As I finished my rice, I sketched out the plot of a pornographic adventure film called The Massage Room. Sirien, a young girl from northern Thailand, falls hopelessly in love with Bob, an American student who winds up in the massage parlor by accident, dragged there by his buddies after a fatefully boozy evening. Bob...
If you’re not, you will be when you poke your eye out on one of them.
Yeah, I can really paint a verbal picture,” I responded dryly.
You’re the picture of respectability and moral character…You expect me to believe you were your parents’ worst nightmare? What was your criminal act of choice—drunken bar fights? Or maybe grand theft auto? Don’t tell me you sold the crown jewels to buy drugs…It’s so disappointingly cliché.
You have quite a repertoire of ‘pants’ references, don’t you?
I paused for a moment, debating whether to turn and look what was happening. My senses told me Obo’s presence was still at my side, and turning my face into the barrel of a gun seemed like an ill-advised way to cap off this day of monumentally stupid decisions.
The great thing about the Internet isn’t that you can reconnect with old friends or stay up to date with developing world events or send pictures of newborns immediately around the world. It is simply that you can log on to jcpenney.com from anywhere and order fresh underwear immediately after seeing your life flash before...
Rupert: “… At this rate, somebody is bound to upset the Warlock once too often, and we’ll end up with a Court full of bemused looking toads.””He wouldn’t dare use his magic here,” said the Champion.”Don’t bet on it,” said Rupert. “The High Warlock has all the practicality and self-preservation instincts of a depressed lemming.
If money’s the god people worship, I’d rather go worship the devil instead.
My instincts told me that death would somehow be…different. But my rational mind reminded me that I had probably tempted fate one too many times. At least, I thought it was my rational mind. It sure seemed like the usual voice inside my head. Thank God there was only one of them.
I’m so honest, that in order to compliment you, I’d improve you first.
Wes sat in a cracked vinyl booth picking at his fries and listening to Amanda go on and on about the dress she’d found. ‘…and it has these little lavender bows. Oh, Wes, I can’t wait ’til you see it.’ She gesticulated wildly, and her only saving grace right now was her amazing rack that...
I decided that a movie marathon was clearly in order. I tried to narrow down the options. Anything romantic was definitely out, as was anything involving space travel, kings, or handsome princes. Preferably there should be no good-looking men whatsoever, lest they remind me of Aeron. Sadly, that eliminated practically everything.
Dude, if you hate the show, all you had to do was say so.