Chick Magnet Quotes

Helios thought he looked pretty hot, and he had an annoying habit of calling the sun his "chick magnet.

Luis is right there.” I point to the corner of the yard, where my little brother is the centre of attention doing imitations of barnyard animals. I have yet to inform him that talent isn’t as much of a chick magnet when you get into junior high.

What the hell is it about brooding guys that’s attractive to women, anyway? I’ve become one since Dori’s call three weeks ago, and it’s made me more of a chick magnet. I shouldn’t be surprised—being a dick never hurt my appeal before.

I have an iron lung, and the dog keeps me from getting too close to magnets. [...] I have SARS. He's tallying the people I infect. [...] I'm nearsighted. He helps me read the road signs. [...] I'm a recovering alcoholic. The dog gets between me and a beer. [...] I have an irregular heartbeat and he's CPR certified. [...] Color-blind. He tells me when the traffic lights change. [...] He translates for my Spanish-speaking clients. [...] He's a chick magnet. [...] I'm a lawyer. He chases ambulances for me.

I should imagine that space-time as we now know it will hold no meaning for me at that stage of evolution. I'll be a chick magnet.

I used to be a chick magnet. Now, I'm just a refrigerator magnet.

You’re tense. You can’t do yoga if you’re tense.” I broke form and frowned at my yoga partner. “Would you quit henpecking me?” Sienna lifted an eyebrow. “Only if you stop crowing.” My mouth twitched, but I caught my smile before it could spread. “Next you’re going to call me cocky.” “I wasn’t. I was going to call you a chick magnet.” I gave in to a laugh and shook my head at Jethro’s fiancée. She was good at puns, and I liked this about her. She always put me in a better mood. Sienna flashed a smile and her trademark dimples made an appearance. “Did you enjoy that one?” “It’s better than being called a motherclucker.

Pet him.” He thrusts the thing at me. I jump back. It’s a rat. The hairless tail flicks around like a snake. “When my winning personality fails me and tech toys don’t tantalize, I find small furry rodents to be reliable chick magnets.” My eyes raise to his face. He’s so weird. So . . . His tender smile at the rat is kind of sweet. “Rattus norvegicus.” The boy releases the rat onto his shoulder. The tail wraps around his neck and I wince, like there’s a rope around mine. “Commonly known as the brown rat or fancy rat. Not because he’s decked out in finery, but it seems some people fancy rats.” He shoots that wide-open grin at me.

And remember when I said that Liam doesn’t spend money to the excess? I take that back. I might not be a car expert, but I know a Bugatti Veyron when I see one. And that’s what I’m looking at right now. A sexy-as-hell Bugatti. “This car is a total babe magnet.” I run my fingertips over the smooth, shiny black paintwork. “Like its owner,” he says, shutting the trunk with a soft clunk. “Ha!” I laugh. “Seriously though, you could look like the Hunchback of Notre Dame and still score a supermodel if you had this car.” Liam gives a mock-offended look. “I hope to fuck you’re not implying that chicks only dig me because of my car.” I laugh again. “As if. This is the first time I’ve seen your car, and I totally dug you long before this.” He comes around the car, toward me. Standing before me, he takes my face in his hands, tipping it back so that I’m looking up into his eyes. Leaning in, he softly kisses me on the lips. “I kinda dig you, too, Boston.

No, you put him in a bag.” I shook my head with a laugh. “I’m cool buying tampons, but I’m not walking a tiny dog into a store in a purse.” “It’s not a purse—it’s a satchel. And if this were entirely dignified, don’t you think all the guys would be doing it? It’s a core part of the strategy. Men don’t own dogs like this. They own dogs like that.” She pointed to my phone. “It’s adorable. Trust me. You’ll be a chick magnet.

The next morning, as Helios rode his chick magnet into the sky, King Kronos awoke to a sound like thunder. Probably because it was thunder.

I heard your ankles were having a party... want to invite your pants down?

If I could rearrange the alphabet, I'd put U and I together.

If looks could kill you would be a weapon of mass destruction.

The night is young, the moon is bright, and you are here with me tonight.

I've just moved you to the top of my 'to do' list.

It’s not a purse—it’s a satchel. And if this were entirely dignified, don’t you think all the guys would be doing it? It’s a core part of the strategy. Men don’t own dogs like this. They own dogs like that.” She pointed to my phone. “It’s adorable. Trust me. You’ll be a chick magnet.” I didn’t care about being a chick magnet, but I liked the idea of having an inside joke with her for some reason. “Okay. You’ve piqued my interest. I’ll test your theory.” “And if I’m right?” “Then I’ll tell you that you were right.” She twisted her lips to one side. “No. Not good enough. If I’m right, you pose in some website pictures with my dog satchels. I need a male model.” Oh God, what have I gotten myself into?“Somehow this whole deal feels like I’m the loser.” I chuckled. Whatever. I was a good sport. “How are you the loser? I’m giving you the opportunity to use my highly trained hunting dog to lure scores of women into your bed.” I smirked. “You know, without sounding like an asshole, I don’t really have a hard time getting women.” She tilted her head. “Yeah, I can see that. You have the whole sexy fireman thing going for you.” She waved a hand over my body. I took a drink of my soda and grinned at her. “So you think I’m sexy, huh?” She pivoted to face me full on. “There’s something you should know about me, Josh. I say what I think. I don’t have a coy bone in my body. Yes, you’re sexy. Enjoy the compliment because you won’t always like what I say to you, and I won’t care one way or the other if you do or don’t.

In Funny Face, all it takes for the lovely Audrey Hepburn, a mousy intellectual in a Greenwich Village bookshop, to question her high-minded celibacy (“My philosophic search / Has left me in the lurch”) is a peck on the cheek from a character played by Fred Astaire. Not Cary Grant or Gary Cooper: Fred Astaire. Well, he has as much right to play a chick magnet as she has to play an existentialist, but when she falls for him she hasn’t even seen him dance; she’s only seen him trash her bookstore.