A party like this isn't about the surprise factor. It's about someone going to so much trouble that it just... overwhelms you.
This is what's so annoying about going out with Luke. You can't get away with anything.
Okay. Now my skin is really prickling. I've read all the Harry Potter books, all five of them. I don't remember any half-blood prince. "What's this?" Trying to sound casual, I point at the ad, "What's Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince?" "That's the latest book," Garth the other trainee, says. "It came out ages ago." I can't help gasping. "There's a sixth Harry Potter?" "There's a seventh out soon!" Diana steps forward eagerly. "And guess what happens at the end of book six-" "Shh!" exclaims Nicole, the other nurse. "Don't tell her!
Everyone keeps saying I’ll pick it up. But what if I don’t? I did algebra for three years, and I never picked that up.
My voice is clotted with unshed tears.
Ok. don't panic. Don't panic. It's only a VISA bill. It's a piece of paper; a few numbers. I mean, just how scary can a few numbers be?
All this time, I wasn't hungry for success, I was hungry.
A divorce is like a controlled explosion. Everyone on the outside is OK.
She was the most beautiful thing you ever saw. She was radiant. And she was wearing this necklace... When you see the necklace in the painting, it all makes sense. He loved her. Even if she lived to one hundred and five without ever getting an answer.
You know what Hans told me last week?" she says as I open the door of my fitting room. "He told me to write down a list of everything I wanted to say about that women-and then tear it up. He said I'd feel a sense of freedom." "Oh right," I say interestedly. "So what happened?" "I wrote it all down," says Laurel. "And then I mailed it to her!
"This is me, remember!" retorts Suze. "I know what you're like! You used to throw all your bank statements into the trash and hope a complete stranger would pay off your bills!" This is what happens. You tell your friends your most personal secrets, and they use them against you.
It's a GIRL. It's a little girl, with scrunched-up petal lips and a tuft of dark hair and hands in tiny fits, up by her ears. All that time, that's who was in there. And it's weird, but the minute I saw her I just thought: IT'S YOU. Of course it is.
We're playing Scrabble. It's a nightmare." "Scrabble?" He sounds surprised. "Scrabble's great." "Not when you're playing with a family of geniuses, it's not. They all put words like 'iridiums'. And I put 'pig'.
Just because of that one disastrous blind date she had last year, where the guy turned out to be fifty-nine, not thirty-nine (He claimed it was a typo. Yeah, I’m sure his finger just happened to slip two spaces to the left).
I bet he never goes on YouTube. He's too busy. It's only tragic cases like you and me who are always online.
You panicked". Venetia's voice is suddenly throbbing, as though she can't control a long-buried anger. "You panicked, Luke, and we lost the best relationship that we had. Everyone was jealous of us at Cambridge, everyone. We were perfect together." We weren't perfect!" He looks at her incredulously. "And I didn't panic---" You did! You couldn't cope with the commitment! It frightened you!" It did not frighten me!" Luke shouts, exasperated. "It made me realize you weren't the person I wanted to have children with. Or spend the rest of my life with. Ever. And that's why I ended it!
Great. Just great. One glimpse of his body and I have a full-blown crush. I honestly thought I was a bit deeper than that.
I did a lot of shopping for her in Tokyo because the colors here are very conservative. A shopaholic would have a coat in every color and lots of accessories
That's the trouble with having the whole world love you. One day, you wake up and it's flirting with your best friend instead. And you don't know what to do. You're thrown.
I had a craving for pineapple and a pink cardigan" - Becky Bloomwood Shopaholic and Baby
We both gaze down at my swollen tummy for a while. I still can't quite get my head round the fact that there's a baby inside my body. Which has got to come out... somehow. OK, let's not go there. There's still time for them to invent something.
Don’t think about it. Don’t think about what could have been. It’s too unbearable.
Have you ever thought about the grid of Manhattan?' It's like...a metaphor for life. You think you have the freedom to walk anywhere. But in fact... you are strictly controlled. Up or down. Left or right. Nothing in between. No other options.' Life should be like an open space...you should be able to walk in whatever direction you choose.
Shopping is actually very similar to farming a field. You can't keep buying the same thing, you have to have a bit of variety. Otherwise you get bored and stop enjoying yourself.
If I behave as though this is a completely normal situation, then maybe it will be.
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