Jody Gehrman Quotes

These guys may not talk too much about relationships, but they sure do blush at telling moments, don't they? Maybe that's the key to understanding the opposite sex; I could invent a science, call it blushology.

Guys do have a language, and it does express emotion with startling clarity and nuance. The idea that they don't express their feelings is
as absurd as traveling to a foreign country and claiming the natives can't speak simply because you don't understand what they're saying.

La-di-dah, just out for a little spin, don't mind me.

I sometimes suspect they don't take Dr. Aphrodite very seriously. Which is sad, really. Because what's more serious than love?

July 4th, (ie, time to celebrate our freedoms as Americans by eating hormone-laden farm animals and blowing shit up)
-Geena (Triple Shot Betty)

I guess sometimes it takes a while for the heart to get the memo from the brain.

I actually plan to mess up my life and start over every seven years. That way, I'll never get in a rut. I read somewhere that most of your cells only live about seven years anyway, so in theory you literally are a new person; I figure that's the best time to start over.

Are you mad?" I ask.
"I was." He glances at the ceiling then back at me. "Or confused, anyway. The whole thing threw me through for a loop. I thought I'd finally met a guy at Underwood I could relate to, and it turns out he wasn't a guy at all."
I swallow. "I can see how that would be weird."
"In a way though, I was relieved."
"Relieved?" I echo. "Why?"
He looks around embarrased. "Let's just say you had me questioning my sexual orientation.

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I hope the people I hurt can see past the prank to the very real respect and affection I feel for them. If not, I may have to take my own advice, buy myself some cute shoes and march on. I hope that's not how it ends, though. I hope this boy-meets-girl-pretending-to-be-boy story has a happy ending, one with less bitter and more sweet.

This party is turning out to be the turd-encrusted cherry on the top of my shit-shake of a day.

Come on Geena. Dude's slippery as hell. He could talk his way out of a blow job in the Oval Office.

He's an intricate, mesmerizing puzzle; I only succeeded at putting the pieces together because for once in my life I observed. I stopped talking long enough to listen - really listen - not just to what's said, but also to everything that goes unspoken.

I tried all kinds of approaches: sexy, friendly, intimidating - nothing worked. I'm starting to think there's an invisible force field that prevents honest communication between X and Y chromosomes.

Here I've been telling him things in my head for weeks, writing long, frenzied missives to him I know I'll never send, and now that I have him less than two feet away, I'm struck dumb.
Fantastic.

Sure, okay, I'll pick up some cat litter. Anything else?"
"Watch your back, G." Then she hung up.
Hero paused in her sobbing to look at me quizzically. "Why does your mom want cat litter? You guys don't even have a cat."
"She uses it for ... " I searched my brain madly, but all I could come up with was "teaching."
"She uses cat litter to teach English?"
I nodded. "She's kind of unconventional in her methods."
Hero frowned. "But how does she use it?"
The girl was relentless when she fixated on something. "Um, when their papers are really bad, she gives them a little bag of cat litter. It's her way of telling them their writing is crap." I laughed. "She's kooky.

I think that everyone should have at least a part of them that's self-invented; in fact, the world would be much more interesting if we all created our own identities afresh whenever we felt like it. Otherwise you're just walking around regurgitating what's expected, which is like, why bother?

The right song can change everything.

Art boy is obviously intimidated. You're like the sun and he's squinting up at you, barely able to see because of your blinking radiance

She has ESB," I say.
Chloe rolls her eyes. "ESP you mean?"
"No, ESB. Extrasensory Bitchyness.

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POKSI (Physically Okay but Socially Inept)

All I have to do is shoot! In my excitement, I throw the ball down with more force than ever, feeling bad-ass. It ricochets off the floor at an angle and slams right into my crotch.
All around me, the room goes, "Ohhhh!"
I look up. Every face is staring at me, contorted into winces. Right. Ball in crotch equals excruciating pain. I'm such an idiot! Too late, I double over in pain.
"Ouch!" I yell. I sneak a glance around. Nobody looks convinced, so I add, "My balls!

I have to say it's the most sizzling, delicious, sublime kiss ever. In the history of human beings. Possibly back to and including dinosaurs.

Maybe illusion and artifice - lies, even - are a necessary part of romance.

The point is, feelings can change - and often do - abruptly. It's one of the riskiest aspects of falling for someone, especially during these tumultuous years when we're young and restless.

Supposedly, guys think about sex every eight seconds. If that's true, how can they talk to their grandmothers?