Taking his time, Wesley carefully snipped strips of bond paper to size, gluing prison bars over the picture of the vice president of operations on the cover of the quarterly report.
Leadership within The Rollston Foundation was never an issue, since it was clear from the beginning what had to be done.
My hair doesn’t know what to think about the time change.
I want to reach the top of the world, and with you by my side, that’s possible.
The big excitement in Joe’s week came when he discovered he had no cold beer in the fridge had to risk the freezer with its cold-beer-in-a-jiffy-or-broken-glass-if-I-forget dichotomy.
All day long he kept coming back to that one particular flash of unconsciousness, sure of what it meant, yet still unwilling to look it straight in the eye.
As his arms graced the city skyline and his wife mouthed obscenities close behind, it occurred to him that he had, in awful forgetfulness, left water in the teapot and that it would now surely rust.
The fact that my dad thinks he’s losing his little girl and won’t talk to me anymore makes me want to punch him.
“I only slept with you because you promised not to fall in love with me,” Julie explained to Scott, who clearly was not listening.
Thre are three critically urgent items on my to-do list today and I don’t feel like doing any of them.
As inspired by: Glee Riot's comment here.
Inspired by Glee Riot’s suggestion, Juan closed his eyes and began to daydream about meeting a hot guy/girl in the ski lodge, but then awoke with a start wondering if this meant he was turning gay or if he could pass it off as “just curious.”
I’m sitting in an airport feeling out of place as the only person under the age of 50, not wearing a polo shirt or pancake makeup.
To prove his love, Timmy would sometimes kidnap his own turtle and demand huge, impossible ransoms, which he gladly paid.
I’m being pulled away from this amazing wooded holler today, and I’m surrounded by memories already.
I just wanted to say that a certain awesome Grey’s Anatomy character reminds me of a certain awesome Scriner, though I haven’t had the good fortune of meeting either.
It’s amazing the amount of calm ad happiness you can get from a few drops of blood.
One of New York City’s oldest laws, the NYC 3rd Law of Dimensional Displacement, clearly states that upon leaving the city, the rate of consumption of any given person’s “void” is inversely proportional by a factor of pi to the volume of displacement at their new location.
If we’re all in this together, then why do I feel as lonely as I’ve ever felt in my life?
Last night I dreamed about skiing—swooshing down the a mountain, fresh cold air, good snow, vivid and perfect… except, I was still unable to hit my turns just right and several times I had embarrassing near-falls.
The Texas air is murder - dry and rough like so much asphalt on skinned knees - and i find myself wishing for rain…
One of the things the chief enjoyed about his new job was that he could climb into the shower at home 20 minutes before he was supposed to be at work, get out, take his time getting dressed, write a Scrine sentence, and still make it to work 10 minutes early.
Chatting with the neighbors is requisite here in this part of the south, as well as a small nonchalant wave of the fingers off the steering wheel.
This sentence made of no substance and therefore contains no calories – perfectly safe if rather difficult to swallow.
Fussily smoothing her Sex in the City inspired full length skirt and petticoats, breathing a bit shallowly around the tightly cinched wide belt, Maryanne watched her boss sob into her coffee cup, cheap whiskey fumes wafting to burn at Marynanne’s delicate, unusually violet coloured eyes—it was so unfair, Maryanne thought, outraged on her boss’s behalf, how dare they ask her to do her job, couldnt’ they see she was only a woman?!?
So loath was Maryanne to make a noise at the quiet offices that she practiced not breathing for seconds at a time.
“A discriminating irreverence is the creator and protector of human liberty.”
When the resident asked him to take off his shoes before entering the bedroom because, as she so plainly put it, “God is in there,” the only thing that came to mind was the image of God stopping by the office to fill out the rental application.
“No, dammit, I am not experiencing denial,” Horace muttered to himself, shaking his head as he wandered aimlessly down the riverwalk, “I just cannot accept that the muses are dead, there’s no way anyone, even the IRS, would be so cruel… they must still be alive somewhere.”
Married life is pretty much like single life except now he owns half my yarn.
The next day, as Horace walked the riverwalk with his homemade sign reading “Free the Muses,” a grizzled old bum called him over and said, to Horace’s great shock and dismay, “There are several branches of government that are fairly adept at muse murder, but none, I’m confident, quite as good at it as the IRS.”
You can live with someone for years; you can spend entire days in each other’s company, each reading his/her own book, sitting quietly, just thinking quiet, pleasant thoughts; and yet, as soon as you are separated by a certain amount of distance and insufficient time to travel it, that is when you’ll feel the urge to call said other person and ask if s/he would like to go home and make out, *right now*.
Jodan felt a short-lived leap of excitement when he recieved the email about the “annual all fuckoff party,”