A Quote by Mitch Hedberg
I met the girl who works at the Doubletree front desk, she gave me her number. It's ZERO. I tried to call from here, some other woman answered. "You sound older!"
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I met this girl, she was an actress, and she gave me her number. It started with 555.
We met Ferg at one of our shows in L.A. She gave us her number. For the song 'Shut Up' on Elephunk, we needed a vocalist. Someone said 'yo, remember that white girl - we should get her in the studio.' Since then, we've become friends. She's one of the guys now, she isn't just a girl.
God sent me a woman who was an older woman - who wasn't much older than me but she was older in the sense (of her relationship with) the Lord...She started guiding me. She was very much a model for my life.
Ava Gardner was the most beautiful woman in the world, and it's wonderful that she didn't cut up her face. She addressed aging by picking up her chin and receiving the light in a better way. And she looked like a woman. She never tried to look like a girl.
That adolescent me, the girl who was, as I remember her, insecure, unsure, dreaming, yearning, longing, that girl who was hard on herself, who was cowardly and brave, who was confused and determined-that girl who was me-still exists. I call on her when I write. I am the me of today-the person who has become a woman, a mother, a writer. Yet I am the me of all those other days as well. I believe in the reality of that past.
But the thought arrived inside her like a train: Marya Morevna, all in black, here and now, was a point at which all the women she had been met—the Yaichkan and the Leningrader and the chyerti maiden; the girl who saw the birds, and the girl who never did—the woman she was and the woman she might have been and the woman she would always be, forever intersecting and colliding, a thousand birds falling from a thousand oaks, over and over.
I met a girl when I was in third grade. Kids were beating her up - she was deaf - so I walked her home. Her parents were deaf and they gave me the alphabet on a card. I learned it and taught my friends how to do the alphabet - which was outlawed in our school because we used to talk to each other in class.
One summer morning at sunrise a long time ago I met a little girl with a book under her arm. I asked her why she was out so early and she answered that there were too many books and far too little time. And there she was absolutely right.
I've never met a size zero person. Is Paris Hilton a size zero? I've met her. She looked very thin, but she looked very healthy. She had beautiful skin.
In my mind, I gave the woman gifts. I gave her a candle stub. I gave her a box of wooden kitchen matches. I gave her a cake of Lifebuoy soap. I gave her a ceilingful of glow-in-the-dark planets. I gave her a bald baby doll. I gave her a ripe fig, sweet as new wood, and a milkdrop from its stem. I gave her a peppermint puff. I gave her a bouquet of four roses. I gave her fat earthworms for her grave. I gave her a fish from Roebuck Lake, a vial of my sweat for it to swim in.
Father, One day, a woman walked into my life. I hurt her deeply with the harshest words possible. I pushed her away as much as I could. But, she still came back to me. She is so much like me; I look at myself often when I look at her. She has the physical wounds that I have. The tears that fill my brain are flowing through her heart as well. I gave her those wounds. I made her cry. I should not have met her. I should not have allowed her to come into the life of a guy like me. Father, I'm regretting it. This is the first time... that I have ever regretted anything in my life.
Promise me, man. If anything ever happens to me, promise me you'll take care of Angelina. She's something special, Micah. Heart way too big for her own good. I worry because she doesn't see everyone for who they are. She's too busy looking for the good. I've tried to get her to adopt some cynicism, but the truth of the matter is, she wouldn't be the same girl if she did.
I missed the sound of her shuffling her homework while I listened to music on her bed. I missed the cold of her feet against my legs when she climbed into bed. I missed the shape of her shadow where it fell across the page of my book. I missed the smell of her hair and the sound of her breath and my Rilke on her nightstand and her wet towel thrown over the back of her desk chair. It felt like I should be sated after having a whole day with her, but it just made me miss her more.
I'm working on something a little different. It's a technique I call, 'tantric abstinence.' Now, the way this works is I meet a woman, I charm the heck out of her, and then right as she's considering sleeping with me, I say something so awkward that she leaves and I have to start over again with another woman entirely.
I once dated a girl that was wild. She was so wild that one night she gave her phone number to the mechanical bull.
Aja gave Loor an up and down once-over. She then said, "Is Loor a man's name or a woman's name?" Ouch. Loor answered, "It is the name of a legendary hero on Zadaa. A woman." Really?" Aja said. "What did she do that was so heroic?" She killed her enemies and ate them.
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