Tara Sivec Quotes

If you were mine, I would never be able to walk away from you. If you were mine, I'd worship every inch of your body with my hands, lips, and tongue. If you were mine, I wouldn't be able to stand in the same room as you without running my hands over your skin and tasting your lips. If you were mine ...

If you ramble enough, people will think what you're saying is true, right?

He's been hung up on a one-night-stand he had five years ago with a girl that smelled like Cocoa Puffs.

The tears pool in my eyes and fall down my face. I love her so much and all I'm doing is hurting her. The one person in my life who never lets me down and all I keep doing is breaking her apart. I let her down every time I leave, I let her down every time she has to handle something alone, I let her down when I come home and I'm not myself because I'm still stuck in a place halfway across the world

I don't wanna be def. Death. Dead. This Burger Twin nappykin just got served as my will, BEOTCH! The fries here suck, by the way. If I die, don't feed my son your shitty fries. Don't give my son to the creepy child molester king you put in your commercials either. What the fuck is wrong with that guy? He's got a normal body and a plastic face that is always smiley. It's not right, man. It's just not right. My ears feel funny.

Was this really my life right now? How did I get to this point? A few months ago I was a single mother with no social life or romantic prospects anywhere in my future, and I was stuck at a dead-end job at a bar. Now, I was opening a business, doing what I loved every single day, and found the love of my life who was the best father in the world to our son.

Oh, and my va**na was getting regular work-outs on an almost-daily basis. Couldn't forget that tidbit since it was probably the most important. I thought if my va**na had to wait any longer for some action, she would have just got up and walked out of my underwear to find another pair of legs to sit between.

- I'm so happy for you, Ellie - I tell her honestly.
- I'm happy for me, too - she tells me with another laugh.

Liz asked me the other day what I thought about twice baked potatoes. How the fuck should I know? Was I supposed to be thinking about twice baked potatoes all this time? Is this where I went wrong? Are grown men supposed to have an opinion about twice baked potatoes?

It's my fucking business when I've had my face buried between your thighs and can still taste you on my tongue.

Then you have the people who believe your flippancy is due to some deep, dark, secret issue with your uterus that you're overcompensating for, and they look at you and your va**na with pity.

I love both of you exactly the way you are. I love that you have no filter, and I adore that Gavin can make grown men cry. There is not one thing I would change about either of you, and if anyone doesn't like it, they can kiss my ass. You guys are my life and my family now. Nothing else matters.

Who are you?" I asked the kid with my eyes when I finally found my voice.
"I'm Gavin Morgan, who the hell are you?

I love you more than a hooker loves free VD testing day at the clinic

Are you really going back there with me?" I ask.
"Hell yes I am. Your wish is finally coming true. I will see your vagina. Plus, I really want to see the look on that woman's face when she gets a peek at your plethora of pubes. Your copious curls, your abundant bush, the wild mane that if it sees a spark will start a forest fire," she states.
"Are you finished?" I ask irritably.
"I think so. But give me five minutes and I might be able to get one more in.

Dear Fisher, I guess this is it, huh? After almost fourteen years together, starting a life of our own on this island, five tours of duty and countless letters I've written you through it all, I finally go out to the mailbox and see something I've always dreamed of: an envelope with your handwriting on it. For one moment, I actually thought you'd changed your mind. That all the awful things you said to me were just your way of coping after everything you'd been through. I was still here, Fisher. I was still here, holding my breath, waiting for you to come back even though you told me you never would. You always said you'd find your way back to me. Out of all the lies you've told me, this one hurts the most. Enclosed you will find the signed divorce papers, as requested. I hope you find what you're looking for. I'm sorry it wasn't me. Lucy

Climbing into bed, I slide my hands behind my head and stare up at the ceiling.
I have no idea who my father is.
I just had anal!
But I have no idea who my father is.
ANAL, MOTHERFUCKER!
Shit, I hate being so conflicted.

I'm sorry, did you just say your boyfriend ditched you to go shoe shopping?" my mom asks her.

Charlotte sighs and crosses her arms in front of her. "He didn't ditch me. I told him he could go because I was tired."

"You don't really mean shoe shopping right? You meant to say shopping for sports equipment or a new surround sound system, right?" Aunt Liz asks.

"He told us his favorite book of all time was Under the Rainbow: The Real Liza Minnelli. I'm pretty sure shoe shopping would be right up his alley," Mom reminds her.

"Has Rocco gotten the memo yet that he's gay?" Aunt Liz questions her.

Tyler starts laughing hysterically and reaches his hand up to fist-bump my aunt.

"Seriously, Mom? Are you judging him? That's really low," Charlotte complains.

"I'm not judging him. Some of the best people I've ever met are gay. I just don't particularly want my daughter dating someone who's gay."

Charlotte stomps her foot and growls at Liz, and I have to tell myself not to get too excited. I love seeing her get fired up. Her cheeks turn pink and her eyes sparkle. Now is NOT the time to get a boner.

"He is NOT gay! He's just … he's in touch with his feminine side."

Tyler snorts and Charlotte shoots an angry look in his direction.

"Honey, he doesn't have a feminine side. He has a vagina," Aunt Liz informs her.

I suddenly had a vision of my sperm swimming around and talking in Bruce Willis's voice like in Look Who's Talking. Come on! Swim faster! This little shit has no idea we escaped from the condom! Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker!

She is my heart, my soul, my everything

I'm scared because I love you so much sometimes it's hard to breathe.

What temperature is your ball sack running at now?" he asks, turning around and narrowing his eyes at me.

"What? I don't know. Why are you asking me this?"

"Dude, to effectively produce sperm, your testicles need to be at least two degrees cooler than your core temperature. You should ice those little nuggets.

This was never supposed to happen. Sleeping with Tyler was supposed to be a one-time thing – a means of scratching an itch and quelling the boredom that has consumed my life lately. The first time we had sex and he sang the theme song from My Little Pony while he went down on me should have sent me running for the hills like my ass was on fire. He's immature, he constantly pisses me off and he's twenty-five years old and can't hold a job to save his life. But dammit, sex with Tyler was the biggest high I've ever had in my life. It's Official: I am clinically insane.

A few seconds of silence lapse, and I knew Carter was waiting for me to mention the huge "I'm pregnant" elephant in the room. Fuck that elephant! he can just sit there in the corner eating peanuts and shitting on the tile while giving me looks of disgust.

Spitters are Quitters

You're the only thing I've ever wished for.

I know I'm done for when it comes to this woman. She's gotten under my skin, and I'm not sure if I'll ever be ready to remove her.

There's nothing more sensual than watching a man struggle to keep himself in check when he's looking at you.

So, this is the story all about how my life got flipped-turned upside down ... no, seriously, it is. Stop singing, you heartless bastards. I'm

Do not enter, closed for repairs, zombies will eat your face if you try to touch this vagina.

I just wanted to hear him speak again. His voice made me want to take my pants off.

Oh, sweetie, you are a jackass. I love you, but you are dumber than a one legged duck in an ass kicking contest when pigs fly.

I hate every moment that I'm away from her, but I will do whatever it takes to find the man she once loved and bring him back to her.

I gained fifty-six pounds when I was pregnant with him. Do you have any idea what it's like to look down and not be able to see your vagina?"
"Uh, no," I muttered.
"My ass had its own zip code.

It wouldn't be weird at all if I just walked up to her and ran my tongue across her shoulder, would it? I could tell her she had a piece of food there or something. Totally normal.

Sometimes you have to learn to love the little mo stars for something other than a tax deductions they provide you" ~Claire
Seductions & Snacks

You don't have to try and pick up all the pieces at once, sometimes you only need to use a few of them at a time. If you try and pick them all up and use them all the same time, it's overwhelming and frustrating when you start to drop them or you just can't make them work.

Dude, you've been fingering that box in your pocket all this time? I thought you had crabs or something. I was going to let you borrow my cream.

What the fuck is that?" I ask Uncle Drew as he walks up to us. "That, my little asshole, is a screaming goat. Molly showed me this awesome video on YouTube and I had to get one," Uncle Drew says with a huge smile. "GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Uncle Drew turns around and points proudly to a little black and white goat tied to one of Aunt Liz and Uncle Jim's trees. "Isn't she cute? Her name is Taylor Swift." "GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" the goat screams as she looks right at us. "I don't even understand what is happening right now," I reply with a shake of my head. "I've been trying to teach her - " "GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" "How to sing a - " "GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" "Song, but she never comes in at the right - " "GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

You're probably also wondering how in the hell I can possibly be twenty-five years old when just yesterday I was four. I know, it's a tough pill to swallow. I'm not a foul-mouthed, cute little kid anymore. I'm now a foul-mouthed, cute adult.

Then grow a pair and get over it. Jesus mother of f*ck Christ in a piss sh*thole, dick for brains, the answer is bathtub.

Granted, she was obviously one window lick away from riding the short bus, but that knowledge did nothing to ease my mind.

I was going to have to tell people I got fired from selling dildos. I can't even sell fake cocks to a room full or horny women. How do you come back from that shit?

Life's too short to do something that doesn't make you happy, and to spend your time with someone who isn't your entire world.

Oh, please. I heard barnyard animal noises coming from your room the other night and someone shouting 'Pull my reins, bitch!' I realize you're twenty-one-years old and theoretically an adult, but if I have to hear that shit one more time when I'm trying to sleep, I will beat you like a red-headed step child," she warns.

And let's face it people, no one is ever honest with you about child birth. Not even your mother. "It's a pain you forget all about once you have that sweet little baby in your arms." Bullshit. I CALL BULLSHIT. Any friend, cousin, or nosey-ass stranger in the grocery store that tells you it's not that bad is a lying sack of shit. Your vagina is roughly the size of the girth of a penis. It has to stretch and open andturn into a giant bat cave so the life-sucking human you've been growing for nine months can angrily claw its way out. Who in their right mind would do that willingly? You're just walking along one day and think to yourself, "You know, I think it's time I turn my vagina into an Arby's Beef and Cheddar (minus the cheddar) and saddle myself down for a minimum of eighteen years to someone who will suck the soul and the will to live right out of my body so I'm a shell of the person I used to be and can't get laid even if I pay for it.

It's going down, and it's going down right the fuck now. I don't care if there is a room full of witnesses

First of all, you're going to talk to her and get the whole story. I know you're in shock but sitting around here all day fingering your va**na isn't going to make anything better. So man-up. Go talk to her. You spent all these years trying to find her and here she is, right in front of you. So she's got a little baggage. Who doesn't?"

"A little baggage? Drew, she has a son. That's more than a little baggage," I complained.

"Wake up and look in the mirror baby-daddy. He's your son too. And you spent the last few years trying to f**k her out of your system with some chick you could barely stand. That's not just baggage, that's luggage, bags, suitcases, carry-ons, back-packs and Clinique make-up bags.

It's Life. It's the bumps and the bruises, the pain and the fear; it's messy and it's real and it's not some perfect little story that can be tied up in a bow.

I remember that night fondly. And by fondly, I mean with bitter resentment toward all things alcoholic and with a penis.

Another good thing about Legos(LIFE). If it falls apart, it doesn't mean it's destroyed. It just means you have to pick up the pieces and start again.

I should just open the car door and throw her out of the moving vehicle for what she did to me tonight, but I didn't want to ruin someone else's car if they ran her over.

Holy shit, did they just kill off that fish's wife?" I blurted in shock.
"Yep," Gavin replied. "That big, mean fish ated her."
He said it so calmly – like it was no big deal that a sweet, loving cartoon fish just got murdered. What the fuck was wrong with this movie? This couldn't be appropriate for kids. I didn't think it was appropriate for me.

I would do anything for him, even if it meant sacrificing something of myself.

Instead I'm worried about my son being led astray by a harlot. A harlot named Brooklyn. Her parents probably named her that because skank was too obvious even though they know what her future career would be.

I don't think this is a children's princess party!" I shout over the noise of the rambunctious men as a shower of dollar bills land at my feet. One of the men yells "TAKE IT OFF!"

"Gee, you think?!" Ariel yells back. "Some guy just unzipped his pants and pulled his dick out!"

Isabelle whimpers, shoving her face harder into Ariel's arm.

"What did you do?!"

"What do you think I did? I looked at it. It was a pretty good dick. Nice length, excellent girth. I give it an 8.5 on the dick scale," she says with a shrug. "He lost a point and a half for calling his dick Sanford and informing me that Sanford spits when he's excited. Like I haven't heard that one before. Lame.

Dude, he put ass cream on
his face. You do know I'm going to
have to start calling your son Ass
Face now, right?"
Gavin: "Shut up, dicky."
Drew: "You shut up. You're the one
with the ass face.

It was all fun and games until someone else's dick was in your girlfriend's TMJ mouth

You make everything perfect, Lucy. You're my light and my life and all I need is your love to guide me home, no matter where I go.

I've waited long enough. Shelby is the main reason I'm still here, alive and kicking, and it's time she knows that. It's time for me to take back what was always meant to be mine.

Not all babies are cute when they're born no matter how many new parents try to convince you otherwise. This is yet another lie the half-baked "theys" lead you to believe. Some babies are born looking like old men with wrinkled faces, age spots, and a receding hairline. When I was born, my father George took my hospital picture over to his friend Tim's house while my mom was still recuperating in the hospital. Tim took one look at my picture and said, "Oh sweet Jesus, George. You better hope she's smart." It was no different with my son, Gavin. He was funny looking. I was his mother, so I could say that. He had a huge head, no hair, and his ears stuck out so far I often wondered if they worked like the Whisper 2000, and he was able to pick up conversations from a block away.

No one likes an ugly crier. It's uncomfortable for all parties involved.

I'm sorry, but why does Claire know how to take a punch? I'm not sure I like where this is going," Carter said nervously.
"Well, last year Jim made us watch Fight Club for like, the ten- thousandth time. And while I'm all for a little shirtless Brad Pitt action, Claire and I decided to take a shot every time Edward Norton talked in third person. By about twenty minutes in, we were trashed. I don't know whose idea it was, but Claire and I started our own fight club in the living room," Liz explained.
"It was your idea, Liz. You stood up in front of me, lifted your shirt and said "Punch me in the stomach as hard as you can, fucker.

You wouldn't know what the fuck to do in a dangerous situation if your life depended on it. And it would, little one.

People in your life will let you down sometimes. It's a fact of life. What matters is how you handle it.

Jim, would you rather have your porn name be Hugh G. Rection or Mike Unstinks?

Oh fuck, he was right there. I was wet as hell and he could probably smell me now. I should have eaten strawberries or melon or a dozen roses or an entire mint plant. Did that work for women? I read an article that it worked for men. Their spunk tasted like what they ate. Did my vagina taste like spaghetti right now? God dammit! I shouldn't have eaten dinner!

He looks at you like you're the key to his soul and like he wants to devour you.

I can't do this without her, Liz, I can't. Every part of my life is wrapped up in her. She's my wife,

Mortification, party of one, your table is now ready.

I want to reach in my pants, pull out my virginity, wrap it up and put a bow on it. Or maybe stick it in a gift bag from Target and give it to him like a present with a nice card that says, Thank you for being you! Just a little virginity to show you may gratitude!

My ears perked up like a dog's again when she spoke and pointed in the general direction of the chick that smelled of Slim Jims.
I hope I don't start barking.
"Oh, please, like she doesn't know about the smell of meat products wafting from her lady parts. I think she rubs bologna down there to attract men. Lunch meat is her sex pheromone."
The brunette shook her head in irritation. "If I do a shot, will you please stop talking about Jade's disgusting vagina and never, ever use the word meat product in a sentence?"
"Woof!"
Three sets of eyes all turned to look at me.
"Did I just bark out loud?"
Three heads bobbed up and down in unison.

Love and lists. Just remember, love and lists. Nothing else matters.

I turned around to see Jim standing in the aisle with a smirk and a box of tampons in his hand.
Very funny asshole. Looks like you're on the rag this week. Make sure to get yourself some Midol and a copy of Terms of Endearment so you can have yourself a good cry.

Now that I've found her again, I have no intention of letting her go.

Getting a group of rowdy, blue-collar workers together in one room and putting in a tape that shows a guy in a leisure suit putting his hand on his secretary's ass and you've got complete and total anarchy, ladies and gentleman.

All my shrinks have told me I need to find a hobby. Something to focus on other than the torture and the pain, something to keep me grounded to the here and now and not stuck in the past, reliving every moment of hell. It's probably not healthy that I've decided finding Shelby and convincing her to love me again is the perfect hobby for me, but that's too damn bad.
I'm broken and scarred and half the man I used to be, but if she'll let me explain, I hope to God she can put me back together again.

There has never, nor will there ever be, any other woman in this world more special to me than you."q

Who keeps putting alcohol in my alcohol?

Oh shit, I wouldn't use that towel if I were you," Gavin mumbles.
I ignore him scrubbing every inch of my face, hoping that maybe I can rub away the memory of the words my mother spoke to me.
"Seriously dude, give me that thing," Gavin says, Interrupting my thoughts. I pull the towel away and glare at his reflection in the mirror. He's standing behind me with a look of disgust on his face and his hand out. "What the fuck is wrong with you? I just found out that my mom was a slut and has no idea who my dad is and all you're worried about is your precious towel?" I ramble, my voice getting that hysterical squeak to it. "What's wrong? Is this one of Charlotte's 'good' towels, reserved for guests or some shit? Fuck, are you pussy whipped."
Gavin shakes his head at me and tries reaching over my shoulder to take the towel. I snatch it away and turn to face him. "What is your fucking deal? It's a Goddamn towel!" I yell. "Yeah, it's a jizz towel, dude."
I look at him in confusion, glancing down at the towel and back up at him when what he said finally sinks in. He's biting his lip and I can't tell if he's trying not to laugh or if he's trying to think of a way to run out of here as fast as he can. "Hey, what are you guys doing in the bathroom?" Charlotte asks, suddenly appearing in the doorway. "Oh, my God! Did you just use that towel, Tyler?" I quickly throw the towel away from me like it's on fire and it lands in the toilet. "Dammit, don't throw it in the toilet

I've heard some strange noises every once in a while late at night and always wondered if the house is haunted. I bet it is. I bet that freaky little fucker wants to watch us have sex. Fine with me, buddy, enjoy the show. Just don't touch my ass at all during the event or I will call the Winchester brothers from Supernatural. Dean and Sam will fuck you up! I had a strange hand touch my ass one time in college during a threesome, and that's just something you don't get over. Random ass touching scares me more than spiders.

This is where my story begins. Or ends. I can never really decide.

You can't use Eve as an excuse. Not this time. She's not here. It's just you, me, and a handful of people who just want to drink and listen to some good music. Stop being afraid for once in your fucking life. Stop listening to all of the voices in your head telling you why this is a bad idea and just listen to your heart. Bring out that firecracker I saw this morning that stood her ground, told me where to go, and smacked me across the face.

I love my best friends, but sometimes, I want to punch them in the face. Lovingly, of course.

They say that when you have your own child, the first time you look into his or her eyes you will fall instantly in love and the rest of the world disappears. They say you'll believe your child can do no wrong, and you will love them unconditionally right from the very first moment. Well, whoever "they" are should seriously limit the amount of crack they smoke and stop talking out of their ass while their Arby's vaginas are flopping around in their grandma panties.

I don't even get the term, "the birds and the bees".
How does that properly teach a kid about sex? You never see a pigeon railing a
dove or a honey bee sticking it to a bumble bee.

I'm going to put corn and hot sauce on your wiener, and then I'll hit you in the face with it. Hit you in the face with your corny wiener.

I'm sorry, what do you want to order?"
"A virgin. I want to order a virgin.

It all just depends on the person you're with. If you can look at that person and know without a doubt that you want to spend the rest of your life kissing them goodnight and waking up next to them, marriage is for you.

Happy Valentine's Day, baby. No matter what, Gavin will always be your little boy. The first woman he ever asked to marry him. Even when he's in fifth grade and those little bitches pull out the big guns and start getting boob jobs and vaginal rejuvenation surgeries.

Gavin, come on. Mommy doesn't feel good," I complained.
He stopped bouncing and leaned forward to sprawl his body out on top of me, putting his face right up to mine.
"Do you want me ta' beat up your friends, Mommy?" he whispered conspiratorially.
I removed my hands from my head and opened my eyes to look at him.
"What are you talking about, Gav?"
He brought his hands up and put them on my chest, resting his chin on top.
"Your friends, Mommy. The ones who maded you sick," he said in a voice that clearly screamed, "Duh.

I am plenty romantic. Just this morning while he slept, I had left Carter a box of his favorite candy next to his pillow - Globs: piles of white chocolate covered, crushed potato chips and pretzels drizzled with caramel. I figured it would soften him up to the note I placed next to the box telling him if he left the toilet seat up one more time and my ass got an involuntary bath at six in the morning, I would put super glue on the head of his penis while he slept. I had even signed the note with a couple of Xs and Os. Who says romance is dead?

I love the way you look at me. I love the way you love me. No matter what, I will always find my way back to you,

Mom, do you have pot hanging from the ceiling?

Son of a bitch, Kenny G! You put everyone to sleep but my son. The ONE thing you had going for you and now it's gone to shit.

I don't deserve her forgiveness. I never deserved her to begin with, so now she'll be free to find security and happiness without having to worry about the broken man she married who can never be fixed.

The mind is a great and powerful thing, bisected with hallways of darkness and corners of light. Memories can alternately fill your life with joy and happiness and cloud every moment with nightmares and fear, making you second-guess all of the good things and wonder if they were ever real.

It's fucking Meerkat Manor in my pants.

Why the hell is he standing there looking so God damned hot that I want to mount his face.

Every day I told him if he ruined my va**na I would video tape his birth and show all his future girlfriends what happened to your who-ha when you had sex, ensuring that he will never, ever get laid. Fuck playing Mozart and reading Shakespeare. I went with the scared straight method.

He was so pretty I wanted to frame him and put him on my nightstand in a totally non-creepy, non-Hannibal Lector skin-suit-wearing kind of way.