I think you love people until you get to understand them, she said & I said, what happens then? & she said, o, that’s when you move away.
Do you make all this stuff up on your own? she said & I said I had a lot of people working for me day & night & most of them didn’t know it & I’m sure she was impressed until she figured out what I meant later on.
There are 7 levels of hell, she said, & I think one of them is reserved for people who bring jello salads to every potluck they go to.
I have to hate you, she said. You know too much about me to be trusted.
I saw Jacques Cousteau at the grocery store in L.A. once & I watched to see what he would buy, but he only got corn chips & some shoelaces & I don’t know what I expected, but I would’ve settled for a can of chunk light tuna even.
I’m of the opinion that people don’t know what they’re talking about 90 percent of the time, my grandpa said & my grandma smiled & said , O, you’re too late. The 10 percent slot filled up a few minutes ago. & we could hear him muttering all the way back out to the garden
I have a friend who does numerology in California & she called me up one night & said that 444 was the number of Wal-Mart, which is 30 percent off of 666 & we were both amazed & then I hung up the phone & said now I remember why we moved to Iowa.
hiding his light under a bushel because he’s been priced out of anything bigger by this market