grinned. “Yay,” Alexis said without even a smidgeon of enthusiasm. “Do you want to serve?” Stacy asked Alexis when Jason and Alana moved to the other side of the net. “Serve you what? There’s no staff here to take care of your every whim, princess,” Alexis said lowly so the others wouldn’t hear. Stacy recoiled at the remark, then her temper flared. “You know what I was asking,” she replied coolly. “You can serve. Here’s the birdie,” Alexis replied and handed it to her on her middle finger. “Shuttlecock,” Stacy corrected. “Butthole…cock.” Alexis shrugged when Stacy glared at her. “That’s what we used to call them.” “Uh-huh,” Stacy said as she prepared to serve. The birdie sailed over the net,and volley began. This went on for a few minutes, then Alexis heard a hard thwack behind her, and the birdie stung her on the back of the thigh. She turned and looked at Stacy with fire in her eyes. “My bad,” Stacy said nonchalantly.Alexis picked up the birdie and hit it toward Jason. He served again. Stacy returned and nailed Alexis in the back of the head. “I’m so sorry,” Stacy said with an acerbic smile. “I’m having a hard time getting my shuttlecock up for you.” ...An intense volley began, and Alana said, “Uh, hey, y’all are supposed to be hitting it to us.” Jason watched in fascination. “I think they’re trying to kill the birdie.” Alexis finally missed and snatched it off the ground. “We were just warming up.” “Yeah, I’m good and hot now,” Stacy added between clenched teeth...“My serve,” Alexis said as she whirled around, then lowered her voice as she passed Stacy. “You’re about to find out whywe call them butthole cocks.” Stacy held her racket out like a sword. “How about I just waffle your ass now?” Alexis struck a fencing pose, or at least she thought she did. “On guard, biatch.”...Alana rushed under the net and stepped between the two staring daggers at each other. “Hey, we want to be able to use these rackets again. Maybe we should take a break since y’all kind of murdered the birdie.” Alana laughed. “It’s missing two plastic feathers...
Dear Me, I made a jackass out of myself tonight. I couldn’t stop it. The second I saw Stacy, I sprouted big donkey ears and a tail. I don’t know why she gets under my skin. Why should I care what she thinks of me? She’ll be gone right along with Jason when Alana gets bored. Alana’s lasagna was terrible. No one noticed that I was slipping the harder pieces of it into my salad bowl and hiding them under the lettuce. It’s a good thing they don’t have a dog because if it was to eat the scraps, it would surely die. Jason and Stacy are gonna be shitting pasta shards. I feel sorry for Jason, not so much for Stacy. I’ll have to patch things up with Alana, so this may not be the right time to tell her that her cooking is lethal. She was pissed when I left her house. I’m sure she’ll tell Mom and Grammy I was a jerk. Jason was probably mad at me too. I feel a little bad about that. Me
Dear Me, Talk about getting the wind knocked out of your sails when your best friend tells you you’re turning into a grumpy hermit. She told me that at breakfast today, and I was in denial until I talked to Chase, that little fucker. I made myself happy by soaking his ass five times before lunch. I did some soul searching, and I don’t think I’m depressed, but I do think I’m becoming too comfortable with being by myself. I’m really beginning to enjoy the company of cats more than people, and that’s probably not a good thing. Sprout and Ginger are so cute right now. Ginger’s cleaning Sprout’s head, and he’s smiling. Sometimes he’ll…yeah, I really need to get out more. I think life would be simpler if people acted more like cats. Like if someone is prattling on about something I don’t care about and I pop them in the forehead, they’d understand to walk away just like a cat does. A simple hiss conveys so much. I will attempt to gradually release myself back into a social environment. Me
...I’m insane, Jorie thought. She saw herself lying in a hospital bed, her wallet and valuables gone. When asked why she got into a car with a woman she didn’t know, her reply would land her in the psych ward. Well, you see, I have this fantasy lover because, frankly, they’re so much easier to deal with. She never makes a mess, loves my demonic cat, always says the right thing at the right time. I saw this woman, and she was my dream come to life, so I just had to get into the car with her because I’m an idiot...
Where ya goin’?” Coleen asked. “I’m taking Lena to dinner, then we’re going dancing.” Coleen threw a hand on her hip. “You don’t smell the gumbo that’s been cooking all day? It’s your favorite. I stuffed every aquatic creature I could find into that pot. Claws and legs are hanging out all over the place.” “I’ll have some tomorrow,” Jorie said as she caught one of the screws that dropped from the blade. “I made pie, damn it. Pecan, just because I know you love it. Bring that woman here for dinner and save yourself a buck or two.” “Oh, no,” Jorie said with a laugh. “I really like her. It’s too soon to expose her to an Andolini dinner.
The Cubists are entitled to the serious attention of all who find enjoyment in the colored puzzle pictures of the Sunday newspapers. Of course there is no reason for choosing the cube as a symbol, except that it is probably less fitted than any other mathematical expression for any but the most formal decorative art. There is no reason why people should not call themselves Cubists, or Octagonists, or Parallelopipedonists, or Knights of the Isosceles Triangle, or Brothers of the Cosine, if they so desire; as expressing anything serious and permanent, one term is as fatuous as another.
...Stella’s tiny butt stuck in the air as she stretched to reach a weed. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a button-down pink and white checked shirt that was tucked into the elastic waistband of her pants. She reminded Rusty of an elf. “Excuse me, Stella?” “You stop right there if you have trouble on your mind. As you can see, I have plenty of birds, and I’ll knock you out with one of them,” Stella said without looking up. Rusty wanted to say that she’d yank up her own plastic flamingo and work Stella over with it in a heartbeat. Instead, she took a calming breath and said, “I made something you might like to have.” “If it’s a grenade launcher, I’m listening, Achmed.
Y’all ever seen that 'monkeys typing in a room for eternity would eventually create the works of Shakespeare' quote? Well, one time Drew got high and stated, 'Wait, that happened already. We’re monkeys, and space is eternity, and we typed, and it happened.' He insisted we put it in the book.
A mother’s eyes are like God; impossible to get away from, they see everything.
Ask your wife for forgiveness, even when you’re right.
The Milky Way, which is our galaxy, will collide with its nearest neighbor the Andromeda Galaxy. The two galaxies are heading towards each other at a wickedly high snail’s pace, of about 75 miles per second. This massive crash is expected to occur about 3 to 4 billion years from now.” My suggestion is to keep your head down! Captain Hank Bracker
After a few more minutes of daydreaming about how fabulous I could become, I look down at the heading on my paper: Janey's Reinvention Plan. It appears lonely at the top of the page. I should probably add some bullets beneath, but I've never been much of a list maker.
I'm overweight, despise change, and rarely, if ever, initiate anything. Unlike my friends, I’ve had no drama in my life which might qualify as box office material. If a little more drama came my way, however, I would probably need to purchase some courage in order to withstand it. Oh well, if a bit of change equals a bit of drama, I’m willing to risk it.
She looked out and saw a tall and comely woman beckoning to her. Susannah's first look at Mia in the flesh astounded her, because the chap's mother was *white.* Apparently Odetta-that-was now had a Caucasian side to her personality and how that must frost Detta Walker's racially sensitive butt!
I hope you won't mind, my dear, if we take it," said Thunder Karlsson. "Oh, not at all," said Pippi. "Of course not." And with that, Blom went over and took out the suitcase. "I hope you won't mind, my dear, if I take it back," said Pippi, as she climbed out of bed and went over to Blom.
And now here I was in McDonald's again for the first time since my earlier fracas. I vowed to behave myself, but McDonald's is just too much for me. I ordered a chicken sandwich and a Diet Coke.'Do you want fries with that?' the young man serving me asked.I hesitated for a moment, and in a pained but patient tone said: 'No. That's why I didn't ask for fries, you see.''We're just told to ask like,' he said.'When I want fries, generally I say something like, "I would like some fries, too, please." That's the system I use.''We're just told to ask like,' he repeated.'Do you need to know the other things I don't want? It is quite a long list. In fact, it is everything you serve except for the two things I asked for.''We're just told to ask like,' he repeated yet again, but in a darker voice, and deposited my two items on a tray and urged me, without the least hint of sincerity, to have a nice day.I realized that I probably wasn't quite ready for McDonald's yet.
I remember the teacher telling us that Ukraine was part of the Soviet Union, alongside Russia. “The Soviet Union is the largest and most glorious empire that the world has ever seen,” the teacher lectured. “We’re all proud comrades. We’re all like brothers. We’re so lucky to be part of the greatest nation that has ever existed. We love our country and our country loves us like a mother loves her children.
Many young athletes joined the gangs instead of aspiring to gold medals in the Olympics. You could easily discern the kind of sport they did by their body shape and injuries. Well-built with a broken nose - a boxer.Broad shoulders with torn ears - a wrestler. Enormous muscles with little to no brain - a bodybuilder. Short with broad shoulders and a quadratic head - a weightlifter.
Just forget for a minute that you have spectacles on your nose and autumn in your heart. Stop being tough at your desk and stammering with timidity in the presence of people. Imagine for one second that you raise hell in public and stammer on paper. You’re a tiger, a lion, a cat. You spend a night with a Russian woman and leave her satisfied. You’re twenty five. If rings had been fastened to the earth and sky, you’d have seized them and pulled the sky down to earth
At this point I came across one of the vending machines that only Japan has. I have to admit that I love the whimsical items sold in such appliances, like all sorts of junk food, beer cans, whisky bottles and even underwear. This particular machine sold both whisky and underwear, which truly is a bizarre combination, or maybe not, considering all the underwear were female panties. It was therefore my theory that older men would come by and buy the whisky, and then when they were drunk and young women passed by, the men would then offer them panties as gifts for sexual favours. Ya, it all made perfect sense to me.
What does it take to be a writer? 1) Foolhardily believing that someone might actually be interested in reading what you've written. 2) Spending an enormous amount of time writing it as well as you can. 3) Accepting that, at best, you'll probably be paid something around 25 cents an hour for your efforts.
You have heard about the reindeer that pull old Santa's sled. But mostly I hate Rudolph and wish that he were dead. With his nose of red which we all know just can't be true. I wish someone would just kill him, that someone could be you. He is Santa's favorite and to the front he can be found. Instead of his red nose, "I" think it should be brown. He believes that Santa likes him and thinks that he's a winner. But Santa Claus has other plans he wants Rudolph for his dinner. Old Saint Nick is greedy this I know without a doubt. What else do you think happens to all the great toys we go without?He takes them and he breaks them be cause he doesn't care a bit. To me it doesn't matter, Why, he can keep his "Schict".Yes' it's true that I hate Santa too, dressed in his suit of silk. That's why this year with the homemade cookies, I'm going to leave some poison milk.
She was called a cook, but there was no real evidence she had even a small amount of ability to do this. Every meal, no matter how much you thought you liked it before, would be ruined forever after having one of Margery’s slop versions of it. Burger and Chips or Lasagne, as Mike liked, were gruesomely murdered by the time Margery had used the ingredients (and added some special ones of her own!) to deliver a pile of gruel. It did not matter what the menu said; when served, it was always green, even if none of the ingredients were actually green!“Nexxxttt! Hey, you, I said NEXXTT!!!” she shouted at the violet boy who had hesitated to wonder if life was really worth this. “What’s your name, boy? Speak up now and tell me which class you are in?” This was a usual evil method Margery used so children had to give up holding their breath and smell the putrid stench of her sweaty BO mixed with the green muck she scooped from a giant vat beside her. The poor boy nearly passed out when it hit him, but, fortunately, his friend helped him stay up. He quickly grabbed his tray and sloshed his green slush all over as he ran for freedom. NNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEXXXXXXXXXXXTTTTTTT!!!
I would like a cappuccino," says Linus politely. "Thank you.""Your name?""I'll spell it for you," he says. "Z-W-P-A-E-N--""What?" She stares at him, Sharpie in hand."Wait, I haven't finished. Double F-hyphen-T-J-U-S. It's an unusual name, Linus adds gravely. "It's Dutch.
He was a self-righteous know-it-all who had the breath of a dung beetle, a gray ponytail he barely pulled together from the bozo ring of hair clinging to his balding, freckled dome, and loved to drink, of all things, tea. Usually it was some sickly sweet-smelling herbal crap that was made in the hippie wasteland of Boulder, Colorado. The box was festooned with the image of a happy, dancing bear in a field of multicolored flowers and the tea had some idiotic name like Tai Chai. After work one evening, I snatched the box of tea bags from the break room and changed the recipe. I wasn't really worried that any other employees would use one of the tea bags because NO ONE DRINKS FUCKING TEA AT WORK, especially not the totally useless, noncaffeinated fairy tears reserved for old maids to sip while they watch Murder, She Wrote in bed with their legion of cats.
It looks like two alpacas fucking, mostly," he said apologetically. "Of course, sometimes, the boy can't get his boy parts past the girl's furry ass, and he needs a little help, so then it looks like two alpacas fucking while their handler's giving the one on top a handjob.
Do people call you Ollie?” Lola asked.Oliver looked at her, completely dumbfounded by the possibility of this nickname. She may as well have asked him if people call him Garth, or Andrew, or Timothy.“No,” he said flatly, and the only thing charming about him was the way his accent seemed to run through every vowel with one syllable. Lola’s eyebrow twitched in her single tell—mildly annoyed—and she lifted her flashing LED drink cup to her lips.Lola wears mostly black, including her glossy dark hair, and has a tiny diamond pierced into her lip, but, even still, she’s never been able to pull off the full physical manifestation of the angry Riot Grrrl. With her perfect porcelain skin and the longest eyelashes in the world, she’s simply too delicate. But once she decides you’re an asshole, it no longer matters to her what you think. She gives good glare.“The flower suits you,” she said, tilting her head to study him. “And you have pretty hands, kind of soft. Maybe we should call you Olive.”He grunted out a dry laugh.“And a really beautiful mouth,” I added. “Gentle. Like a woman’s.”“Aw fuck off.” He was laughing outright by then.
Michael Palin : "I am sorry to interrupt you there Dennis, but he's crossed it out. Thomas Hardy here on the first day of his new novel has crossed out the only word he has written so far and he is gazing off into space. Ohh! Oh dear he's signed his name again."Graham Chapman: "It looks like Tess of the D'Urbervilles all over again."- Matching Tie and Handkerchief, "Novel Writing
If a demon and a vampire mated, their offspring would be unique but in harmony, like a Labrador retriever crossed with a poodle. Voila, labradoodle!But a vemon was a made creature, as if one took the front half of the Lab and jammed it onto the back half of the poodle. In other words, wrong
If a demon and a vampire mated, their offspring would be unique but in harmony, like a Labrador retriever crossed with a poodle. Voila, labradoodle!But a vemon was a made creature, as if one took the front half of the Lab and jammed it onto the back half of thr poodle. In other words, wrong.
Why do they call them daytime dramas, anyway? Shouldn't they be bedtime dramas? All anyone ever talks about is getting someone into bed! Plus if you're at home watching, you're probably watching in bed. And if you're like me, after an hour or two of watching all those sexy goings-on you forget the silly story entirely and fall asleep. Just like it's bedtime!
Isolde took a swig. "It doesn't matter if you believe it or not. Your government just gave you two months to get knocked up." She held up the bottle, her face dull and red. "Cheers." "You better get your fill of the booze now, then," said Xochi. "You'll be drinking for two pretty soon.
It’s impossible to park on Tremont or even idle there for more than thirty seconds. A platoon of meter maids, imported from the female Hitler Youth shortly after the fall of Berlin, roam the street, at least two to a block, pit bull faces on top of fire hydrant bodies, just waiting for someone stupid enough to stall traffic on their street.
Wit is so shining a quality that everybody admires it, most people aim at it, all people fear it and few love it unless in themselves. A man must have a good share of wit himself to endure it in others. The more wit you have, the more good nature and politness you must show to induce people to pardon your superiority, for that is no easy matter.
Simon stepped forward and clapped him on the shoulder. "Nothing better than making a maid happy, is there?""Aye, there most assuredly is." Simon cocked a puzzled brow."Skewering my meddlesome brother would definitely be better."Simon laughed. "Then I'd best go pack so that I won't be directly in your sight for the next few minutes.""You do that, Simon, and while you're at it, make sure to find your common sense and bring it along as well.
What are you doing?”Celaena lifted another piece of paper. “If His Pirateness can’t be bothered to clean for us, then I don’t see why I can’t have a look.”“He’ll be here any second,” Sam hissed. She picked up a flattened map, examining the dots and markings along the coastline of their continent. Something small and round gleamed beneath the map, and she slipped it into her pocket before Sam could notice.“Oh, hush,” she said, opening the hutch on the wall adjacent to the desk. “With these creaky floors, we’ll hear him a mile off.” The hutch was crammed with rolled scrolls, quills, the odd coin, and some very old, very expensive-looking brandy. She pulled out a bottle, swirling the amber liquid in the sunlight streaming through the tiny porthole window. “Care for a drink?
Okay, I've only just found out the final lineup for Slytherin," said Angelina, consulting a piece of parchment. "Last year's Beaters, Derrick and Bole, have left now, but it looks as though Montague's replaced them with the usual gorillas, rather than anyone who can fly particularly well. They're two blokes called Crabbe and Goyle. I don't know much about them--""We do," said Harry and Ron together."Well they don't look bright enough to tell one end of a broom from another," said Angelina, pocketing her parchment, "but then I was always surprised Derrick and Bole managed to find their way onto the pitch without signposts.""Crabbe and Goyle are in the same mold," Harry assured her.
Merry Christmas," said George. "Don't go downstairs for a bit.""Why not?" said Ron."Mum's crying again," said Fred heavily. "Percy sent back his Christmas jumper." [I guess that's a sweater, though my jury is still out on it until I get a future confirmation.]"Without a not," added George. "Hasn't asked how Dad is or visit him [in the hospital] or anything...""We tried to comfort her," said Fred, moving around the bed to look at Harry's portrait. "Told her Percy's nothing but a humongous pile of rat droppings--""--didn't work," said George, helping himself to a Chocolate Frog. "So Lupin took over. Best let him cheer her up before we go down for breakfast, I reckon.
Few seem to be able to eat a turkey leg at Disneyland without splattering tsunami scale grease, so grab plenty of napkins or wear a bib, tablecloth or scuba suit.
Do you recall telling Dr. Phillips during your appointment on February second of last year that you needed to be tested for sexually transmitted diseases because—let me make sure I get this correct here . . .” Taylor read out loud from her file, “Because, quote, ‘your weasel-dick husband slept with a skanky whore stripper and the cheating bastard didn’t use a rubber’?” Ms. Campbell shot up in her chair. “She actually wrote that down?” The jury tittered with amused laughter and sat up interestedly. Finally—things were starting to look a little more like Law & Order around here. “I take it that’s a yes?” Taylor asked.
In movies, we are accustomed to seeing handsome actors. It's so commonplace on the screen, large or small, that we barely note it as extraordinary. But in life, rarely do we encounter an onslaught of beauty, entire a hive of handsomeness, find ourselves awash in an ocean of attractiveness, drowning in a miasma of hotness.
At around 6:00 a.m., April 30, 1987, we were awakened by a loud bull horn while inside our rented mobile home at an Ozark, Missouri trailer park."Glenn Miller, Jack Jackson, Douglas Sheets, Tony Wydra, this is a United States Marshal. You have three minutes to come out with your hands up, or we will commence firing."The feds had flown in two SWAT teams; one from Kentucky, the other from Louisiana (40 in all, plus the Marshals and local authorities) to make the arrests.We were surrounded.I had a hang-over, couldn't find my pants, and had to pee, bad.
Galen punched his brother hard. "You bastard! You married and din't tell me?"Bathymaas moved to blast him. Aricle stopped her. "I'ts alright my lady. That's his normal reaction.""He needs to find another." Bathymaas"How could you have not told me? I'm your brother! Your twin! When did you marry?" Galen"While you were all gone." Aricles"Have you any idea the shit storm you are about to unleash?" Caleb"It's why I backed down from the fighting. I didn't want anyone hurt. Least of all Bathymaas." AriclesMalphas growled. "Now I want to punch you. . . . But I understand." He rubbed his gold necklace that never left him. "The heart wants what it wants, and nothing will deny it. But damn . . ." He turned his glare to Bathymaas. "Damn.""So what does this mean?" Monokles"The gods will attack her for this. Openly. Those who hate her will say that she can no longer perform her duties because she's been corrupted by the thouch of a mortal. And they will be after Aricles with everything they have." Caleb"I still don't trust him. He bowed out when we needed him the most." Phelix"To protect his wife." Haides reminded Phelix. "Right or wrong, I doubt there's a one of us who wouldn't do whatever he had to to keep his woman safe." Haides"he's right, there's nothing I wouldn't do to protect my wife and her honor." MonoklesGalen hugged Bathymaas and then his brother. "I hate you." galen"I hate you too." AriclesBathymaas scowled. "We don't mean it, my lady. Rather, it's our way of saying that we're still mad, but are willing to forgive." Aricles"Mortals are so strange." Bathymaas
I leave her to chemically combust and find Wren in the student council office, filling out extremely interesting paperwork. He’s buried behind piles of the stuff. I can barely see tufts of his blonde hair poking out. I reach into the paperwork pile and shove the two halves aside. Hundreds of them fall off the desk and to the floor. Papers drift through the air like snowflakes. Fat, boring-ass snowflakes. Wren looks up, face slack with shock. “Whatcha doing?” I ask. “Dividing up funding for the other clubs,” He whispers, clearly distraught. A paper plops onto his head and slides off dejectedly. I’m respectful for three seconds. “So anyway, I had this nightmare in which Jack was sexy and Kayla died.
Pretty?' I said, swivelling in the driver's seat to face him, 'you want to ask me out because I'm pretty?' 'Is there a problem with asking you out because you're pretty?' 'I think you blew it,' said Tiger with a grin. 'You should be asking her out because she's smart, witty, mature beyond her years and every moment in her company makes you want to be a better person - pretty of face should be at the bottom of the list.' 'Oh, blast,' said Perkins despondently. 'It should, shouldn't it?
Hopefully not another employee stealing credit cards, Brooke mused. Or any sort of headache-inducing “oops moment,” like the time one of the restaurant managers called to ask if he could fire a line cook after discovering that the man was a convicted murderer.“Jeez. How’d you learn that?” Brooke had asked.“He made a joke to one of the waiters about honing his cooking skills in prison. The waiter asked what he’d been serving time for, and he said, ‘Murder.’”“I bet that put an end to the conversation real fast. And yes, you can fire him,” Brooke had said. “Obviously, he lied on his employment application.” All of Sterling’s employees, regardless of job position, were required to answer whether they’d ever been convicted of a crime involving “violence, deceit, or theft.” Pretty safe to say that murder qualified.Ten minutes later, the manager had called her back.“Um . . . what if he didn’t exactly lie? I just double-checked his application, and as it turns out, he did check the box for having been convicted of a crime.”Brooke had paused at that. “And then the next question, where we ask what crime he’d been convicted for, what did he write?”“Uh . . . ‘second-degree murder.’”“I see. Just a crazy suggestion here, Cory, but you might want to start reading these applications a little more closely before making employment offers.”“Please don’t fire me.
So I’m reading some poem by Louise . . . something, I forget her last name, but it’s about Hades and the underworld, and I don’t even notice that Paige has come up to my table until she says, ‘Doesn’t everyone want love?’ And I’m thinking, wow, that’s a pretty deep question, but then again Paige is really smart, and this is my chance to finally show her that I’m not just a dumb jock. So I say, ‘I heard this theory once that love means your subconscious is attracted to someone else’s subconscious.’”“Very deep,” Cade said.“Exactly. And I’m feeling proud of myself for that one, until she points to the book and says, ‘Oh, that wasn’t a question. I was just quoting a line from the poem.
And watch your tongue. I happen to be partial to humans - most, anyway. Clowns, not so much. Those evil bastards never stop smiling."Niccolo didn't know what these "clowns" were, but he made a mental not to stay away if he ever encountered one. Sounded unpleasant.
You pay for that,” he told Ian as he hopped off the hood. “You pay for that, now.”Ian and Peter ignored him, circling around the car. The passenger jumped out and ran off at a sprint, as if the very hounds of hell were nipping at his heels. The taxi driver watched him go and stamped his foot in rage. “You pay for him, too,” he yelled at the men, seething in anger.
Let me see,” Opal said.She quickly slurped up the rest of her lunch and thentook the collar. She examined it very closely. Sure enough,she could see bits of evergreen fur pinched along the buckle strap. As she looked closer, she noticed something else. Several pieces of black onyx were sewn into the back of the collar, and they started glowing.“Well look at that,” Jack said. “Somebody’s put a spider in this biscuit.
Do you like him? Ty asked. "Not that I care." "I do," I said, because it was true. Even though it didn't matter anymore. "Not that I care you don't care. Though you clearly do care, and I don't care about that either." "Well, I don't care that you don't care that I don't care. In fact i'm glad. Because, um, if I were seeming someone that I liked, I'd want you to be happy for me.""Are you seeing someone?" I asked, pretty sure he wasn't. "Not that I care.
When a guy says,'I'll call you,' and he doesn't say when-that means he won't call you." Kit pulled his phone out of his pocket and pressed a couple buttons. My phone vibrated in my pocket. I fished it out, smiling. "Madness," Kit whispered softly into his phone. "I meant I'd call you. This is me calling you.
...Rusty followed. “You should probably pull out your gun. Whatever is in there made enough noise to make me believe it wasn’t a bug.” Kirsten’s stride faltered, and she came to a stop at the door. “Okay, I’m gonna come clean right now. I cannot stand rats or mice. Snakes scare me less. So if I get in there and I see a furry vermin, I will scream like a little girl. If you tell anyone you witnessed that, I will ticket you every time you pull out of your driveway. Are we clear?” “Are you sure you don’t want me to go to the store?” Kirsten met Rusty’s gaze. “Are you clear on what I just said?” “Yep.
...I think I saw something orange pass beneath a streetlight. That means she turned the corner on Pecan Street. Wait right here, and I’ll get my car.” Stella grabbed Mona’s arm. “There’s no time. Follow me and keep your mouth shut.” Instead of going to the street, Stella crept through a yard. “This is crazy, I can’t see a thing. Stella, we could break a leg.” “I told you to be quiet. I know these yards as well as I know my own. Stay behind me.” She led Mona behind a large azalea bush close to the sidewalk. They hid there as Rusty approached, and she was almost on top of them when Mona sneezed. Rusty stopped, put her hands on her hips, and said, “I know you’re in there.” Neither Stella nor Mona made a peep. “I think I understand why you feel the need to watch me. I’m new around here, so let me introduce myself. My name is Rusty Martinez. I’m a businesswoman, and I have no intention of breaking into anyone’s home. I’m simply out for exercise, so you have nothing to worry about.” “Okay, well, you have a nice night,” Mona said cheerily. Rusty recoiled at the response. “Um…you too,” she said quickly and jogged away. Stella groaned. “Your mother obviously didn’t teach you how to properly conduct a mission, did she?” “If you mean how to hide in a bush, then no.
The Ruhar hit us on Columbus Day. There we were, innocently drifting along the cosmos on our little blue marble, like the native Americans in 1492. Over the horizon come ships of a technologically advanced, aggressive culture, and BAM! There go the good old days, when humans only got killed by each other.
Cats, of course, are easier to make fun of. The cutest cat is still a freak. Where dogs are sympathetic, almost tragic, figures, cats are pure comedy. Dogs are your buddies, cats are entertainment They're like a TV show. There's nothing funnier than when a cat falls off of something. When a dog falls down a couple of stairs, you rush to it and console it. But when a cat does it, it's funny—you point at it and laugh (which they don't like, incidentally).
Arms wrapped around [Darcy's] abdomen from the back. Fingers felt for the spot above his navel. Two fists pushed in and upward. Darcy felt a violent squeezing sensation. The offending prawn shot out of his gullet, flew across the table, and knocked Tate's wine glass over...Tate looked down at the partially chewed shrimp in disgust and covered it with his napkin.
I've found that all it usually takes to draw out an engineer is to ask a couple of technical questions and then remain calm while listening to the answers. Most people tend to take on a blank, frightened look as soon as they realize that a technical explanation is under way; if you can resist giving this reaction and simply listen, your engineer will open up and tell you everything you ever wanted to know.
For the record, and those readers oblivious to metaphor, I would have avoided the subject entirely if my wife did not assure me I was of average size, an opinion as comforting as it is troublesome, because I know how much research she's done first hand. From the chapter, "Small Penis Rule".
Chekhov. Well he was a bit of a lad. He had at least two dozen relationships, possibly three; some of them long term; most of the woman wanted to marry him and throughout that time he was still a constant frequenter of brothels. ‘‘Mercy. It’s a wonder he got time to write at all.
Observation:Thanks to technological advances, avid readers seem to be replacing DTBAD (Dead Tree Book Acquisition Disorder) with an alphabet soup of more more modern-day hoarding behaviors: EBAD (E-Book Acquistion Disorder), EGAD (Electronic Gadget Acquisition Disorder), and ABAD (Audiobook Acquisition Disorder). Of course, there's also MYBAD (Movie and YouTube Acquisition Disorder: the hoarding or obsessive viewing of digital films and videos, some based on books). If any of these syndromes describes you, take heart: there's probably an app for that! - 8/9/2013
You know, in some cultures, when you save someone's life, you're then responsible for it."Allison thought about telling him she'd seen the same movie and was pretty sure the claim was bogus. Instead, she offered her own bit of nonsense. "In some cultures, saving a life is considered an interference with fate and is punishable by death.
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife." ~ Jane Austin. Arguably one of the best opening lines in literary history (I said ARGUABLY doesn't mean I want to argue). However, to make it a modern retelling it would have to read: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man or women in possession of a good fortune, just treading water or so broke it aint no joke, must be in want of a life partner.