A Quote by Jennifer Rardin

The girl in me wanted to slap Lung across his face and yell, "Get your eyes off my sticky buns, ya creep! — © Jennifer Rardin
The girl in me wanted to slap Lung across his face and yell, "Get your eyes off my sticky buns, ya creep!
I do a bit called, 'You go, girl!' where I say, 'Don't tell me 'You go, girl!' I get it. I don't need you encourage me.' And nine times out of 10 after I finish the bit, some guy in the back will yell 'You go, girl!' I get a lot of that or 'I hear ya!' I don't generally - knock on fake wood - get mean heckling.
Whatcha doin', Freak Girl?" --------------------------- "What does it look like, brainiac?" I shot back, even surprising myself with the force of my jab. "I'll give you three guesses. No, wait. Don't strain yourself. Wouldn't want to hurt your head." I waved a flyer in his face, channeling my inner mean girl. "See these? I'm hanging them...on a...wall!" I spoke the last part slowly, as if addressing a dim-witted child. Which wasn't far off the mark, now that I thought about it. "With tape," I added, waving at the dispenser. "You know-sticky, sticky!
If I wanted your opinion, I'd slap it outta ya.
Something about this made Reynie uneasy. Had he done so badly? Was this meant to test his courage? He did as he was told, closing his eyes and bracing himself as best he could. "Why are you flinching?" the pencil woman asked. "I don't know. I thought maybe you were going to slap me." "Don't be ridiculous. I could slap you perfectly well with your eyes open. I'm only going to blindfold you.
He pauses when he finishes undoing the last button, then closes his eyes. I can see the pain slashed across his face, and the sight tears at me. The Republic's most wanted criminal is just a boy, sitting before me, suddenly vulnerable, laying all his weaknesses out for me to see.
Do what ya have to do to pay off yer debt with Heaven,’ he said, his concern for proper speech abandoned. ‘But ya do not die on me, ya understand? I can’t live without ya. Yer all I got, woman.’ Her breath caught in her lungs. ‘I don’t want to be here if you’re not.
Across from me at the next row of supports Jim raised his hand and touched his fingers to his thumb a few times, imitating an opening and closing beak. Negotiate. He wanted me to engage a lunatic who had already turned four people into smoking meat. Okay. I could do that. “Alright, Jeremy!” I yelled into the night. “Give me the salamander and I won’t cut your head off!” Jim put his hand over his face and did some shaking. I thought he was laughing, but I couldn’t be sure.
At first it was a bit strange and daunting to have to wear a mask, but afterwards I came to enjoy it. In warm conditions, though, it started to slip off my face. Other times they used this double-sided sticky tape, and I literally couldn't get it off my face. I would feel like I was ripping my face off and I had a lot of cuts and bruises because of it-huge red marks. People might think it was method acting.
There was no way that I wanted him to stop touching me, even for a few hours. My pulse thudded as I glanced across at the camp bed. I cleared my throat. "Wel...is there a reason we can't both take the bed? The sleeping bags zip together, don't they?" Alex stared at me without moving. "Would that be OK?" I asked, feeling nervous suddenly. The lantern light made his eyes look darker, his hair almost black. He started to smile, a grin spreading across his face. "Yes, that would be extremely OK.
For a second, he was still, blinking. Then he shook off all the blankets and coats so that his arms were free and he wrapped them around me as tightly as he could. I felt him shuddering, shuddering against me as he buried his face in my hair. I said, uselessly, "Sam, don't go." Sam cupped my face in his hands and looked me in the eyes. His eyes were yellow, sad, wolf, mine. "These stay the same. Remember that when you look at me. Remember it's me. Please."" — Grace and Sam (Shiver)
If Brock Lesnar was here right now, I'd take my boot off and throw it at him, and he'd better polish it up before he brings it back to me. Talking about he's the baddest guy in the UFC? Brock, quit eating so many raw eggs and doing push-ups because it's affecting your realm of reality. Are you kidding me? I'd slap you in your face, and you wouldn't do anything. 'I'm Brock Lesnar. I've got this $5 haircut and a knife tattooed on my chest.' I'll shove it up your face if you get in Chael Sonnen's way.
Ya lied to me and put yerself in danger. If the Three hadn’t ripped you apart, those two bastards would have. Ya gotta listen to me girl. I’ve been down this road myself.’ Riley Smirked. ‘Those guys wanted to party with you too?
My eyes adored ya Though I never laid a hand on you My eyes adored ya Like a million miles away from me you couldn't see how I adored ya So close, so close and yet so far
Jack was mid-jump when I burst into my room. I snatched his ankle,flipping him horizontal.He crashed down hard to my bed and rolled off onto the floor. And laughed. "Let's do that again! But this time I'll jump even higher." "No! No,you won't! What are you going here?" He sat up on the floor and shrugged. "I was bored." "I don't care! I'm not your babysitter!" His blue eyes twinkled.Honestly, whose eyes actually twinkle? Then his face crumpled,his lower lip jutting out.He blinked his ridiculously long eyelashes at me. "I thought we were friends." "Oh,knock it off.
Some people are saying it's a slap in the face for me to go to a competitor, but it also was a slap in my face that they would go out and trade for Matt Williams, especially when my situation was unsure.
Jack! "Where have you been,you miserable little creep?" He raised his eyebrows,a look of mock hurt on his face."This is the thanks I get?" "Give me that bat and I'll show you how grateful I am, coward!
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