I feel like this is one of those moments when I should be remembering all the great times I had with my dad, you know. The time he took me shopping for a Barbie or to the circus or fishing but my mind is a complete blank.
No it didn't. We never did any of that. He went to work, he came home, he read the paper, he went to bed, I snuck out the window. Simple. He was a very by the numbers guy. I was never very good with numbers.
He lived his life the way he thought he was supposed to. He followed the rules taught to him by his non-fishing-non-Barbie-buying dad. He worked hard. He bought a nice house. He provided for my mom. All he asked in return was for his daughter to wear white dresses and go to cotillion and want the same life that he had. What a disappointment it must have been for him to get me.
Rory, there are only two things that I trust in this entire world. The fact that I will never be able to understand what Charo is saying no matter how long she lives in this country, and you.
Buttercup is a special dog. She's extremely skittish and tends to react badly towards blonde haired females, brunette males, children of either sex, other animals, red clothing, cabbage or anyone in a uniform.
Look, I know it was bad, but this was a vicious hamster. This was like a "Damien" hamster with little beady eyes and a big forked tail and a cape with a hood and... bye bye Buttercup. Bye, Luke.
I have like six thousand pages of case studies to memorize and this whole big test on the Wal-mart phenomena coming up on Friday and because I have a life, and a job and business school's not the only thing I have to concentrate on, I'm behind and I'll probably fail, and then that little eighteen year old annoying gnat who sits behind me will get another A and make that 'I'm smart, you're dumb' face to me for the rest of the week and I'll be very upset and will possibly cry.
[to Lorelai] Well, not everyone is cut out to be their own boss. Maybe you are more of a worker bee, a follower, a ticket ripper, or the man at the concert with the orange glow stick directing you where to park.
The clock stops ringing when you throw it against the wall, giving me ample time to fall back asleep. You, however never shut-up no matter how hard I throw you against the wall, thus ensuring the wake-up process.
