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He was there all hours of the day, rain or shine, lost in the peace of his mellow being. He returned none of our casual hellos and friendly waves.
All Hands on Dick, a film that French director Georges Méliès called, “The most stimulating cinematic treasure since my The Conquest of the Pole.”
You: Uber, why are we taking Broadway? Uber: We are briefly stopping at your ex-girlfriend Karen’s house on the way. You two need to talk…
Cheryl senses my sadness/frustration/anger/anything-cry-worthy-even-if-it’s-just-a-movie and will suddenly be on my doorstep with brownies in hand.
Dear Joan, I looked up your name on LinkedIn---because that’s how much I care about this job. I seriously need you to hire me.
One of the recurring characters in season four is Frasier Crane, who is a psychologist. And yet, "Game of Thrones" doesn’t have any psychologists.
My lifeboat has sprung several leaks. They pale in comparison to the multitude of plot and character holes in this final season.
The crumbs on my face, the milk mustache, the hand entirely within the cookie jar—these are all circumstantial and prove nothing. NO COOKIE!
Then right on cue, the whole complex became a mashup of Duck Soup: Mrs. Tyndale burst out of her door singing what sounded like some sort of aria.
Now’s the time to fix your emotional, psychic, and spiritual energy on a single person who thinks of you as the weird and moderately asexual kid.
“Yo, it’s me: the brand-new condo that sits on the same lot that rent-controlled housing used to be on."
The meaning of life is being in a bathtub, no matter what the circumstances are. It’s joining a group to roll a beached whale back into the sea.