Game Changer Quotes

I have been with lots of women. That was not ... fake. But ... He looked at Shane, and Shane held his breath. I have only been in love with one person.

Real men are the ones who go to sleep next to you at night, wake up next to you in the morning and hold you in their hearts all the hours in between.

I’m coming to the cottage.

Ilya couldn’t believe what he had been reduced to. He was...infatuated. It was disgusting.

Ilya was wearing a Boston Bears shirt. "That's not going to help." "Oh, do they not know I play for Boston?

Mr. Pugh turned bright red. His cheeks puffed up like the galls of shad from the nearby river. His green- monster eyes rolled around his face, and he pounded both fists down on the table, and through grinding teeth and snorting gasps hollered, “INDEED NOT, MISS KNAPP! Slaves are not allowed to read and write. We have you here with good and steady pay to instruct our children and nothing else. Going near that boy, or any other slave, with chalk or book learnin’ is strictly forbidden! Do you understand me?

I have ruined you," Rozanov said when they broke apart. "No one else will do.

So... it's her. She's the Game Changer for you?

Sam was starting to feel anxious. Nutella and noodles were fine. Great in fact. Miraculous. But he'd been hoping for more food more water more medicine something. It was absurdly like Christmas morning when he was little: hoping for something he couldn't even put a name to. A game changer. Something...amazing.

…And I want to learn Russian. I wasn’t kidding about that.” “I’ll teach you.” Shane smiled so wide and bright, Ilya almost had to look away. “I should let you sleep,” Shane said. “Da. Yes. Okay.” And then… Shane kissed the tips of two fingers and reached out and touched them to the screen. And Ilya’s heart fucking stopped.

Does it...does it feel like agony for you too?' Ilya started to nod, then stopped. He shook his head slowly instead. 'Not anymore.

If you're reading this, I hope God opens incredible doors for your life this year. Greatness is upon you. You must believe it though.

I give Hunter shit, but what he did was brave. Kissing his boyfriend on TV like that. And the speech at the awards.” “It was. It really…made me hopeful. That things might be changing.” Ilya shot the puck back to Shane. “It made me jealous,” he admitted. Shane laughed. "You wanna kiss me on television?" "Yes. After I win the Stanley cup." Shane spread his arms out. "Oh, so in this scenario, you've just defeated me?" "Yes. Sorry." “I’m not going to be in the mood to kiss you if I’ve just lost the Stanley Cup, Rozanov.” “But you would be so proud of me!

Kiss me, Ilya wanted to say. Kiss me and hold me in front of all these people. Pull me onstage and do it. I don’t care anymore. Please. I’m dying. “Nothing,” Ilya said, and stepped away. “Nothing.

I don't want to be here without you. We can fix this. But we can't fix it if you walk away. I can't make us work by myself.

Hollander was damn cute when he was embarrassed. "Did you buy a building so we would have somewhere to fuck, Hollander?" [...] Hollander had bought them a fucking building.

When their eyes had locked, he'd squeezed Ilya's fingers, just a little. That look, and that squeeze, had said so many things to Ilya. I know. We were supposed to stand alone at the top, but we will always be there together.

Do you think we looked like that to them?” “What, sexy? I probably did.” “No, like...in love?” Ilya seemed to consider the question before answering. “We are very good at pretending to not be in love. Maybe we are bad at showing it when we are allowed.

Fuck you and your loon!” Ilya said. “Stupid Canadian wolf bird.

I love hockey, and I deserve to have the career I want for as long as I want it. I’ve earned that. But if I had to choose...I’d choose him.

You're my game changer, you know that?

You are very beautiful,” Ilya said. Shane smiled without opening his eyes. “Come on.” “Is the truth. Your freckles.” Ilya grazed a fingertip over his own cheek. “I am nuts about them.” “I have no idea why. I hate them.” “Noooo...” Ilya moaned. “Hollander. They are stunning.” “Stunning?” “Yes. Am I not using that word right? Very beautiful. Um...take my breath?” “Wow. Alright” “I told you...” Ilya grinned. “You love praise.” When Shane didn’t reply, Ilya said, “And you like to hog it all for yourself. You asshole.

Ilya hadn’t realized how much fun it would be to confuse Hayden with compliments. He would have to do it more often.

Last night was a game changer, so far as I’m concerned. I gave you your space, let you go. But you came back, so now you’re fair game. I’m done being the nice guy.

He wanted to tell Shane that the closest he felt to home was when he was with him.

This principle - that your spouse should be capable of becoming your best friend - is a game changer when you address the question of compatibility in a prospective spouse. If you think of marriage largely in terms of erotic love, then compatibility means sexual chemistry and appeal. If you think of marriage largely as a way to move into the kind of social status in life you desire, then compatibility means being part of the desired social class, and perhaps common tastes and aspirations for lifestyle. The problem with these factors is that they are not durable. Physical attractiveness will wane, no matter how hard you work to delay its departure. And socio-economic status unfortunately can change almost overnight. When people think they have found compatibility based on these things, they often make the painful discovery that they have built their relationship on unstable ground. A woman 'lets herself go' or a man loses his job, and the compatibility foundation falls apart.

They had lots of reasons to keep their relationship a secret, but those reasons seemed extremely unimportant now. What if Ilya had died? What if he had fucking died? Shane would have died too. Alone, and secretly, and for the rest of his life.

I’m fucked,” he murmured in Russian. “I am so fucking in love and it’s horrible.

I love you.” Shane froze. And then Ilya froze. “Holy shit,” Shane whispered. It wasn’t how he had meant to respond. “I...” Ilya’s eyes were so wide and so scared. “I love you too,” Shane said.

That admission would have been embarrassing enough, but Ilya had also slipped in an “and on top of everything, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you and I don’t know what to do about it.

Love is life. If you miss out on love, you miss out on life -Gramps

Does anyone ever get tired of being brave, Prosper?” I put my tiny hand in his. He squeezed it gently and said,” Sure they do little darlin’, people get tired of being brave all the time.” “What happens then, Prosper?” I was looking at him now, the weight of the world on my shoulders. I heard something catch in the back of his throat and he had to clear it before he went on. “Why they call on someone who has some brave left over, that’s what they do honey.” “Prosper?” “Yes Raine?” “Do you have any brave left over?” “Little darlin’, just so happens I been saving up a bunch of brave just for you.

What? I want to know about your family! All I know is your mother is Japanese or something. Probably where you get your looks." "Half of them, yes." "And your dad is... boring? Is that where you get your boring from?" Shane shook his head, but he was smiling a bit. "My dad is not boring.

Sasha told me you were looking for engagement rings. Do you have a specific style in mind?" Yeah the kind that fits on her hand and makes her say yes when I propose

companies should focus on one of three value disciplines: operational excellence, product leadership, or customer intimacy.

Maybe he should ask Ilya for Shane Hollander’s number. Shane was a fucking babe.

You should quit hockey," Ilya murmured. "Send them a text. Say you quit. Stay here with me." "I'm not ending my career via text." "Email, then.

In the car, Shane told his parents that he had been talking to Ilya Rozanov. “What’s he like?” his mother asked. “Kind of a dick,” Shane said.

Shane seemed very excited about the burgers. He had followed a recipe online. Ilya took a sip of his beer. "Why the fuck are you making eight burgers?" he asked. "That's how many the recipe was for!" "You can't do math? Cut it in half?" "Leave me alone." Instead, Ilya stood directly behind Shane and draped an arm across his chest. He kissed him behind the ear. "No", he murmured.

He broke his promise. He said he would never hurt me, he said he would never leave. Against my better judgement, he made me believe in forever again... until now.

People are moved more by stories than by logic. Ease listeners into the new or unknown by building the logic of your model into a compelling narrative.

Maybe therapy, like so many things worth doing, hurts when you first start.

Ilya opened Instagram and started typing a new private message to ShaneHollanderHockeyPlayer. Shane You are the best thing in my life. I love you. Always. Maybe from the first time I saw you. I am thinking only about you right now. A million memories. Thank you for those. Whatever happens, I am with you. Safe in your heart. I believe it. He did. Ilya only had vague ideas of the afterlife and any gods who may be waiting there, but he believed his soul would stay with Shane, however it could. He believed the people you loved stayed with you until it was your time to go. He often felt his mother with him, and he knew he’d do the same for Shane.

I promise to stand by you, to hold you up when you’re about to fall, and to always keep you safe. I never believed there was a girl out there for me. Until I met you. You changed everything. And I never want to live without you. I love you more than I ever thought possible.

My nana used to say that broken people love the hardest because they appreciate the things that make their heart beat. Do I make your heart beat?

If you don't take the shot...you'll never know whether it would have gone in or not.

What’s wrong with the closet? It’s a wonderful place crammed full of professional athletes.

Um, and this is….Ilya. Rozanov. You probably know that.” “Hi,” Ilya said. “And he’s been…visiting. He’s…we’re, um…” What were they, exactly? It occurred to Shane that he and Ilya hadn’t even figured out what label they were comfortable with. “Lovers,” Ilya offered. Fuck, way to choose the grossest possible word, Ilya. Well, there was no going back from that word. Shane could only wait for the aftermath. “But…you hate him,” Mom said. “No, I…don’t. I mean. Sometimes I do, kinda. But mostly I..love him. Actually.” “You..what?

But,” Shane said. He had to say this next part. It had been eating away at him for too long. “You want to get married, right? To a woman, I mean. You’re not...like me. You like women. And I’m sure...Svetlana is gorgeous and fun and...all that stuff. Right?” “Yes,” Ilya said. “I do. She is. But.” “But?” Ilya shrugged, and he looked like he was possibly blushing. “I have this problem,” he mumbled. Shane waited. “I like women. I always was thinking that to get married would be nice. Kids. All of that. Someday. But...this problem will not go away.” Shane bit his lip. “Tell me about this problem.” “Is so annoying.” Ilya sighed, and Shane could see him fighting a grin. “Always I am with beautiful women. Wonderful women. Everywhere.” “Sounds rough.” “Yes. Listen. These women, they are so sexy and fun, but is no matter. I cannot stop thinking about this short fucking hockey player with these stupid freckles and a weak backhand.” “A weak backhand?” Shane couldn’t stop smiling. “Yes. And he is just so boring and he drives a terrible car and...that is my problem. All of these beautiful women and I am always wishing they were him.” Ilya bent to take his third shot. “Is terrible problem.” Fuck. Shane was going start crying right here in his games room. He swallowed and steadied himself. “Do you want the problem to go away?” “No,” Ilya said seriously, looking Shane dead in the eye. “I do not want the problem to ever go away.

There was something a little creepy about sitting in this small pool of light in the middle of total darkness. It was so eerily quiet - just the crackling of the fire, the occasional lap of water from the lake, and - A fucking wolf. That was a fucking wolf howl. "What the fuck was that?" Ilya said. He couldn't conceal the terror in his voice. But who the fuck cared, because they were surrounded by hungry wolves! Shane laughed. "It's a loon." "A what?" "A loon!" Shane was really laughing now. "It's a bird. Like a duck, kind of. Oh my god, you thought it was a wolf!" "What the fuck bird makes a noise like that?" "A loon!" Shane said again. Then he doubled over in hysterics. Ilya wanted to push him into the fire. "Fuck you and your loon!" Ilya said. "Stupid Canadian wolf bird.

Listen, that girl is my world, and I can’t stand the thought of anyone hurting her. I’d handle this myself if I could play the game and be by her side at the same time, but I can’t

People spend their lives searching for their one true love, their other half. I found mine in college, dancing in a fraternity house driveway. Lucky for me, she found me right back.

His mother looked at him sympathetically. “When the right one comes along, you’ll know,” she said. And Shane chickened out. Because he couldn’t tell them that the right one had come along, and it was the pissed-off Russian man who was currently heading the penalty box on their television.

The older you get, the more you realize that it isn't about the material things, or pride or ego. It’s about our hearts and who they beat for.

Unfortunately, the move also caused him to smash Ilya in the face with his ass.

I love you. I don’t want to be anywhere without you. You told me once that I was your game changer, but the thing is, you’re mine too. It took me a little time to realize that, but I finally did. You’re my game changer. Because nothing else matters if you’re not with me.

A person has only so much juice, and it’s ideally kept for your homeboys, not all pissed away on strangers before three in the day. Simple as that sounds, it was a game changer for me. I taught myself to save the juice. It’s a skill, like weight training, you do reps. Tell yourself ten times each night, don’t spend your juice on those sirens, worrying about the life screaming past on its way to getting tanked. Don’t spend it on the customers around you at Walmart Supercenter, just do your job without feeling the madness or sadness, the moms on the brink of snatching their kids bald-headed. The carts loaded with cases of PBR and Pampers.

I could not say any of the things I wanted to say. I said you were a great hockey player. A nice guy. Very competitive. All of the shit that any of your teammates could have said.” Ilya sighed loudly, then continued in a quieter tone. “When you watch it, this is what you will see. Me saying nothing. I wanted to say you were fucking everything to me. Everything, okay?

And...like I said. We’re an hour away from each other. All year.” He wanted Ilya to see this vision as clearly as he could. It seemed tantalizingly possible. Easy, even. “And you’d be in Canada. And you could apply for citizenship eventually.” “Yes. I understand that part.” “And maybe...someday. When we both retire. We can...be together. For real.” Ilya looked stunned by that part. “You really think that far ahead, Hollander?” “I do about this.” “You want that? To be together?” “I do. So much it terrifies me.” Ilya turned his face away from Shane, and was silent. Cold dread flooded Shane’s stomach; he had admitted too much." “But Ilya turned back and quickly rolled on top of Shane and was kissing him and kissing him and kept murmuring the same thing in Russian over and over again until he pulled back and translated: “I love you.” Shane froze. And then Ilya froze. “Holy shit,” Shane whispered. It wasn’t how he had meant to respond. “I...” Ilya’s eyes were so wide and so scared. “I love you too,” Shane said. Ilya gave a shaky smile and exhaled. “Thank Christ.” “Does it...does it feel like agony for you too?” Ilya started to nod, then stopped. He shook his head slowly instead. “Not anymore.

I’d never, ever do anything that would hurt you. That I promise. I’m so happy that we are together right now, I can’t even tell you.

Then don’t give up. One day you’ll look around and realize that all the things you thought mattered so much, really didn’t matter much at all.- Gran

Every obstacle in life will fade away once success becomes the only goal allowed to enter your mind

No. But if he does come over here—Okay, he sees you.” “How can you tell?” “Because he just lit up like the goddamn sun. Jesus. You guys are doomed.

Feeling the relief of him taking her worries, knowing that he would stew on them, mix them all around and give them back in a way that made her feel better. In a way that would make everything better.

You don’t cause me stress. I cause me stress because I can’t relax when it comes to you. Because I love you so damn much.

I made a mistake before, but it won’t happen again. I know you’d leave me forever if I did and I can’t…” he paused, “I won’t lose you again.

It made me wonder how many important causes were crushed not by opposition, but by lukewarm support.

You were smoking,” he complained sleepily. “No.” “I can smell it.” Ilya kissed his shoulder. “Maybe your house is on fire.

We are together at your cottage. You are gay. I am hot.

On your knees,” Ilya said softly, just to see what he would do.

I know you hated that guy.” “Hate is a strong word,” Scott said. “A strong, accurate word.

wished he could just wear a sign that said I’m sorry. I am terrible at socializing. Please don’t take it personally.

Ilya nodded to the ring. "Yes," Ilya said again. "I am saying yes, Hollander." "Oh." Then Shane’s lips spread into a wide grin. "Yeah?" He scrambled to his feet and into Ilya’s arms. They kissed, and Ilya said, "Yes." They kissed again, and Ilya said, "Of course." They kissed some more, and Shane said, "I love you." By the time they finished kissing they both had tears streaming down their cheeks. "Is this because I almost died?" Ilya teased. "No. It’s because I almost died." Ilya brushed the tears on Shane’s face with his thumb. What could he even say to that?

Why do you have sexy mood lighting in your gym?” “You have it in yours.” “Yeah. For yoga and meditation. Two things you don’t do.” “But you do them. So I have lights that dim. For you.” Shane’s heart wobbled. “Oh.

Ilya smiled to himself. He actually loved this. He loved being on the road, and disappointing home crowds across North America. He loved the insults, the booing, and, most of all, the sound of a crowd so gutted by his team's performance that they couldn't even bother to boo. A winded, humiliated crowd. That was Ilya's favorite sound.

Thank you. It’s my job to protect you. It’s my job to keep you safe. Let me do it or I’ll fucking go insane

Your drug of choice is the wrong men.

Jack Carter does not exist as a full person without Cassie Andrews

You are only confined by the rules you set for yourself. Live your life,

Don't hide from it. Experience it. Experiencing your lives is the most important thing you can do.

Other people are only as powerful as you allow them to be in your world. Shrink the thoughts you give them, and you will literally shrink their role in your life.

Ilya shook his head. “What is the point of life if you are not eating chicken parmesan and ice cream?

Heart eyes. Hayden said I look at you with heart eyes.” Shane squirmed against his bedsheets. “When did he say that?” “At camp. I was staring at you and he said—” “Oh god.” Shane palmed his face. “He did not say that.” “Yes. Was probably true. I look at you and I am just...” Ilya opened and closed his fist several times in front of his chest. “My heart goes crazy

There was an urgency in Scott’s eyes, but when he finally leaned in and kissed Kip, it was slow and deliberate. It wasn’t a conversation; it was Scott telling him something important, and making sure Kip was listening.

You don’t play with your ass? It makes you gay?” “Oh my fucking god...” “You know what makes you gayer?” “Rozanov...shut the fuck—” “Sucking my dick. You were doing that a minute ago.” Hollander sat up. “I’ve played with it

The thought hit him that this was it. This was going to be his sex life now. No more meaningless—but undeniably hot—one-night stands. No more booty calls while he was on the road. He was going to give it all up for this chance

A Value Proposition creates value for a Customer Segment through a distinct mix of elements catering to that segment’s needs. Values may be quantitative (e.g. price, speed of service) or qualitative (e.g. design, customer experience).

That would be the... Blue Moon Over Brooklyn?” “Yeah. All the names here are kinda dumb.” The man pointed a long finger at Kip's name tag. “I like your name.” Kip glanced at his own name on the tag, as if he didn't know what it said. Like an idiot.

What matters the most is who you love. Because when everything else is a distant memory, the people you love are all that’s left. And love is the single most important thing we can do in our lives. Give it. Receive it. Teach others how to do it-Gran

I have been thinking...” Ilya said. He’d never said any of this out loud before. He maybe hadn’t even formed it altogether in his head before. “I am a free agent, after next season.” He definitely had Shane’s full attention now. “You’d leave Boston?” “I have just been thinking. Maybe...a Canadian team.” “Holy shit, really?” “Yes.” “Like where?” Ilya could see the thoughts play out on Shane’s face like a movie: What if we played together in Montreal? No. Montreal couldn’t afford both of us. “Not Montreal,” Ilya said gently. “No. I know.” But good god, now Ilya was imagining that. Playing together, living together, being together. It was never going to happen. But it was a nice thought.

I love you. I wish there were different words that I could say, but no one’s been clever enough to invent any yet. So it’s all I’ve got. But it’s everything. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Please come home soon.

Because," he said in an even voice, "you're used to winning, so you don't even think about how, every time there's a game, both sides get that 'rah, rah, team' speech from their coaches both sides hear 'you're the best!' 'You've got to win!' 'You're the greatest!' But half of the people playing that game are going to walk away losers. Half!

retreat, with nothing to look forward to, nowhere to be, nothing to do, we are forced to confront the “wound of existence” head-on, to stare into the abyss and realize that so much of what we do in life—every shift in our seat, every bite of food, every pleasant daydream—is designed to avoid pain or seek pleasure. But if we can drop all that, we can, as Sam once said in his speech to the angry, befuddled atheists, learn how to be happy “before anything happens.” This happiness is self-generated, not contingent on exogenous forces; it’s the opposite of “suffering.” What the Buddha recognized was a genuine game changer.

I promise to stand by you and not run away when things get tough,” I told him solemnly. “I promise to always talk to you about the things that are bothering me, no matter how stupid and insignificant I think they are. I promise to be a better team player. Because there isn’t a game on earth I want to play if you’re not by my side.

He enjoyed a brief fantasy as he sat on the bench of pressing Shane against the glass after scoring a goal and kissing him breathless. That would shut this fucking crowd up. “Man,” Bood said as they skated to the bench, “this town hates you.” “Nah. They wish I played for them.” Bood laughed. “Hollander would hate that.” “My good friend Shane Hollander, you mean?” “There’s no way he likes you that much.” “He loves me,” Ilya said plainly. Honestly. Bood, of course, thought he was kidding. “Now you’re really dreaming.” Ilya chomped on his mouthguard to avoid smiling.

The most recent post was from yesterday —Christmas— and it was of the foosball table Shane had given him. No caption. He scrolled and found a photo of the exercise ball Shane had been balancing on in Ilya's gym. One of the latest puzzle Ilya had completed with Shane's dad. One of Ilya's loon tattoo. One of the two plastic heart rings, together on Shane's dresser. Shane realized that most or Ilya's posts were, in weird cryptic ways, about Shane. His entire account was like a secret diary of their relationship, full of inside jokes and little references that only Shane would understand. And Shane hadn't even bothered to look at it before. Not really. He looked now. He scrolled until his eyes were so blurry that he had to give up and sob into his hands instead. How could Shane have doubted for a second how fiercely Ilya loved him?

Raine’s been through some shit.” Prosper was looking at Diego. “Shit that happened in what they call the formative years. Shit that happens when you’re that young, sets a course for the rest of it.” Prosper was looking right into Diego’s eyes. “Shit that she keeps buried deep. So deep she has to wrap her arms around herself to keep it in. Because if she don’t, she’s afraid that on the way out, it will tear her up so bad inside that it will kill her. Stuff she keeps down. Stuff she thinks no one knows or can see or can touch but her.

This is how it needs to be in life. Solomon also wrote these words in Ecclesiastes 4:9-10 (NIV) "Two are better than one, because if either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls down and has no one to help them up." God didn't intend for us to do life alone. So let me ask you, who do you turn to when life hits you hard in the mouth? Your family? Some trusted friends? A teacher or coach? Are you building relationships today that will be there for you tomorrow when adversity comes your way? Do you have humility to look to others for strength and encouragement, or are you holding to the foolish pride that says, "I need to make it alone"?

This is meant to be in praise of the interval called hangover, a sadness not co-terminous with hopelessness, and the North American doubling cascade that (keep going) “this diamond lake is a photo lab” and if predicates really do propel the plot then you might see Jerusalem in a soap bubble or the appliance failures on Olive Street across these great instances, because “the complex Italians versus the basic Italians” because what does a mirror look like (when it´s not working) but birds singing a full tone higher in the sunshine. I´m going to call them Honest Eyes until I know if they are, in the interval called slam clicker, Realm of Pacific, because the second language wouldn´t let me learn it because I have heard of you for a long time occasionally because diet cards may be the recovery evergreen and there is a new benzodiazepene called Distance, anti-showmanship, anti-showmanship, anti-showmanship. I suppose a broken window is not symbolic unless symbolic means broken, which I think it sorta does, and when the phone jangles what´s more radical, the snow or the tires, and what does the Bible say about metal fatigue and why do mothers carry big scratched-up sunglasses in their purses. Hello to the era of going to the store to buy more ice because we are running out. Hello to feelings that arrive unintroduced. Hello to the nonfunctional sprig of parsley and the game of finding meaning in coincidence. Because there is a second mind in the margins of the used book because Judas Priest (source: Firestone Library) sang a song called Stained Class, because this world is 66% Then and 33% Now, and if you wake up thinking “feeling is a skill now” or “even this glass of water seems complicated now” and a phrase from a men´s magazine (like single-district cognac) rings and rings in your neck, then let the consequent misunderstandings (let the changer love the changed) wobble on heartbreakingly nu legs into this street-legal nonfiction, into this good world, this warm place that I love with all my heart, anti-showmanship, anti-showmanship, anti-showmanship.

Women are taught to sacrifice, to play nice, to live an altruistic life because a good girl is always rewarded in the end. This is not a virtue; it is propaganda. Submission gets you a ticket to future prosperity that will never manifest. By the time you realize the ticket to success and happiness you have been sold isn’t worth the paper it was printed on, it will be too late. Go on, spend a quarter of your life, even half of your life, in the service of others and you will realize you were hustled. You do not manifest your destiny by placing others first! A kingdom built on your back doesn’t become your kingdom, it becomes your folly. History does not remember the slaves of Egypt that built the pyramids, they remember the Pharaohs that wielded the power over those laborers. Yet here you are, content with being a worker bee, motivated by some sales pitch that inspires you to work harder for some master than you work for yourself, with this loose promise that one day you will share in his wealth. Altruism is your sin. Selfishness is your savior. Ruthless aggression and self-preservation are not evil. Why aren’t females taught these things? Instead of putting themselves first, women are told to be considerate and selfless. From birth, they have been beaten in the head with this notion of “Don’t be selfish!” Fuck that. Your mother may have told you to wait your turn like a good girl, but I’m saying cut in front of that other bitch. Club Success is about to hit capacity, and you don’t want to be the odd woman out. Where are the powerful women? Those who refuse to play by those rules and want more out of life than what a man allows her to have? I created a category for such women and labeled them Spartans. Much like the Greek warriors who fought against all odds, these women refuse to surrender and curtsy before the status quo. Being