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I like you because you were mad. And you're pretty. And pretty sane for a mad person.
Maureen Johnson
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Maureen Johnson
Age: 51
Born: 1973
Born: February 16
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Philadelphia
Pennsylvania
Pretty
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Sane
Mad
More quotes by Maureen Johnson
Don't get stabbed. It makes everything awkward.
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Well, what now? You have no job. I have no job. Wanna play Jenga?
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Tired, but not the kind of tired that sleep fixes.
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What are you? I asked. I'm the Ghost of the Night Before Exams. And how long did it take you to come up with that? Jazza asked. I'm a busy man, he replied.
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I realize Jubilee is a bit of a stripper name. You probably think I have heard the call of the pole.
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I still have a whopping bad case of what you call scag magnetism. I thought i had gotten rid of it there, but it looks like scary guys still materialize from thin air in my presence. They are drawn to me. I am the North Pole, and they are the explorers of love.
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Proximity doesn't breed familiarity.
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Sometimes people graduate but they don't leave. They hang around for years, for no reason. I would think of ghosts like that, I decided.
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I try to shake it loose-but these ideas, they cling. It's like I'm shackled to them with an iron chain. They rattle along behind me, dragging against the ground, always reminding me of their presence.
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I envisioned huge piles of the Elf Hotel flying off the belt, taking down everybody in sight. I had seen pictures of that Elf Hotel - it had sharp candy-cane spires that could easily impale someone. If anyone was ever going to be killed by an Elf Hotel, it would be my parents.
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Which is both gross and breathtakingly romantic. He could always have just gone upstairs and brushed his teeth, but he stayed and lurked by the fish for me.
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Every time you try to flirt with her, a puppy dies.
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Sometimes it is worth any amount of suffering just to prevent giving your parents the opportunity to be right.
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Debbie had to get up and slice me a thick piece of cake before she could answer. And I do mean thick. Harry Potter volume seven thick. I could have knocked out a burglar with this piece of cake. Once I tasted it, though, it seemed just the right size.
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The essay I had to read was called, An Essay on Criticism by Alexander Pope. The first challenge was that the essay was, in fact, a very long poem in heroic couplets. If something is called an essay, it should be an essay.
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You don't know me yet, I said. Rory was telling me she lives in a swamp, Charlotte said. That's right, I said, turning up my accent a little. These are the very first shoes I've ever owned. They sure do pinch my feet. Jerome gave a little snort.
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Some nutter's gone and pulled a Jack the Ripper.
Maureen Johnson
Having your back scratched is not the only reason to be married, but it is a good one, especially for those spots that are so hard to reach by yourself.
Maureen Johnson
You can never visit the same place twice. Each time, it's a different story. By the very act of coming back, you wipe out what came before.
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Oh my God! said one of the Ambers. Is this not the worst trip ever? Did you see the snow? She was a sharp one, this Amber. What would she notice next? The train? The moon? The hilarious vagaries of human existence? Her own head?
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