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A great place to keep your fantastic ideas, like, "Hey! I need to write more sentences about crickets and English gentlemen with unruly beards."
“You want to make friends with your carotenoid pigments.”
In the face of overwhelming odds, remember this my friends -- the outcome of every battle was decided long before the first heated word was cast or the glimmer of the first-drawn blade shined down upon your enemy; fate waits for every man at the end of the day, you and me alike, so rush towards him with a glad heart and embrace, because here, in this place of death, he alone will be your own true friend; remember, it is kings who march us into battle, but fate who marches us out, every single one of us, both the living and the dead.
“Well,” she said after hearing the description of my first date with a 28 year old just getting out of a ten year relationship and sleeping on his mother’s couch, “at least you know you could do worse; You already did.”
After the funeral, she rounded upon her husband with the following, oft-repeated directive: “When I die, nobody is permitted to speak one word about me who didn’t personally know me; if you can’t locate a friend of the ecumenical variety, then dammit, declare the whole funeral an ‘open mic’ event.”
grudknows, grinning mischieviously (and snickering behind her tackily ring adorned hand) offers Boot a virtual yellow rose - not a real one, just the idea of one, in friendship - because grudknows, of course, values boots friendship.
Just when you think you must be crazy to be thinking the way you are, you find someone, maybe more than one person, who is thinking the exact same way.
“You do have the gift of BSing,” he told me urgently, “The problem is: you’ve got standards, and you really just need to let them go die someplace already.”
Nobody I know will back up my story with a straight face if I speak to waiters in a fake accent.
When you first meet someone and they allow you a glimpse of the them that they keep for the selected few, you may think ‘weird’ when first exposed to some of their unique idiosyncracies, but mostly, if you stick around, and know them for long enough - these will probably be the quirks you come to adore or accept without question.
Although they were slightly outnumbered, Henry and Bob thought they could take the three—Henry would fight that wormy, good-for-nuthin’ Truth, Bob would roll up his sleeves and go nose-to-nose with that self-righteous bastard Justice, and American Way, if things went as Henry and Bob imagined, would just stay out of the fight because, well, it was American Way—but when Truth and Justice’s sad little overweight friend wandered off three minutes into the scuffle, only to return hefting an old, dented up aluminum baseball bat, the two men weren’t quite so sure.
As Joel Chandler Harris might have said after a week-long diet of matzoh, “The Tar-Baby is not your friend.”
Still, dogs must die; and in the end, When he is past caressing, We’ll mourn him like some human friend Whose presence was a blessing.
There is the perfume that has been your signature scent since your first encounter with it in Edinburgh, the one made by bright young whoosits in England, the one that smells of orange, pine, and patchouli and makes you smell of ginger ale when you put it on; there is the eau de toilette that you bought at a famous designer’s shop in New York, the one with packaging that made you wonder if the fragrance inside would be cloying and obnoxious, the one that turned out to be peppery and charming; there is the fragrance you bought at a spa in Arkansas, scented with essential oils of nectarine and basil, a scent that knocks you back to your suite at the writer’s colony with Proustian nostalgia; all of these fragrances are wonderful, and all have their place, but somehow there’s nothing like the French perfume that your sweet friend brought you back from Paris to remind you that there’s a reason that French perfume has the reputation that it has: namely, it’s beautiful stuff, and you cannot possibly help but feel pretty as soon as you put it on.
While his friends Henry Ford and Thomas Edison were busy changing the worlds of industry and engineering, Melville Dewey was busy revolutionizing librarianship and simplifying English Language spelling. See from: Melvil Dui, See also: Adirondak Loj [links removed]
Every time his his friends mentioned eating any type of Asian food, Gerald always interrupted, “What’s the biggest problem with making love to an Asian?” much to his friends’ amusement - not.
“I don’t trust lawyers,” Henry told his friend, “but only because of their bathroom habits.”
My friend Schuster told me he agreed with Neil Gaiman’s plan for world peace and harmony nearly 100%, and that although he loved pandas dearly, he was inclined to think a stripper on his lap might please him slightly more.
Just about the time I start to forgot all about my friend Schuster, he’ll show up with a six-pack, that human skull that’s always rolling around in the trunk of his car, and a week’s worth of hats he’s stolen from barbershops around town.
Baby’s sleeping with my best friend, dog is chewing up my loafers and the taxman’s come a’knockin’ on my woehome.
“Sure I get drunk every other day,” my friend Schuster told me last night, “but I like to think of myself as a half-sober kind of guy, which makes me an optimist.”
Thanks largely to Carl B.‘s expert bacon testimony, my friend Schuster says he better understands the acceptable consumption limits of pork, but even more importantly, he now knows how to successfully argue a temporary insanity case involving the murder of anyone who takes the last slice of bacon.
“It’s not fair,” complained Andy to the bartender (and several strangers within earshot), “she was the one who said she just wanted to be ‘friends with benefits’ and now she’s gone all Glenn Close on me.”
“I try not to judge people by their cars—I really couldn’t care less about them as status symbols—but I have noticed that I’ve never been friends with anyone who drives a BMW,” commented Juan as yet another BMW failed to yield a merge on the highway.
“I can’t buy a Mercedes,” explained my friend, “I’m Jewish.”
Pepe sped to the scene where he encountered a burglarized chicken coop and broken eggs everywhere; as he interviewed the witnesses he heard the same thing over and over, “that was one pollo loco, hombre.”
“Think again,” the Wild Coyote told El Keitho as the squaws moved in closer, “the odds are actually 1000 to 1, because hombre, I’m out of here.”
Being new to the group, Evelyn had no way of knowing that whenever Rufus offhandedly brought up what he referred to as “his Hemingway years,” the best thing to do was walk away, and certainly, under no circumstances whatsoever, make the mistake of saying, “Hemingway? I love Hemingway;” but I’m sure she knows better now.
My friend Schuster doesn’t pull any punches when it comes to Rufus’ feelings and calls him loser and “a pathetic waste of flesh and blood” all the time, but they’ve started hanging out together again on weekends now that Schuster’s pawned his gun.
They are never better than when they indulge you and allow you to rant.
Friends are the people who, regardless of the passage of time, always feel like friends.
Rufus thought that Christmas was a good time to appreciate all your friends, and my friend Schuster agreed so much that he gave Rufus a big hug without once turning into a choke hold.
Muriel put out the Big Wish for more friends, but she wasn’t specific enough in her request; when she was promptly invited to a Pampered Chef party, she knew she had nobody but herself to blame.
Muriel continued to honor her resolution to make more female friends, though slogging through gaggles of candidates who disliked Star Wars and loved the Oprah Book Club was morally exhausting.
There are some snippets of conversation with friends that are so freakishly weird you would just like to pretend that you never, ever heard them.
A sudden change in the jet stream sent Hurricane Cheryl hurtling through Denver leaving used Kleenexes and other bits of detritus behind as she cut a swath from my living room to Salem…but it was still great to see her.
“I love you so much, I want to start a fire just so I can save you from it.”
Enormous cut of meat, slight breeze, friends on their way—it’s going to be a great day.
My first golf dream ever involved my friends taunting me at the first tee, my drive hooking severly into the woods, a lost ball, and a discovery that I'd lost several clubs between here and there, so if you discount the 17 iron I found more than a little useless, it was, all in all, very realistic.
Placing a high value on comfort, Henry carefully chose friends, words, coffee mugs, and underwear.
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