Peanut butter and jelly is like the older, more serious brother to egg salad sandwich. I’m an only child, so I eat both with incredible sadness.
In middle school, I got picked on a lot. But boy, it sure felt good to get picked, because who doesn’t like to get chosen and called out as special?
I wish I had a body like fog or mist, and could move mysteriously. But genetics being what they are, I’m stuck with a body like haze.
Knocking on a door is so violent. Instead, try talking to the door to get it to open up to you. I should write a self-help book for door-to-door salesmen.
A circular table that spins around is a great way to make a romantic dinner for two with three people less awkward. I’ll pay for myself, I promise.
I’m 33, and an 18-year-old girl called me old. I said, “You may be temporarily young, but you’ll forever be childish.” Then I put gum in her hair.
The last 33 years of my life have been a blur, like a hummingbird’s beating wings. Time flies, but not backwards, like a hummingbird can.
The Book of Life, I’m still writing it—both literally and literarily. So far I’ve written the Table of Contents. Right now it’s more of a coffee table.
I refer to myself as he, the third person, because the first two people are out on a date. They probably expect me to pick up their tab.
It’s better if you don’t come at all, then come and act like you don’t want to be here. The same applies to there, when I’m there, which is also confusingly here, though it’s not here it’s there.
I was shameless in my supermarket-shelf mass-market taste. I loved King, Evanovich, Grisham and Brown. I won't lie; the oficial-looking filing cabinet in the corner is actually stuffed full of my paperbacks.
Pulling out onto the highway I noticed a stone pillar commemorating the Donner Party. They were a true testament to the American spirit, push forward at all costs and eat the dead when necessary. Wasn’t that the American dream in a nutshell.
The rest of the morning would consist of checking on a pothole in the parking lot of the village clinic and writing up a schedule for the community centre that might finally settle the ongoing feud between the local quilting group and the bridge club...
There we were, filled with pure animal need, as he pinned me to the wooden table, and cruelly whipped my naked bottom; the two of us sweaty and panting, me screaming, him grunting, our primal sexual natures overprinting the tea room’s pretence at g...
Appeal. Guy's like you get all excited about the appeal. Don't you see that I view the very existence of an appeal as a disastrous failure? No much worse, a personal affront of the highest order for which I blame you.
The Solarians have given up something mankind has had for a million years; something worth more than atomic power, cities, agriculture, tools, fire, everything; because it's something that made everything possible (...) The tribe, sir. Cooperation be...
In Tulsa, a girl would no sooner have run around with unstraightened hair than she would have run around naked. It would have been worse than running around naked, letting everyone see your naps (40).
He swallowed. “Have you no modesty?” Never in his life had he encountered a female so quick to be naked. Of course, he’d never in his life encountered a female who should so utterly be naked at any chance.
If teaching is largely about faculty-student interaction, then we have to recognize that human interaction is changing.
Singing is the rawest thing. Having been naked in films or naked in photo shoots, it's nothing compared to singing. It's absolute nakedness. You are stripped bare! It's very strange. Acting seems much easier, in fact, because you are putting on a cos...
Nothing's sacred anymore. Those girls and I got so close. They were painting me naked every day for months. It was kind of like going to a really bizarre sleepover. It's what you guys imagine we do: One naked girl and seven pairs of hands all over he...
