Laminate Countertop Quotes

What are you on, Samuel?"
This was easier, he glanced down. "Laminate. ~ Tanya Huff

He fakes a smile and then turns to unlock the door.
I follow him inside; he stops me at the kitchen island. "I found it right here." He points to the countertop.
"You found what right where?" I ask, feeling my face scrunch up in bewilderment.
"The crossword puzzle from today." He pulls it out of his pocket. "I found it here when I was making breakfast this morning."
"Wait, you didn't get it in the mail?"
"I'm sorry; I thought I mentioned that."
"No," I say, holding back from whacking him in the head. "I think I would've remembered if someone had broken into your apartment.
"I'm sorry," he repeats, and then lets out a stress-filled sigh.
"So, someone broke in here last night while you were asleep?"
"I'm not sure. I was thinking that, too, but then . . . what if I just didn't see it last night when I got home?"
"Are you sure you didn't set your mail down here, maybe even for a second, and then leave this piece behind?"
"What difference does it makes?"
"It makes a huge difference." My voice gets louder. "The difference between someone breaking in or not." I peer around the kitchen and living room, trying to see if anything looks off.
"I don't know." He reaches for a box of cereal. "I mean, I'm pretty sure I would've noticed getting another puzzle in the mail, especially since we've been talking so much about this stuff."
"Who has a key to your apartment?"
"No one that I know of."
"None of your friend ~ Laurie Faria Stolarz

Since the late 1980s, woodworkers and cabinet makers have used vacuum press systems to build curved furniture and architectural components of all sizes and shapes - and, in many cases, to laminate inexpensive materials with exotic veneers. The method was born out of the aircraft manufacturing industry ~ Matt Berger

The only thing I'll be bending is you over this countertop. I plan to rip your panties off, pull your hair, and fuck you hard. ~ Brooke Cumberland

There was a soft chiming sound, which meant, tragedy of tragedies, the angel had just popped himself up onto the countertop. "So, what are we doing tonight? Wait, let me guess, sitting in morose silence. Or, no ... you're mixing it up. Brooding with soulful intensity, right? What a fucking wild child you are. Whoo. Hoo. Next thing you know, you'll be opening for Slipknot."
With a curse, Tohr stood up and went over to turn on the shower, hoping that if he refused to look at the loudmouth, Lassiter would get bored more quickly and move on to ruin someone else's afternoon. ~ J.R. Ward

September Day sloshed another half cup of coffee into the giant #1-Bitch mug, and glared out the frosty breakfast nook windows. North Texas didn't get snow. That's why she'd moved back home - well, one of several reasons. She shivered, relishing the warmth of the beverage, and toasted the storm with a curse. "Damn false advertising." Her cat Macy meowed agreement. The blizzard drove icy wind through cracks in the antique windows and made the just-in-case candles on the dark countertop sputter. She pulled the fuzzy bathrobe closer around her neck. Normally the kitchen's stained glass spilled peacock-bright color into the kitchen. ~ Amy Shojai

Big Brother has no interest in well-informed citizens capable of critical thinking. Big Brother wants you to shop at Wal-Mart, where He will control the media that influences your life. The media works with the government and with the large corporations to form mass culture, which is utilized to create public consent, and most folks aren't even aware of this process as it goes on all around them. Big Brother is actively seeking the complacency of the wage-slaves. Big Brother doesn't want you to know about the spoken word performances given by Henry Rollins, or Jello Biafra or Terrence McKenna- or a thousand other people- because they will crack your laminate of societal posturing. Big Brother doesn't want you to know about Bill Hicks, because Brother Bill will provide you with the courage and impetus to spit in Big Brother's face. The internet is but one facet of our mass-marketed popular culture, and everyone is plugged into it. If you're reading this, you are a part of it, the internet, one large hive mind, a singular consciousness. And that can be a good thing, but too often, people let themselves slip into it, into this world, to the point where they are no longer able to differentiate between what they think, what they know, and what is thrust upon them. They have no access to their own point of view, or their own spiritual consciousness, for lack of a better way to phrase it. So, to answer your question, in a lengthy and circuitous fashion, I would say that disgust with ~ Larry Mitchell

The overhead lights reflect in the glass countertop and mingle in the gray and black of the gloves, resulting in a mother-of-pearl swirl that sometimes sends Mirabelle into a shallow hypnotic dream. ~ Steve Martin

I close my eyes and hear wind rushing through palm trees again. And then laughter. The scene is foggy at first, and then it comes into sharp focus. I am standing in a kitchen. It's one of those big, well-appointed spaces you see in magazines, but this one is well loved, not just staged. A cake bakes in the oven. Carrot. There are matches and a box of birthday candles at the ready by the stove. Stan Getz's smoky-sweet saxophone filters from a speaker somewhere nearby. I'm stirring a pot of marinara sauce; a bit has splattered onto the marble countertop, but I don't care. I take a sip of wine and sway to the music. A little girl giggles on the sofa. I don't see her face, just her blond ponytail. And then warm, strong arms around my waist as he presses his body against me. I breathe in the scent of rugged spice, fresh cotton, and love. ~ Sarah Jio

I'm dating Brandon," I told his bowed head.
"Really?" he asked without looking up.
"Yes!"
"I'll print you a wallet card to whip out every time you need to say that, so you can save your voice."
"Could you laminate it? ~ Jennifer Echols

I'll be damned. Miranda Sweet, is it you or is my glaucoma acting up again?" Ruby Sue sat her glass down on the Formica countertop with a clank. "You always did know how to make an entrance. Who do you think you are, the Queen of England? ~ Avery Flynn

I think I might have something for you today, he says, reaches beneath the counter, and his hand comes back with a book, clothbound cover the color of antique ivory, title and author stamped in faded gold and art deco letters. Best Ghost Stories by Algernon Blackwood, and she lifts it carefully off the countertop, picks it up the way someone else might lift a diamond necklace or a sick kitten, and opens the book to the frontispiece and title page, black-and-white photo of the author in a dapper suit, sadkind eyes and his bow tie just a little crooked. ~ Caitlin R. Kiernan

Your mind is like a sponge, in the sense that it would come in handy when cleaning off a countertop or something like that. ~ Demetri Martin

This isn't a countertop sex kind of moment, Iris.
What kind of moment is it, then?
It's a showing you how beautiful you are moment. ~ J.R. Richardson

Well, if we didn't sail together, how did you ever - ah, you must have snuck a peek at my luggage labels." I tried to remain casual, but leaned away as the man drew closer still, inspecting me. The oak countertop dug into my back uncomfortably. He smelled faintly of cloves and cinnamon.
"I did nothing of the sort. That would be an impolite invasion of privacy," the man stated flatly as he picked a bit of lint from my sleeve, tasted it, and tucked it somewhere inside his baggy coat. ~ William Ritter

mounted hordes from the steppes, such as the Scythians, Huns, Mongols, Turks, Magyars, Tatars, Mughals, and Manchus. For two thousand years these warriors deployed meticulously crafted composite bows (made from a glued laminate of wood, tendon, and horn) to run up immense body counts in their sackings and raids. These tribes were responsible for numbers 3, 5, 11, and 15 on the top-twenty-one list, and they take four of the top six slots in the population-adjusted ranking. ~ Steven Pinker

You sayin' you want to go?"
"Don't you?"
"Hell no!"
"Okay,I'll tell Matt and Jared that they can go to Paris without us."
The only response was stunned silence, and I finally turned to smile at him. "Do you want to reconsider?" I asked.
"The wedding's in Paris?"
"Yep."
His dark eyes were huge, and I could see so much in them. He was excited, almost giddy. I could see it bubbling up in him, but he was trying t stay calm and not get his hopes up. "Can we afford Paris?"
"No," I said, "but it doesn't matter. Cole's footing the bill."
He grabbed my shirt and pushed me back against the countertop, almost as if he was going to kiss me, but stopped short, looking into my eyes. "Are you serious?"
"Would I lie to you about something like this?"
"No."
"Do you think I'd make it up just to tease you?"
"No."
"Yes."
He backed up a step. "Yes what?"
he asked.
I could hardly keep from laughing that I'd finally managed to turn the tables on him with his own backward form of communication. "Yes, I'm absolutely serious. Cole offered to fly us all to Paris."
...
His expression was so full of hope, I thought it was a good thing I hadn't tried to say no. He put his hand against my cheek and looked into my eyes. "Tell me what you want to do."
All I had to do was tell him the truth. I brushed his hair out of his eyes and said, "I want to do whatever will make you happy."
He smiled at me, the huge, ~ Marie Sexton

Now put your hands on the countertop, and bend over. I'm going to shove you so full of cock you won't even remember how to spell your name for a week," he said in his deep voice.

"Oh my. Ok," I said as I did what he asked. As I grabbed the edges of the countertop, I felt his foot kicking the insides of my shoes, spreading my legs farther apart.

"You long legged, sexy little bitch. I have to get your pussy down here where I can get to it," he said, as he slapped the right side of my butt, hard. The slap startled me, and the sting felt like fire.

As soon as he stopped kicking my shoes and spreading my legs apart, I felt the head of his cock slide past my lips. His hands grabbed my waist, and he slid all the way inside of me. As soon as I felt his balls against my clit, I began to contract and felt as if I was going to cum. His cock slid out, and then back in again. He found a rhythm and began to fuck me slowly, his hips slapping lightly against my butt as he slid all the way into my wet pussy. As his hips slapped my ass, I could feel his balls against my clit. I couldn't take it anymore. If he kept up this pace, I would explode.

"Fuck me Erik, fuck me. Fuck me harder. Fuck me," I said loudly.

"Fuck me, Erik. Oh God. Fuck me."

"Fuck me."

"Harder." I begged.

"Who owns you, baby girl? Who fucking owns you?" he almost screamed.

"Oh God, you do. You own me. You."

"Don't forg ~ Scott Hildreth

Hold still baby girl. Hold still. I need you to do something for me," he said quietly.

I opened my mouth and said, "What?" but no words came out. I tried again.

Nothing.

He smiled.

He continued to lick my hip bone. He kissed it and looked me in the eyes.

"You listening?" he asked.

As I squeezing the countertop with each hand, my arms beside my body, my hands beside my butt, I nodded.

"Fuck my tongue. I want you to fuck my mouth, do you hear me?"

I opened my mouth and squeaked. My eyes closed. I felt his tongue move from my hip to my clit. His palm slid slowly across my hip, and rested in the depression between my hip and my pussy. His thumb was positioned on the skin above my clit, and pushed upward, exposing my clit totally. As his tongue met my clit, I squirmed.

I felt his lip on top of my clit, and his tongue on the bottom. He started a motion with his tongue and lip, with my clit in between. About three seconds into it, I was done…almost to climax. I felt myself begin to cum. No, not yet, not yet, please…make this last.

He lifted his head, and looked me in the eye. He must have sensed I was going to cum.

"No, don't stop. Please, Erik, don't fucking stop." I begged.

"Fuck my mouth. Grind your pussy on my face baby girl, do you hear me?"

"Yes sir. Do it. Do that again. Exactly what you were doing, exactly," I said, hoping he co ~ Scott Hildreth