I was a teenage wuss. In junior high school, I had oily, stringy hair and lots of pimples. I wore really wussy clothes. Most of the kids called me a faggot. Even some of the other wusses called me a faggot. There was maybe five kids in the whole school who were wussier than I was. I was really wussed out. I was afraid of girls, and guys scared the shit out of me.
John S. HallRelated topics
clothes five hair high junior maybe oily school teenage wear lots shit faggot wuss girls guys wussyRelated quotes
It's OK to argue with your friends. Guys can do it better than girls, usually, but if you ever get into a fight with a true friend or a spouse or a boyfriend, get it out, fight, be angry for five minutes, and then move past it. Don't let it fester; don't hold a grudge. If you do, that's when it will get worse and worse.
Ike Barinholtz
I am attracted to a thug. I like that quality, but I like the other side of it, too. Because all guys who go around behaving in macho ways are really scared little girls. So you have to look beneath the surface. There's a difference between my ideal man and a man that I'm sexually attracted to, believe me. Therein lies the rub.
Madonna (entertainer)
Everywhere you look, there is a charity or a project in school to get involved in. In eighth grade, there was this program called CJSF, California Junior Scholarship Foundation. We were involved in soup kitchens and toy drives, and your school can set up something like that. If your school doesn't have a program like that, set one up.
Lindsey Shaw
I used to skip out of high school and go flying. It was just one of those things, I thought it was kind of a cool thing to do. I never thought about doing that as a profession, but I started checking things out and I found out there was a flight school down in Daytona Beach, called Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University.
Jerry Doyle
Sonny sits by his window and thinks to himself, how it's strange that some rooms are like cages, Sonny's yearbook from high school is down from the shelf and he idoly thumbs through the pages. Some have died, some have fled from themselves, or struggled from here to get there. Sonny wonders beyond his interior walls, runs his hands through his thining brown hair.
Paul Simon
