Girls Next Door Quotes

Pink is not a color it is an "ATTITUDE". ~ Bridget Of Sweden

If I wear bright colors or something, I'll tie all my hair back. I don't want to look too like 'Girls Next Door.' ~ Sophie Monk

I have to admit, I have a little sad addiction. I love watching on the E Channel that stupid show, The Girls Next Door. It's a very sad thing to say and I don't know how to explain it but I am addicted to Hugh Hefner's girlfriends and The Girls Next Door. ~ Julie Halston

I want to get into producing. I really learned a lot from 'Girls Next Door.' Kevin Burns is a great producer. He's really talented, and he taught me a lot. I'm just looking forward to spreading the wings a little bit. Five seasons on 'Girls Next Door' was great, but it gets a little repetitive. ~ Holly Madison

What's agitating about solitude is the inner voice telling you that you should be mated to somebody, that solitude is a mistake. The inner voice doesn't care about who you find. It just keeps pestering you, tormenting you
if you happen to be me
with homecoming queens first, then girls next door, and finally anybody who might be pleased to see you now and then at the dinner table and in bed on occasion. You look up from reading the newspaper and realize that no one loves you, and no one burns for you. ~ Charles Baxter

I'm working on producing my own shows. "Girls Next Door" was a great place to start but it was somebody else's show. I'm just ready to move on. ~ Holly Madison

If I was going to pretend to be the supermom next door, it would've been counterfeit and a lie. I figured I had to write something out of a new place. ~ Sandra Tsing Loh

Editing is like strawberries put on the table as a centerpiece, before the full course meal, but, you don't want them to become spoiled, or your guests will go to the neighbor's house next door. ~ Angel M.B. Chadwick

The role of my agent has just been to get me in the room. If I can get in the room - say the character is just a charming man who lives next door - then I'll walk in there and be as charming as I can and they will think to themselves, 'I don't see why we can't cast him.' ~ Idris Elba

All I've ever wanted to do is take stills of people, or take documentaries about people, and try to express to an audience how somebody lives next door. You know what I mean? Just how similar we all are as individuals. ~ Roger Deakins

The realisation that, depending on where we changed from one note to the next in a melodic line, the music could subtly influence the entire meaning of a scene in so many ways was like a door opening to this amazing new world for me. ~ Steven Price

Mark swings his own door open and meets us by the tailgate. "Why don't we ask Emma who she's coming with? I mean, it's her choice, right?"
The look Galen gives me is clear: Take care of this, or I will. Or maybe it's more like, It would be my pleasure to take care of this. Either way, I don't want Mark taken care of.
Standing between them, the testosterone-to-air ratio is almost suffocating. If I pick Galen, the chances of Mark ever calling me again are as good as Galen eating a whole cheesecake by himself. If I choose Mark, the changes of Galen not wielding his built-in brass knuckles are as good as Rayna giving someone a compliment.
My desire to salvage this date with Mark is almost as strong as my desire to salvage his face from certain disfigurement. But salvaging the date as opposed to his face would be selfish in the long run. I sigh in defeat. "I'm sorry, Mark."
Mark lets out a gust of air. "Ouch." Scratching the back of his neck, he chuckles. "I guess I should be more superstitious, huh?"
He's right. I screwed this up. I should have salvaged the date, his pride. And I should have broken Galen's Royal nose with my own Syrena fist. I turn to His Highness. "Galen, could you give me a minute please? You'll have the next hour to talk to me since you're taking me straight home."
Without a word, Galen nods and walks away.
I can't quite meet Mark's eyes when I say, "I'm so sorry. I don't know what his deal is. He never acts like this." Excep ~ Anna Banks

And if that weren't bad enough, the next sound he heard was a loud click.
The damned woman had locked him out. She'd taken all the food and locked him out.
"You'll pay for this!" he yelled at the door.
"Do be quiet," came the muffled reply. "I'm eating. ~ Julia Quinn

When I referred to mass hypnosis and education, this brainwashing is the foundation. The impressionable and pliable subconscious is oftentimes a receptacle of ideas, reactions, memories, feelings and perceptions. Call it cultural conditioning and following orders or the people next door, or those people on the reality show. People vote for reality show celebrities. The emperor is wearing no clothes. Millions are triggered, buttons are pushed, and people react. Read the news, or be the news. ~ Stephen Poplin

We Brits print banknotes out in Debden in Essex, and have contracted it out to the private sector. Here in the U.S. it is a government operation right in the heart of Washington next door to the Holocaust Museum. ~ Evan Davis

Jessica

I first met the man I married at a hair salon. I was going out the door; Jep was going in--for a haircut. Seriously. Nowadays, most of the Robertson men don't get haircuts, but Jep did back then. When our paths crossed that day, we said nothing more than "hi" to each other, just one word.
Jep and I both grew up in West Monroe, Louisiana, and he is two years older than I am. We went to different high schools, but because we lived in a close community, we had heard about each other. He knew who I was, and I knew who he was--and I thought he had a cool name. I had heard good things about him, including, "He's a dream." When our paths crossed at the hair salon and we simply said hello, I had no way of knowing the hairdresser would tell Jep all about me as she cut his hair that day. Both of us had gone to her for years, so she knew us pretty well, and she said really nice things about me to Jep. In fact, she takes credit for getting us together! After we were married I found out that when he left the hair salon that day, he went home and told his best friend, "I just met the girl I'm going to marry."
"What's her name?" his friend asked.
"Jessica," Jep responded. He only knew this because the hairdresser had told him.
"Jessica who?" his friend asked. "What's her last name?"
"I don't know," Jep admitted.
I love the fact that Jep knew he would marry me after only seeing me once. Maybe he did not know my last name, but the next time he ~ Jessica Robertson

A strong man next to you in bed is a comfort, but real security is a German Shepherd bitch on guard at the door. ~ Susan Conant

For many people, the mortgages they took out before 2008 are so high that they would be better off walking away from their houses. That is called "jingle mail," returning the keys to the bank and saying, "You can have the house. I can buy the house next door that's just like this for 20% less, so I'm going to save money and switch." That's what someone like Donald Trump or a real estate investor would do. But the banks are trying to convince the mortgage debtors, the homeowners, not to act in their own self-interest. ~ Michael Hudson

Bam! The whole truck rocked from Dad slamming his door. A few fast steps with his long legs put him next to Mom. The boys' demeanor flipped from chill to tense. Their sneers vanished, and the strutting stopped. ~ Brenda Vicars

Because of the fact I look a lot younger than I really am, I think, I end up getting these girl-next-door roles. I mean, I'm not a Gemma Arterton type as far as I can tell. ~ Kimberley Nixon

There's a book called "The Sociopath Next Door." I thought most sociopaths were violent. In fact, they aren't. But almost all sociopaths want to win, no matter what. ~ Denzel Washington

I pull back, gasping for breath. Reeling. His breath is ragged, and I place my hands on his cheeks to steady him. "Is this okay?" I whisper. "Are you okay?"
His reply is anguished. Honest. "I love you. ~ Stephanie Perkins

My latest theory is that it's - well, I describe it as, like, being in an apartment with kind of thin walls. And in the apartment next door, they've got a radio tuned constantly on - tuned to a really cool radio station. It's on all the time. And you can just hear it coming through the wall all the time. ~ Nick Lowe

number of changes she had gone through that day. 'A likely story indeed!' said the Pigeon in a tone of the deepest contempt. 'I've seen a good many little girls in my time, but never one with such a neck as that! No, no! You're a serpent; and there's no use denying it. I suppose you'll be telling me next that you never tasted an egg!' 'I have tasted eggs, certainly, ~ Lewis Carroll

I pushed myself up onto my hands and knees, ignoring the bite of the frosty air on my bare skin. I launched myself in the direction of the door, fumbling around until I found it. I tried shaking the handle, jiggling it, still thinking, hoping, praying that this was some big birthday surprise, and that by the time I got back inside, there would be a plate of pancakes at the table and Dad would bring in the presents, and we could - we could - we could pretend like the night before had never happened, even with the evidence in the next room over.
The door was locked.
"I'm sorry!" I was screaming. Pounding my fists against it. "Mommy, I'm sorry! Please!"
Dad appeared a moment later, his stocky shape outlined by the light from inside of the house. I saw Mom's bright-red face over his shoulder; he turned to wave her off and then reached over to flip on the overhead lights.
"Dad!" I said, throwing my arms around his waist. He let me keep them there, but all I got in return was a light pat on the back.
"You're safe," he told me, in his usual soft, rumbling voice.
"Dad - there's something wrong with her," I was babbling. The tears were burning my cheeks. "I didn't mean to be bad! You have to fix her, okay? She's…she's…"
"I know, I believe you."
At that, he carefully peeled my arms off his uniform and guided me down, so we were sitting on the step, facing Mom's maroon sedan. He was fumbling in his pockets for something, listening to me as I told ~ Alexandra Bracken

On our way down, we passed a two-story villa, hidden in a thicket of Chinese parasol trees, magnolia, and pines. It looked almost like a random pile of stones against the background of the rocks. It struck me as an unusually lovely place, and I snapped my last shot. Suddenly a man materialized out of nowhere and asked me in a low but commanding voice to hand over my camera. He wore civilian clothes, but I noticed he had a pistol. He opened the camera and exposed my entire roll of film. Then he disappeared, as if into the earth. Some tourists standing next to me whispered that this was one of Mao's summer villas. I felt another pang of revulsion toward Mao, not so much for his privilege, but for the hypocrisy of allowing himself luxury while telling his people that even comfort was bad for them. After we were safely out of earshot of the invisible guard, and I was bemoaning the loss of my thirty-six pictures, Jin-ming gave me a grin: "See where goggling at holy places gets you!"

We left Lushan by bus. Like every bus in China, it was packed, and we had to crane our necks desperately trying to breathe. Virtually no new buses had been built since the beginning of the Cultural Revolution, during which time the urban population had increased by several tens of millions. After a few minutes, we suddenly stopped. The front door was forced open, and an authoritative-looking man in plainclothes squeezed in.

"Get down! Get down!" he barked.

"Some Amer ~ Jung Chang

Perched up on salvaged bricks, the half-pipes made perfect planters with an industrial edge that oddly complemented Sugar's pretty favorites: pansies, lantana, verbena and heliotrope.
She laid two of them by the long wall of the taller building next door and planted a clematis vine at one end and a moonflower vine at the other: the clematis because the variety she picked had the prettiest purple bloom and the moonflower because it opened in the early evening and emanated a heavenly scent just when a person most felt like smelling one. ~ Sarah-Kate Lynch

I watched water dripping off the ferns and the needles of the Western Red Cedar next door. I watched it running in runnels down the bark of the Cherry tree, and I looked at the small droplets of misty water that were accumulating on the broad leaves of the Bigleaf Maple.I touched one of the accumulated droplets, and instantly it was gone. ~ Ned Hayes

Wednesday. March 16 Isn't it strange that it hasn't occurred to me to put my relationship with Clarimonda on a more serious basis than these endless games. Last night, I thought about this...I can, of course, put on my hat and coat, walk down two flights of stairs, take five steps across the street and mount two flights to her door which is marked with a small sign that says "Clarimonda." Clarimonda what? I don't know. Something. Then I can knock and...

Up to this point I imagine everything very clearly, but I cannot see what should happen next. I know that the door opens. But then I stand before it, looking into a dark void. Clarimonda doesn't come. Nothing comes. Nothing is there, only the black, impenetrable dark.

"The Spider ~ Hanns Heinz Ewers

I fell in love with the boy next door, and my own flesh became a thing I'd never really worn before. Sometimes, pressing my palms together, I thought I felt a magnetic field between them- something invisible but shaped, like sound, or heat, an egg of light, and it was thought I could hold the life force itself in my hands. ~ Laura Kasischke

I Remember Me
There are not enough faces. Your own gapes back
at you on someone else, but paler, then the moment
when you see the next one and forget yourself.
It must be dreams that makes us different, must be
private cells inside a common skull.
One has the other's look and has another memory.
Despair stares out from tube-trains at itself
running on the platform for the closing door.
Everyone you meet is telling wordless barefaced truths.
Sometimes the crowd yields one you put a name to,
snapping fiction into fact. Mostly your lover passes in the rain and does not know you when you speak. ~ Carol Ann Duffy

Every major city has a section like this one. If a piebald dwarf with advanced leprosy wants to have sex with a kangaroo and a teenage choir, he'll find his way here and get a room. When he's done he might take the whole gang next door for a cup of Cuban coffee and a medianoche sandwich. Nobody would care, as long as he tipped. ~ Jeff Lindsay

I did grow up next door to Steve McQueen, who was a very famous movie star at the time, but as a kid it didn't impress me. We always had great fun with him. He would take us out on Sundays on his motorcycles, riding around in the desert; he was like a second father. ~ Herb Ritts

The pebbled glass door panel is lettered in flaked black paint: "Philip Marlowe ... Investigations." It is a reasonably shabby door at the end of a reasonably shabby corridor in the sort of building that was new about the year the all-tile bathroom became the basis of civilization. The door is locked, but next to it is another door with same legend which is not locked. Come on in
there's nobody here but me an a big bluebottle fly. But not if you're from Manhattan, Kansas. ~ Raymond Chandler

Paco!" she announces loudly. "Yeah, I'm talkin' to you," Elena says, pointing to Paco talking to a bunch of girls. "Next time you want to take a dump, do it in someone else's house. ~ Simone Elkeles

Who do I write for? I thought about this again and again over the next few days until the answer crystalized in my consciousness. I write for all readers. But my primary interest is in representing the complex but universal experience of Somalis. I do this because the media representation of the global Somali community is one that is carved out of derivative clichés crammed with pirates, warlords, terrorists, passive women and girls whose entire existence seems to be nothing more than a footnote on the primitive dangers of female genital mutilation. I write because I want to give a long-overdue voice to a community that has experienced a tremendous array of challenges but who constantly face these challenges with the most wicked sense of humour, humility and dignity. My father always used to tell me that in our culture, the done thing when you're facing hardship and your belly is empty is to moisturize your face, comb your hair, press your clothes and step out into the sun with your sense of humanity intact. It's a lesson I've carried with me to this day. ~ Diriye Osman

It's be when you first learn to walk that I get daily demonstrations of the asymmetry in our relationship. You'll be incessantly running off somewhere, and each time you walk into a door frame or scrape your knee, the pain feels like it's my own. It'll be like growing an errant limb, an extension of myself whose sensory nerves report pain just fine, but whose motor nerves don't convey my commands at all. It's so unfair: I'm going to give birth to an animated voodoo doll of myself. I didn't see this in the contract when I signed up. Was this part of the deal?
And then there will be the times when I see you laughing. Like the time you'll be playing with the neighbor's puppy, poking your hands through the chain-link fence separating our back yards, and you'll be laughing so hard you'll start hiccuping. The puppy will run inside the neighbor's house, and your laughter will gradually subside, letting you catch your breath. Then the puppy will come back to the fence to lick your fingers again, and you'll shriek and start laughing again. it will be the most wonderful sound I could ever imagine, a sound that makes me feel like a fountain, or a wellspring.
Now if only I can remember that sound the next time your blithe disregard for self-preservation gives me a heart attack. ~ Ted Chiang

I came at her like a snake.
"I am fully done with other people telling me what to do with my history," I said. "My past made me who I am. There is no way to wipe it clean. I am the evidence. If you look at me and see track marks and too-skinny arms and hands that know how to hold a gun and a brain that is sharper and faster than yours, then that is not my problem. Do you hear me? I have regrets, and I have made mistakes, but I am who I am. I'm done pretending that I've wholly remade myself, that I'm going to ... to hie myself away in some lecture hall for the next four years to make you all comfortable." She was backed up against the door, now, her arms wrapped around herself, and I didn't care. "If you want to stop seeing it, you'll have to stop seeing me, and I am not going to disappear. ~ Brittany Cavallaro

Undermine the entire economic structure of society by leaving the pay toilet door ajar so the next person can get in free. ~ Taylor Mead

I've always felt that the real horror is next door to us, that the scariest monsters are our neighbors. ~ George A. Romero

Andre always seemed bent on asserting his individuality and independence, while I tried to submerge my individuality and accepted the loss of some personal freedoms. Andre was Joe Frazier to my Muhammad Ali, although the personalities were kind of flipped around because Andre was the showman and I was the craftsman. Wherever you lived, we were your neighbors: I was the nice, quiet kid next door on one side, and Andre was the rebellious teenager on the other. ~ Pete Sampras

The initial shock isn't as hard as the weeks that follow." He sipped his coffee as Zach lifted his head. "Right now you still think he'll walk through the door. That he'll have something to say. But you know he's gone. Then you'll go through the arrangements, the funeral, and those who will come to pay their respects," he continued. "Then next week you'll pick up the phone to call him and he won't be there. ~ Bernadette Marie