I used to go to the same club every week in my home town, and even there I'd always stay at the back of the queue. I never once assumed I could just walk in.
I took a job in a comedy club - not doing stand-up comedy, because that's my idea of hell, but in the office - and I went traveling.
Now when an American has an idea, he directly seeks a second American to share it. If there be three, they elect a president and two secretaries. Given four, they name a keeper of records, and the office is ready for work; five, they convene a general meeting, and the club is fully constituted.
Every day I am being told to sign up for Tumblr, Yammer, Friendfeed, Plaxo, Last.fm, ping.fm or the hot social-media tool du jour that happened to get mentioned on Mashable.com. It is like a social-media arms race. Each one of these new tools is like a cool new night club. Hot today, gone tomorrow, replaced with something else.
Barcelona is always a club that, at the beginning of the season, wants to win everything. I will try my best to do that with them and I'm sure I will help as much as I can.
I also go on long walks with my dog, a golden retriever named Breeze-and I work out with weights at a health club a couple of times a week.
I had no interest in sports so I didn't make friends in that traditional way where kids are in public school and they go and they join clubs, and play sports. So I kind of had to find my own way to make friends and get attention and so I just was the class clown.
When I heard the draw I was out on the golf course. I had an eight-iron in one hand and my mobile in the other. When we came out with United, my club went further than the ball.
Yes, Manchester United are the best team in England, but you have to ask how good has the Premier League been since I left? If I was at a top club in England I think the title race might have been a lot closer this year.
My parent are very proud, but Dad ripped into me for throwing a club on the 11th. He's happy with the way I played, but he always has to have something to moan about!
I'm not going to pay good money to join a club that lets in people like me.
As soon as you put men together, they somehow sink, corporatively, below the level of the worst of the individuals composing it. Collect scholars on a club committee, or men of science on a jury; all their virtues vanish, and their vices pop out, reinforced by the self-confidence which the power of numbers is bound to bestow.
Country music in the mid-'90s was a big influence on my career, and I played all the songs that are referenced in '94' back in my club days. Joe Diffie was rocking a sick mullet, and he was hotter than ever... just putting out monster hit after monster hit. It totally takes me back to those days, and it makes me smile every time I hear it.
As players, you just play for the club. I love Man United, I'm going to play for Man United, and that's what my focus is on.
One old lady who wants her head lifted wouldn't be so bad, but you multiply her two hundred and fifty thousand times and what you get is a book club.
Every club has three types: fans, parasites and people who work their bollocks off, even ladies.
As I have indicated some time ago, I intend to divest my shareholding when I leave the Club. In doing so, my overriding principle is that I shall do what I believe is best for the future of Celtic. I have also indicated my intention that my shareholding will be made available to be held broadly amongst the supporters and existing shareholders of the Club. I believe that this should produce the best structure of ownership for the Club and the Company.
It would've cost less, and left the previous owners with nothing, to go into liquidation. But it would also be humiliating for Celtic. So we paid all the bills. Celtic means the same to me as it does to other fans. I identify with the club and wish to be proud of it.
What happens when you're in a crash is you join a crash club, and you talk endlessly about your crash because you don't want to bore your friends with it. And they've heard about the crash so many times.
My mom had bought this camera to take classes herself and I remember working with her on it, understanding how the stop-motion [worked], having a high shutter speed and things like that. Long before I picked it up myself, I remember being on a slide at a country club going into the water and wanting my mother to put in on a high shutter speed so she could catch me on the slide without it being blurred. I remember having fun with her: "Let me go on the slide and you'll catch me in motion!" Those are some of the little moments in my artistic making.
I think one of the ways that these young singers got started is that they would end up in clubs. And a lot of them were mafia owned. And so there was almost an unspoken kind of mafia sponsorship, which is just a very interesting part of that area's music history.
Paul Scholes was the jewel in the crown, the first name on the teamsheet and unquestionably one of the finest England players of the age. He flourished at once in the international arena, which didn't surprise me given his fabulous all-round attributes. He had almost everything - talent, intelligence, courage. His only blemish, which he never really shook off, was his tackling. There was always the chance of that red mist coming down. Overall, though, Paul was a wonderful player and he's a lovely lad, a credit to his club and to himself.
I would never join a country club with standards so low as to allow me as a member.
I ordered a club sandwich, but I'm not even a member. "I like my sandwiches with three pieces of bread." "Well, so do I!" "Then let's form a club." "OK, but we need some more stipulations. Instead of cutting the sandwich once, let's cut it again. Yes, four triangles, arranged in a circle, and in the middle we will dump chips." "How do you feel about frilly toothpicks?" "I'm for 'em!" "Well, this club is formed."
The officers of the branch of the Force (the Obscene Publications Squad) have a discouraging club tie, on which a book is depicted being cut in half by a larger pair of scissors.
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