A Quote by Ricki-Lee Coulter
I'm not the girl that sits at home on a Saturday night plaiting her girlfriend's hair, drinking tea and watching romantic comedies.
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I first fell in love with comedy when I'd visit my granny as a kid. Trips to her house meant staying up late drinking Coca-Cola and watching 'Saturday Night Live'.
We try to be present when we are drinking our tea, which isn't as easy as it sounds. It's very easy to think, right now I'm going to be really present while I'm drinking my tea, here I am drinking my tea, and I'm so present, look this is easy, I am here drinking my tea and I know I'm drinking my tea blah blah blah blah... right? And the one place where the mind is not, is here. It's just thinking about being here.
A quarter past three," she exclaimed, catching sight of the bedside clock. "What a time to be drinking tea!" "Anytime," Harold told her, "is time to be drinking tea.
As loud as fans were , they need to go home now and start soaking up a lot of tea, drinking a lot of tea for the next 36 hours, whatever the case may be, 'cause they need to be just as loud Thursday night.
Ah, it was a fine night, a warm night, a wine-drinking night, a moony night, and a night to hug your girl and talk and spit and be heavengoing.
I gestured my frustration. “I don’t know. She’s much better already. She wasn’t talking half an hour ago. Look at her now.” We all turned, finding Ceri sobbing quietly and drinking her tea in small reverent sips as the pixy girls hovered over her. Three were plating her long, fair hair and another was singing to her. Okay,” I said as we turned back. “Bad example.
I like watching romantic comedies and animation.
I call you once...you never dialed back.
Twice...you never dialed back.
Saturday morning, live, I'm on Soul Train, talkin' to Don Cornelius.
Saturday night, my phone rings...
Saturday night, I won't answer.
Saturday night, my phone rings again...
Saturday night, I don't answer.
My perfect Valentine's Day would be coming home to a giant box waiting for me, and it has a gorgeous dress and high-heeled shoes and a handbag. And someone's waiting to do my hair and makeup. You can tell I've been in too many romantic comedies.
I'm a really big homebody. If I had my way, a typical Saturday night would be staying home, ordering in, watching a movie or catching up on some shows.
When Britney shaves off all her hair and beats paparazzi with umbrellas - that's what celebrities are supposed to do. They're not supposed to be reasonable, middle-aged guys drinking organic tea talking about semiotics.
Sometimes if somebody you feel you need... the whole universe tells you that you have to have her, you start watching her favorite TV shows all night, you start buying her the things she needs, you start drinking her drinks, you start smoking her bad cigarettes, you start picking up her nuances in her voice, you sleep in safe sometimes the most dangerous thing... this is called Mojo Pin.
When you sit in a café, with a lot of music in the background and a lot of projects in your head, you're not really drinking your coffee or your tea. You're drinking your projects, you're drinking your worries. You are not real, and the coffee is not real either. Your coffee can only reveal itself to you as a reality when you go back to your self and produce your true presence, freeing yourself from the past, the future, and from your worries. When you are real, the tea also becomes real and the encounter between you and the tea is real. This is genuine tea drinking.
I love romantic comedies. When I am at home, and if I want to watch something, I would probably watch a romantic comedy.
In a shooting day in the U.K., every few hours, everyone takes a bit of a tea break - not coffee, but a tea break. They bring out these little finger sandwiches with the crust cut off. Everyone sits around for a few minutes, with their pinkies in the air, drinking. It's so cultured.
I. At Tea THE kettle descants in a cosy drone, And the young wife looks in her husband's face, And then in her guest's, and shows in her own Her sense that she fills an envied place; And the visiting lady is all abloom, And says there was never so sweet a room. And the happy young housewife does not know That the woman beside her was his first choice, Till the fates ordained it could not be so.... Betraying nothing in look or voice The guest sits smiling and sips her tea, And he throws her a stray glance yearningly.
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