Lisa Cramer: You want some advice? You never call him. But if he calls you you talk to him, then act like you have another call, keep him on hold for a long time. Like longer than you think is passable. And break dates. Always break dates. Right around the holidays cus then he's just stuck. And fellatio, the sooner the better. And allot. Act like you love it. After he's aditcted, cut him off. That's when you got him. Mirabelle: Ya, I couldn't do all that. Lisa Cramer: How come? Mirabelle: I'm from Vermont.
It was Sunday, and Mumma had gone next door with Lena and the little ones. Under the pepper tree in the yard Pa was sorting, counting, the empty bottles he would sell back: the bottles going clink clink as Pa stuck them in the sack. The fowls were fluffing in the dust and sun: that crook-neck white pullet Mumma said she would hit on the head if only she had the courage to; but she hadn't.
Christian: Look, if there's a problem, I could come back. Elder Aaron Davis: Look, maybe I'm just homesick. Christian: Homesick? For Idaho? Elder Aaron Davis: Okay, fine, but... Christian: I'm sorry, that came out wrong. I'm... It's just... When I left home, it was just 'zoom', like a rocket. But if you've never been away from home before... Have you? Elder Aaron Davis: What? I've been away from home, just not for two whole years. Christian: [in an English accent] 'Could be worse, could be raining.' Elder Aaron Davis: That's Young Frankenstein. Christian: Yeah. So two years, huh? Elder Aaron Davis: Yeah. We're not allowed to call or go home in the holidays and they're not allowed to visit. Christian: Wow, where do I sign up? Elder Aaron Davis: Hey. Happen to like my family. 'After all, a boy's best friend is his mother.' Christian: [confused for a while, then gets it] Psycho, that's Psycho, right? 'She goes a bit mad sometimes. We all go a bit mad sometimes.' [Aaron laughs] Christian: Least you got your friends here, right? Elder Aaron Davis: What, Ryder? No. We just got assigned to each other a few weeks ago. Christian: Oh. Well, better you than me.
Kevin Gnapoor: [rapping] Yo Yo Yo! All you sucka MCs ain't got nothin' on me! From my grades, to my lines you can't touch Kevin G! I'm a mathlete, so nerd is inferred, but forget what you heard I'm like James Bond the third, sh-sh-sh-shaken not stirred - I'm Kevin Gnapoor! The G's silent when I sneak through your door. And make love to your woman on the bathroom floor. I don't play it like Shaggy, you'll know it was me. Cause the next time you see her she'll be like, OOH! KEVIN G! [cut off] Mr. Duvall: Thank you Kevin, that's enough! Kevin Gnapoor: Happy holidays everybody! Mr. Duvall: K.G. and the power of 3!
I almost wish we were butterflies and liv'd but three summer days - three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.
I think holidays create so much pressure because people feel they should be having a good time. But you shouldn't.
You know you're getting old when the candles cost more than the cake.
CAPTION: And with the holidays came memories of childhood. [Speaking to the camera.] Dejected husband: And... and when I was a kid I always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, alweez, alweezelweasel, weasel, weasel... When I was a kid I was such a fucking weasel and I nnhhh... [Bangs his head into the camera.]
[first lines] Santa: 'Twas a long time ago, longer now than it seems in a place perhaps you've seen in your dreams. For the story you're about to be told began with the holiday worlds of auld. Now you've probably wondered where holidays come from. If you haven't I'd say it's time you begun.
Attempts to locate oneself within history are as natural, and as absurd, as attempts to locate oneself within astronomy. On the day that I was born, 13 April 1949, nineteen senior Nazi officials were convicted at Nuremberg, including Hitler's former envoy to the Vatican, Baron Ernst von Weizsacker, who was found guilty of planning aggression against Czechoslovakia and committing atrocities against the Jewish people. On the same day, the State of Israel celebrated its first Passover seder and the United Nations, still meeting in those days at Flushing Meadow in Queens, voted to consider the Jewish state's application for membership. In Damascus, eleven newspapers were closed by the regime of General Hosni Zayim. In America, the National Committee on Alcoholism announced an upcoming 'A-Day' under the non-uplifting slogan: 'You can drink
I thought about the days i had handed over to a bottle..the nights i can't remember..the mornings i slept thru..all the time spent running from myself.
This, after all, was the month in which families began tightening and closing and sealing; from Thanksgiving to the New Year, everybody's world contracted, day by day, into the microcosmic single festive household, each with its own rituals and obsessions, rules and dreams. You didn't feel you could call people. They didn't feel they could phone you. How does one cry for help from these seasonal prisons?
We mark some days as fair, some as foul, because we do not see that the character of every day as identical
Thanksgiving dinners take eighteen hours to prepare. They are consumed in twelve minutes. Half-times take twelve minutes. This is not coincidence.
My experience in Amsterdam is that cyclists ride where the hell they like and aim in a state of rage at all pedestrians while ringing their bell loudly, the concept of avoiding people being foreign to them. My dream holiday would be a) a ticket to Amsterdam b) immunity from prosecution and c) a baseball bat.
A diplomat is a man who always remembers a woman's birthday but never remembers her age.
Christmas it seems to me is a necessary festival; we require a season when we can regret all the flaws in our human relationships: it is the feast of failure, sad but consoling.
Glen had a disability more disfiguring than a burn and more terrifying than cancer. Glen had been born on the day after Christmas.
A bell, though -- that's fucked up.
I count too heavily on birthdays, though I know I shouldn't. Inevitably I begin to assess my life by them, figure out how I'm doing by how many people remember; it's like the old fantasy of attending your own funeral: You get to see who your friends are, get to see who shows up.
Thank you,
It came to him that he didn't like holidays. . . . They bore down on you. Each one always ended up feeling like an exam . . .
On a busy day twenty-two thousand people come to visit Santa, and I was told that it is an elf's lot to remain merry in the face of torment and adversity. I promised to keep that in mind.
In the old days, it was not called the Holiday Season; the Christians called it 'Christmas' and went to church; the Jews called it 'Hanukkah' and went to synagogue; the atheists went to parties and drank. People passing each other on the street would say 'Merry Christmas!' or 'Happy Hanukkah!' or (to the atheists) 'Look out for the wall!
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