Lead me not into temptation. Follow me instead! I know a shortcut! – T-SHIRT.
My life is just like a soap opera filmed in a psychiatric ward. – T-SHIRT.
Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance... The five stages of waking up.
Charley Davidson, Private Investigator, Because No One Is Better At Investigating Your Privates.
Ahhh, friday... My second favorite F-word. -T-shirt.
Are you free?” he asked. “No, but I’m on sale for a dollar ninety-nine.
No offense, but what on earth could I ask of you that would be a great hardship?” His gaze rested on my mouth before making its way to my eyes again. “You could ask for the world, and then where would civilization be when I conquered it and laid it at your feet?
A lot of people are alive because I shed too much hair to get away with murder.
You know how you heal really fast?” I stood and walked to the doorway that separated our offices. “Yes,” I answered, wondering where she was going with this. She was sucking the side of her index finger. “Maybe if you lick my cut, your spit will heal me fast, too.” “Dude,” I said, tamping down a giggle, “I’m not licking your cut.” “Just lick me.” She held out her finger. “This is going to be tender for days.” “I’m not licking you.” A line I rarely said aloud.
Sometimes I crave pickles. Other times I crave the blood of my enemy. Weird. – CHARLEY DAVIDSON.
I have seen things. Awful things. Empty coffee cup things.
A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory. – STEVEN WRIGHT.
The guy had more secrets than Victoria.
Are you free?” he asked. “No, but I’m on sale for a dollar ninety-nine.” He sighed, adding fuel to the fire. “Do you have a minute?” I patted my pockets. “Not on me, but I can go through the couch cushions.
Most of what I call “cooking” is just melting cheese on stuff.
You are the worst greeter in the history of greeters ever. In the history. Of time. And greeters.” “Greeter? You think I’m a greeter?” Talk about a demotion. “Yes. To the other side?” She pointed up. “Dude, calling me a greeter is like calling Saint Peter a ticket taker.
Damn it, I needed The Idiot’s Guide to Grim Reaperism.
There must be a special, less volcanic portion of hell that was partitioned off and set aside for people who weren’t all bad, just a little vindictive. They could call it the drama queen ward. It would be a huge hit.
You realize that by summoning me here, you signed your own death warrant.” Demons were nothing to take lightly. I’d seen what they were capable of, but I also knew they were no match against the light that shone inside me. “I do,” it said, and I fought to place the language we were speaking. I knew it was ancient. Possibly the first language ever spoken in the universe. “Unless we sign yours first.” “Is that what you think will happen here?” “Dutch,” Reyes said into my ear, “stop playing with your dinner.
She said her mother has a strap-on named Event Horizon.