I slipped at a bus stop; I went one way and my hair went the other. That was the end of my wig.
My first review for the TV movie The Bionic Showdown said I was as interesting as a bus ride.
Regarding comments attributed to me in the Los Angeles Times - allegedly made on a bus trip from Germany to Holland in 1998 - I emphatically denounce such comments as false.
I'm a big movie fan. After a show, if I'm on the bus or a plane, it's often hard to get to sleep, so I'll watch a film. An action film can even relax me.
When I was nine, we'd take a bus to the seaside. Coming back, we'd take turns entertaining, singing songs and the like. I tried some stand-up comedy. I had a captive audience in that bus. Then I realized I wanted to do more than that.
Its like a Contiki tour, getting on and off buses, getting pissed.
There will come a time when the gun owners of America, the law-abiding gun owners of America, will be the Rosa Parks and we will sit down on the front seat of the bus, case closed.
In the dime stores and bus stations, people talk of situations, read books, repeat quotations, draw conclusions on the wall.
I don't think you can having an opportunity to ride either on the front or the back or in the middle of someone else's bus doesn't dignify you.
On the evening bus, the tense, pinched faces of young file clerks and elderly secretaries tell us more than we care to know. On the expressways, middle management men pose without grace behind their wheels as they flee city and job.
I get recognised sometimes. But I just live my life. I get on the bus, I get on the subway, it's not a problem.
Life on the road can get a little one-dimensional. I didn't want to reach 40 and have to say all I'd done was look out the window of a tour bus and get drunk.
There are only so many hours you can sit on the bus and watch TV or play basketball or whatever we do to pass the time before we go out onstage.
So you think the best way to prepare kids for the real world is to bus them to a government institution where they're forced to spend all day isolated with children of their own age and adults who are paid to be with them, placed in classes that are too big to allow more than a few minutes of personal interaction with the teacher-then spend probably an hour or more everyday waiting in lunch lines, car lines, bathroom lines, recess lines, classroom lines, and are forced to progress at the speed of the slowest child in class?
Too bad brooms can't really fly. Now if you miss the bus you can't just go in your room and fly to school with a nimbus two thousand!
So I'm more at home with my backpack, sleeping in a hotel room or on a bus or on an airplane, than I am necessarily on a bed. It's weird being here. It feels like I'm standing next to my real life.
My father was in the civil service. I can remember standing in a bus shelter in the pouring rain, and that we were allowed candy floss at the end of the holiday if we had behaved.
When you live with someone on the bus, for four days a week, you really have to get along.
I had spent many years before I was 31 hearing people tell me, Oh Man, you're so funny, you need to be in television. But that and a quarter won't get you on a bus.
People do more important jobs than acting in film that should be recognised, but for some reason it's big money, so people are elevated in status. If I was a bus driver, I'm sure you wouldn't be interviewing me.
I tell my staff, we're riding a tour bus around, and we're going to stop and look at some weird stuff - but we're taking our viewers around safely. They're just looking out the window at it. I'm trying to create a sense of comfort for my center audience.
In our Nation, approximately 22.5 million children ride school buses to and from school each day, which accounts for 54 percent of all students attending grade school.
Air transport is just a glorified bus operation.
Wouldn't it be terrible if you'd spent all your life doing everything you were supposed to do, didn't drink, didn't smoke, didn't eat things, took lots of exercise, all the things you didn't want to do, and suddenly one day you were run over by a big red bus, and as the wheels were crunching into you you'd say 'Oh my god, I could have got so drunk last night!' That's the way you should live your life, as if tomorrow you'll be run over by a big red bus.
The Adderall Diaries is phenomenal. With jittery finesse and a reformed tweaker's eye for detail, Stephen Elliott captures the terrifying, hilarious, heart-strangling reality of a life whose scorched-earth physical and psycho-emotional dimensions no one could have invented - they absolutely had to be lived. By all rights, the author should either be dead or chewing his fingers in a bus station. Instead, he may well have written the memoir of an entire generation.
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