A Quote by Ivanka Trump

I don't own a blowdryer - I don't know how to use it. Most mornings, I walk to work with my hair wet. — © Ivanka Trump
I don't own a blowdryer - I don't know how to use it. Most mornings, I walk to work with my hair wet.
I don't own a blow-dryer - I don't know how to use it. Most mornings, I walk to work with my hair wet.
I'm the least vain person I know. I literally get out the shower, throw a brush through my hair, put jeans and a T-shirt on and head to the Tube and go to work most mornings. It takes seconds.
I sat up in bed. My T-shirt was soaking wet. My pillow was wet. My hair was wet. And my room was sticky and humid.
It was great to get rid of the long hair. It's such a pain that, if you look at it, it's always wet when guys wrestle: you dump gallons of conditioner in it to keep it wet so you're not choking on it. You have all kinds of stuff in it, and just maintaining it is a lot of work.
I find hair things really hard because I can't do my own hair. The only thing I use for my hair is a Tangle Teezer. It's the best thing ever for everyone that has long hair.
Discover the times when you're most creative - mornings, nights, afternoons - and clear the time to work then. Many writers find the mornings are best, and the afternoons are only good for editorial corrections, or getting the washing done. Others can only work through the night, drunk.
Oooh, that was fun." "That does it," said Jace. "I'm going to get you a dictionary for Christmas this year." "Why?" Isabelle said. "So you can look up 'fun.' I'm not sure you know what it means." Isabelle pulled the long heavy mass of her wet hair forward and wrung it out as if it were wet washing. "You're raining on my parade." "It's a pretty wet parade already, if you hadn't noticed." Jace glanced around.
Peter threw my coat at me and said we were taking the dog for a walk. He went down on one knee in the downpour and produced this ring! I looked horrible in my wellies with wet hair.
We know what hair smells like when a hot comb hits it. That's a cultural thing. We know what that smells like on Sunday mornings, usually church-related or something. In my house, it was getting ready for church and your sister was getting her hair fried.
When Donald Trump becomes president, he'll fly on a jumbo jet rebadged Hair Force One. It will be oversized to contain his massive ego, and will have all the latest and greatest blowdryer technology.
I guess I remembered clearest of all the early mornings, when the lake was cool and motionless, remembered how the bedroom smelled of the lumber it was made of and of the wet woods whose scent entered through the screen.
You have to know how to use your hair spray.
I don't like being told that's where you, you know, if you walk on set and somebody was "okay, you're here and you're going to walk over there on this line." And my reaction is always how do you know? How do you know that's what I'm going to do? How do any of us know?
I work mornings only. I go out to lunch. Afternoons I play with the baby, walk with my husband, or shovel mail.
The condition of all who are preoccupied is wretched, but most wretched is the condition of those who labor at preoccupations that are not even their own, who regulate their sleep by that of another, their walk by the pace of another, who are under orders in case of the freest things in the world-loving and hating. If these wish to know how short their life is, let them reflect how small a part of it is their own.
No one really sees pro athletes behind the scenes. They don't know how hard they work. They don't see how you work on the basics. They couldn't possibly know. You wouldn't think that someone who hits like Alex Rodriguez needs to use a tee every day. But that's how he stayed on top of it.
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