Andrew Shaffer Quotes

I shake his hand, and feel the jolt of electricity again from him. He laughs and raises his hand to show me the joy-buzzer in his palm.

If it's dive-bombing you from the air, bury yourself in the sand. It might lose sight of you. Also, no one likes to eat food covered in sand. No one.

We passed a pickup that was doing fifty-five in a fifty-five. Clearly a sociopath.

She hands me a security badge that says VIRGIN.

The receptionist laughs. Relax. It just means you're a first-time visitor here at Gray Holdings.

I like my tea like I like my men," I say. With the last name "Grey." But I realize that's too forward, so I add, "Black."
He raises an eyebrow.
"I mean, not that I exclusively like black men," I say, trying to recover. "I like other kinds of tea. And men."
"Have you ever tasted ... white tea, Anna?

He hands me his shopping list and I lead him through the store in search of the items. Duct tape? Plastic wrap? A hacksaw? Who is this guy, Dexter?

What if you suddenly saw a two-ton great white shark barreling through the air toward your face? Such a sight defies all logic. "That's fake," you mumble. Your brain shorts out. Your legs won't move. Without this book, the best you can hope for is to be killed in a dry pair of underwear.

Need a hand?"

I peeked at the figure on the horse's back through cracks in my fingers. My eyes slowly adjusted to the light emanating from the horse, and the figure came into focus. It was Barack Obama, clad in a white toga.

He pulled me to my feet.

"Thanks," I said. "You wouldn't believe the dream I've had."

"Try me."

"You came to me one night, and said my friend had been hit by a train…and…is that a unicorn? I asked, squinting at the curled horn sprouting up between the horse's ears.

"I call her Little Beast."

I ran my fingers through the unicorn's silken hair, which left rainbow glitter on my hand. The headache that had plagued me off and on all weekend was gone. There was no pain in my knee, or anywhere else in my body. "Is this heaven?"

"No," Barack said. "It's Iowa."

And then suddenly we weren't in the cemetery anymore. We were on a baseball diamond at the edge of a cornfield.

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Most times, my mind is just an ongoing, present-tense, first-person monologue. It's like I'm writing a novel, constantly, but only in my brain.

You can survive up to three weeks without food. You can only survive for three days without water. No one knows how many days you can survive without caffeine.

The people are so small, they look like ants (although they're Walmart customers, so they look like obese ants).

No man is an island," he says. "Islands are made of dirt and rocks and trees. I don't know any people made of such things. Therefore, people are not islands.

Aren't we running out of things to discover? The short answer is 'no'. The long answer is also 'no'. There's still plenty of things we don't know, both large and small.

If the food supply runs out, try trapping or hunting animals. For most people, this won't be easy. If you can't catch any animals, it's time to throw a Donner party.

For the first time since he showed up in my checkout lane, I let my eyes wander the full length of his body. The bulge in his running down the side of his pants leg is quite noticeable; either he has a banana in his pocket, or he's happy to see me. Then I notice a similar bulge running down the side of his other pants leg. Either he has two bananas in his pockets, or he has two erections.

3. When making your dramatic exit, crawl along one of the web strands that extend outward from the center. Avoid the webbing that runs in concentric circles, as it's the stickiest.
4. Once you've escaped, say something snarky to the queen, like "Sorry I couldn't stick around.

Stop it, girl. There's no way he's five-years-old. Or one hundred. He's probably like every other CEO on the planet: Late twenties, handsome in that geeky sort of way, and just as awkward as you. I breathe a sigh of relief, because I know I'm probably right.

My shift isn't over until six," I say glumly.
"Hold on," he says. He pulls a Blackberry from his coat pocket and taps out a text. It buzzes, and he taps out another text before stashing it back in his pocket. "I think you can take the rest of the afternoon off."
"I only have a week left, but my boss would kill me," I say.
"I'm your boss, Anna."
"What do you mean?"
There's that smile again, the one with all those teeth. "I just bought Walmart," he says.

As I brush my long, brown hair, the girl in the mirror with blue eyes too big for her head stares back at me. Wait ... I don't have blue eyes! Then I realize I haven't been looking into the mirror. I've been staring at a poster of Kristen Stewart for five minutes. My own hair is actually fine.

Abby had a little experience with the rap genre already - she used to spit rhymes with this little blond neighbor kid when she would visit her aunt and uncle in Detroit. Marshall something. Great kid. A little tightly wound.