“Did someone forget the golden rule?”
Look, but don’t touch…
Taste, but don’t swallow.”
“smeep (smep) v.
1. To give forth a short, shrill cry or sound. 2. To utter in a thin, shrill voice in extreme fandom.”
“Look, I’m not saying I look like a catfish or anything, but have you fucking seen him? He’s the kind of guy who makes Channing Fuck-My-Face Tatum dancing to Pony in Magic Mike look like an incompetent and ungraceful slouch.”
“But who are you, Jeffrey? Does Shumaker & Gates represent you as well?”
“Oh, yes! Of course. Why else would I be here?” Jeffrey laughed.
“And do you write under your real name or a pen name?”
“Oh. A pen name,” Jeffrey said quickly.
“And what name would that be?” asked Michael.
With his gears turning, I recognized the instant he got an idea.
“Nicholas Sparks,” Jeffrey replied.”
“Why a flower had become that, I had no idea. Something about flowers always made me think about the reproductive system.The scent of a rose—and any other flower—was like stuffing your nose into a vagina. What attracts bees to the aroma is the very reason flowers pollinate and continue to flourish. Smelling a flower was the equivalent to sniffing its reproductive organs.I shrugged and plucked the flower from its vase, pinning it to my lapel. This’ll do. I feel like such a pussy.”
“Now, I’ll admit, he’s nothing of which I was ashamed, but these girls were not only acting is if I was going to take each one of them into my bed,but also that my dick sported a red cape with a very large triangle-enclosed ‘S’ on its shaft.”
“Every good story needs the token gay guy, even if that story is your own.”
“Um, Monica?” “Yeah?” I asked cheerily. “Are you gonna be at the thing tonight?” The thing. I smiled. “Yeah. I’ll be there.” “Good.” He paused. “It will give you some time to come up with an explanation as to why you were whispering my name in the bathtub.”
“I’d apparently misunderstood the sexual deprivation and borderline psychotic fantasies of this country’s romance-reading community.”
“Nope. I’m done. I’ve had it. From now on I’m swearing off men entirely and living a celibate and contented life without the penis. It can be done.”
“They shouted, pulled my hair, tried to rip off my clothes, and grabbed my junk. Phones flew up into the air, snapping videos and pictures. Women threw room keys, flowers, underpants, pennies, and I believe I even saw a tampon fly.”
“I sighed. “Monica? I haven’t waxed my eyebrows, or any other essential areas, in over a month. I have four gray hairs at the age of twenty-nine. Three newfound whiskers on my chin. The bags under my eyes are atrocious and I’ve gone six months without using moisturizer on my face. I’m a fucking wreck!”
“I yanked up her skirt and pressed my fingers inside of her, ensuring she was ready. I’d seen this done in the movies—I’m pretty sure Armond did it in book two, as well—and”
“Success is the development of the power with which to get whatever one wants in life without interfering with the rights of others.”
“You cannot step in the same river twice,” because it is always flowing.”
“VI was predecessor to hundreds of word processing systems. By now, Unix folks see it as a bit stodgy—it hasn’t the versatility of Gnu-Emacs, nor the friendliness of more modern editors. Despite that, VI shows up on every Unix system.”
“Standing at the prow of the pitching deck of the trawler, unscrewing the top of his flask, Frank Fontaine asked himself: Am I after fish—or a wild goose? Sure, he always dreamed about a big-paying long con, but this one was threatening to go on indefinitely—and though it was afternoon and supposedly summer, it was cold as a son of a bitch out here. Made a witch’s tit seem like a hot toddy. Was it worth giving up Gorland—becoming Fontaine? A city under the sea. It was becoming an obsession. Fontaine looked up at the streaming charcoal-colored clouds, wondered if it was going to storm again. Just being on this damn tub was too much like work. Talking to the men who picked up the fish for Rapture’s food supply, Fontaine had confirmed that Ryan had indeed built some gigantic underwater habitat, a kind of free-market utopia—and Fontaine knew what happened with utopias. Look at the Soviets—all those fine words about the proletariat had turned into gulags and breadlines. But a “utopia” was pure opportunity for a man like him. When this undersea utopia fell apart, he’d be there, with a whole society to feast on. Long as he didn’t step too hard on Ryan’s toes, he could build up an organization, get away with a pile of loot. But he had to get down to Rapture first … The trawler lurched, and so did Fontaine’s stomach. A small craft was being lowered over the side of the platform ship—a thirty-foot gig. Men descended”
“I’m going. But before I do, let me congratulate all of you on your stupidity. (Fury)”
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