Bud Fox: Did mom give you fish for dinner? Carl Fox: Spaghetti! Your mother still makes lousy spaghetti. Bud Fox: It's called "pasta" now, dad. "Spaghetti" is out of date. Carl Fox: So am I.
Laurie Juspeczyk: [after rolling down the cab window] I'm sorry. I invited you out to dinner to catch up and have a few laughs... but there don't seem to be many laughs around these days. Dan Dreiberg: What do you expect? The Comedian's dead.
I love to cook. I'd have a dinner party, and someone would be like, 'Can you do this at my house?' So my catering partner and I - we were both struggling actresses at the time - thought, instead of getting a waitressing job, let's do what we love. We...
My eighth-grade year, I was home-schooled. I'd basically wake up, go to the gym in the morning, do a little bit of school, go to practice, do a little more school, then go back to practice. My mom had a crockpot and a mini traveling oven, so we'd be ...
Like most manic depressives, some of my symptoms included racing thoughts that I simply had to act upon - flying from New York to Paris and taking the train to Berlin; flying to Argentina in the middle of the night; spending tens of thousands of doll...
Broke my femur on a cruise with my wife in Italy. I'd walked back to my cabin after dinner with half a plate of spaghetti when I leaned in to open the door. Turns out it was already open, so I fell flat on my face like something from the Keystone Kop...
The bravery of Stanley Kramer's 'Guess Who's Coming to Dinner' amounted to two Hollywood legends - Katharine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy - telling the world that a black son-in-law is something they can live with, and so should you, especially if he lo...
I get up around 6:30. I work from about 8:00 to 1:00, take a break for lunch, work again until about 5:00, and then go for a long walk and have dinner. Then, if my wife and I have no previous plans, we decide what to do for the evening.
Blake took a small roll from the tray on the table, then put it back in favor of a larger one. And maybe a little butter. It certainly couldn't hurt. And jam...no, he drew the line at jam. She was a spy, after all.
The festivities were broken up by Pandora, who lobbed a scoop of ice cream at Lex that landed on the table with a sticky sploosh. “Don’t let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya!” she screeched, jigging back into the kitchen.
I feel nothing.” Crouching down beside her, Bercelak took a cloth from off the table and placed it over the wound. “Nothing? You feel no pain?” “Oh. I feel pain. Lots of pain. But nothing else.
Shouts of dismay rose as the red flesh splattered against the table. It was only a tomato, but one would think I was pulping a decaying heart by the noise the big, strong FIB officers were making.
The house was clean, scrubbed and immaculate, curtains washed, windows polished, but all as a man does it - the ironed curtains did not hang quite straight and there were streaks on the windows and a square showed on the table when a book was moved.
I walk through the old yellow sunlight to get to my kitchen table the poem about me lying there with the books in which I am listed among the dead and future Dylans
Honesty is not a virtue, it is a luxury. Most, who struggle to put bread on the table, face this question every day. And hunger wins this game almost every time, beta (son).
Every touch ramped her desire higher and the carnal look in Chad's eyes was making swallowing difficult.By the time the waiter served their coffee, she was ready to throw him down on the table and ravish him in front of God and everybody.
We've only been sitting here forty minutes. I'm never at the morning table less than an hour and a half. I do some of my finest plotting over breakfast coffee and raisin brioche.
...a row of tables manned by seated, serious women. Each woman looked like she could be someone's least-favourite aunt.
He drew the dagger and laid it on the table between them; a length of dragonbone and Valyrian steel, as sharp as the difference between right and wrong, between true and false, between life and death.
I don't think that women ought to sit down at table with men. It ruins conversation and I'm sure it's very bad for them. It puts ideas in their heads, and women are never at ease with themselves when they have ideas.
The greatest enemy of hunger for God is not poison but apple pie. It is not the banquet of the wicked that dulls our appetite for heaven, but endless nibbling at the table of the world. It is not the X-rated video, but the prime-time dribble of trivi...
