Jill Conner Browne Quotes

Try to avoid getting involved with somebody who's gonna need killing before it's over. It may seem to you that that narrows the field somewhat, but be diligent.

Cheap jewelry, however, is worse than no jewelry at all, and there are very few things in life than are worse than no jewelry at all.

Daddy always pointed out, it should come as no surprises to anyone that merchants want to move their wares-it's sorta what they do, after all. But that's just BUSINESS and that has nothing to do with CHRISTMAS.

If God wasn't mightily amused by our humanness, I figure he'd have wiped us out a long time ago.

Hate people on an individual basis only - you must actually get to know someone at least slightly before you can properly hate him or her.

Life. It's your birthday present. Open it up and play with it. Act like you like it. (The One who gave it to you is watching, after all. Don't want to hurt his feelings.) And if you don't like your life, CHANGE IT. It is all yours.

It's vitally important that you buy your own crown and declare yourself Queen, and then spend the rest of your life living into that.

In certain regions of Italy, women of ill-repute or evil looks are forbidden to enter cheese factories.

There is a difference between "denial" and "delusion." The difference is that denial is a fun game and delusion is pitiable and requires meds that you will be too delusional to enjoy.

Always wear pretty underwear, on account of you just never know.

FINANCIAL TIP
For guys
buying the stupid flowers when you're supposed to will be way cheaper than what you'll have to buy and do to make up for it if you forget.

A stranger came to their door one day. He was singularly unattractive - very little hair covering his hideous, sore-wracked skin, just generally ratty and nasty looking. But as is often said of the unbeautiful of the world, he had a great personality. He came to be known a "Funkdog", because he was, in fact, a dog, and he was funky. And so they started this thing of petting Funkdog with a small stick. That image always just made me want to bawl, and now I know why. I think Funkdog being petted with a stick is a perfect metaphor for what can happen to any of us in this life if we don't pay attention. In any area of our lives, things can go from great to not so hot, to downright unspeakable, and do it so gradually that we keep downshifting our expectations to correspond with our current situation. We settle for less and less and tell ourselves,"It's not so bad", until one day we wake up and we are in effect, hairless and scabby, and just hoping to get petted with a stick for a little while.

I believe that the ability to laugh at oneself is fundamental to the resiliency of the human spirit.

In trying times, such as the ones we currently find ourselves mired in the middle of, one wants a distraction from one's troubles, and I find it most helpful to plan and engage in a pleasant outing or two with close and like-minded friends. Or you could go gator huntin'.

I love men. They Taste like Chicken

And he would say, "Y'all come when you can," which was of no substantial pith or import, but then he would add, "Be particular." Except he pronounced it "p'ticklar." Be particular. That is, without a doubt, the Best Advice Ever Given in the History of the Entire World.

I am surprised that Chicago - the Big-Shouldered City - is so trifling that they won't let you eat in a restaurant if it's on fire. Even if you already paid.

If some area of your life sucks - do something else. Life is too short - and too long - to spend it being miserable. Life may indeed be short but it is for a fact wide. It is high time we started settling for more.

They know they're supposed to do something, but they're not sure what. And you know what they do when they're not sure
of course you do: They either do the wrong thing or they do nothing, and it's a toss up as to which is worse.

Be particular. That is, without a doubt, the Best Advice Ever Given in the History of the Entire World. Consider, if you will, the profound effect that following that advice would have on, say, your diet, your love life, your financial situation, your decision on whether to have that next drink. I mean, what do those two words not cover?

Pre-forty, you can wash your face with Tide and use Vaseline for moisturizer, toss on a little mascara and lip gloss, and you're a friggin' cover girl. Those of us on the slippery slope that is the Other Side of Forty can testify
those days are so over. You pore over labels promising everything short of actual rebirth
you will buy most of them for an average of $450 per quarter once
and none of them will work. You will still be getting older and poorer with every passing purchase.

What if, when you woke up in the morning, ALL you had LEFT was what you had thanked God for the night before?

But, if you've decided to go out on a limb and kill one, for goodness' sake, be prepared. We all read, with dismay, the sad story of a good woman wronged in south Mississippi who took that option and made a complete mess of the entire thing. See, first she shot him. Well, she saw right off the bat that that was a mistake because then she had this enormous dead body to deal with. He was every bit as much trouble to her dead as he ever had been alive, and was getting more so all the time. So then, she made another snap decision to cut him up in pieces and dispose of him a hunk at a time. More poor planning. First, she didn't have the proper carving utensils on hand and hacking him up proved to be just a major chore, plus it made just this colossal mess on her off-white shag living room carpet. It's getting to be like the Cat in the Hat now, only Thing Two ain't showing up to help with the clean-up. She finally gets him into portable-size portions, and wouldn't you know it? Cheap trash bags. Can anything else possible go wrong for this poor woman? So, the lesson here is obvious--for want of a small chain saw, a roll of Visqueen and some genuine Hefty bags, she is in Parchman Penitentiary today instead of New Orleans, where she'd planned to go with her new boyfriend. Preparation is everything.

My sister, Judy, has always said that she would like to lie in state, propped up in her coffin with her eyes blared wide open, face fixed in a big grin, and have a taped greeting for all her mourners. Something real upbeat and, well, live-sounding, like: 'He-e-e-ey!Cuteshoestellyomamahi!

If there exists in this universe anything more infuriating and crazy-making than a man, I don't know what it is, thank you, and I don't want to know.