I like you because you were mad. And you’re pretty. And pretty sane for a mad person.
WORTH IT and perfect are different things. No one’s perfect, yet in romance, everyone becomes WORTH IT. And that’s the trick.
It’s always awkward when someone doesn’t realize you’re joking and devotes thought time to what you’ve said. Double that when the person is wearing tinfoil.
Just then, my phone started ringing. The ring must have been damaged by the water as well, so now it had a high, keening note – kind of the sound I imagine a mermaid might make if you punched her in the face.
Go see old virgins! Now ask a strange boy out, you shy, Retarded thing!
This pool is a triumph of imagination. That’s how you win at life, Gin. You have to imagine your way through. Never say something can’t be done. There’s always a solution, even if it’s weird.
Walk really, really carefully. It’s not complicated, but if you mess up, you’ll die, so pay attention.
It was clearly one of those mornings when I was particularly American.
We study there a lot because... what other choice does society give us, right? It’s Starbucks or death, sometimes.
I guess life is full of maybes.
Even though she had been warned, she tripped over the bike. She probably tripped because she’d been warned and was telling herself not to trip over the bike. She did that sometimes. It was often easier not to know what obstacles were in the way.
You could wear the same outfit every single day and no guy – who isn’t gay – will notice.
It could have been like a fairy tale. But fairy tales aren’t real. Things don’t work like that. There’s a price for everything.
Tired, but not the kind of tired that sleep fixes.
Don’t get stabbed. It makes everything awkward.
It took a lot of women like that, a lot of women who said “I’m not going to do what you expect me to do, because you have no idea what I’m capable of. I’m going to get dirty and use tools and live the way I want” to move the world forward.
I looked at the stained-glass image of the lamb in the window above me, but that only reminded me that lambs are famous for being led to slaughter, or sometimes hanging out with lions in ill-advised relationships.
Hey! Jack the Wanker! Over here! I want your autograph!
I envisioned huge piles of the Elf Hotel flying off the belt, taking down everybody in sight. I had seen pictures of that Elf Hotel – it had sharp candy-cane spires that could easily impale someone. If anyone was ever going to be killed by an Elf Hotel, it would be my parents.
Proximity doesn’t breed familiarity.