Glue Guy Quotes

You're my escort?" Devon shrugged. "The Big Guy tells you to do something, you do it, even if it means babysitting a bratty little human girl who calls playing with glue an art." I reached over and smacked him.

I dunno." She sat on the bench and hugged the robe like a pillow. "I still think that Brett guy is cute." "Good luck getting him away from Bekka." Cleo gathered her silky black hair into a high pony and pink-dabbed Smith's Rosebud Salve on her lips. "She's got more grip than Crazy Glue." "More cling than Saran Wrap," Lala added. "More hold than Final Net." Cleo giggled. "More possession than The Exorcist," Lala managed. "More clench than butt cheeks," Blue chimed in. "More competition than American Idol," Frankie stuck out her chest and showed them her diva booty roll. The girls burst out laughing. "Nice!" Blue lifted her purple gloved hand. Frankie slapped it without a single spark. "I hate to be a downer..." Claudine shuffled back into the conversation wearing her slippers and robe. "But that girl will destroy you if she catches you with Brett." "I'm not worried," Frankie tossed her hair back. "I've seen all the teen movies, and the nice girl gets the boy in the end.

Ren exhaled heavily. “God, you’re so annoying.” “So?” Tink hovered in front of the couch, his wings furiously beating the air. “I’m rubber and you’re glue!” Ren turned to face the little guy. “What?” “Whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you!” Ren stared at him and then slowly shook his head as he turned back to me. “It’s like living with a two-year-old with the mental capacity of a fifteen-year-old boy.

The guy next to him looked like he had covered his body in glue and rolled through a knife store. At the bottom of the feed was a logo that said “LEAGUE OF BADASS.

When I’m with you, it feels like I’ve been given a second chance at living. I never thought I’d get that.” He lowered his head for a brief second, his fingers splayed over my back stroking with the slightest touch. “I can breathe easily with you. When we were apart …” His finger slid over my lower lip back and forth. “You ever feel like your body is silently screaming? Like you’re constantly missing something, but you can’t figure out what?” Yeah, all the time, but I’d never admit that to anyone. “For almost three fuckin’ years, I felt like that. I didn’t know at first, but then when I figured out it was you I was missing all the time, Jesus, the screaming, it stopped, Kat. And it became tranquil and beautiful. “You think I brought you here for you? I’m not that nice of a guy, Kat. I brought you here for me. So I could glue you back to me.” He leaned forward and kissed me then whispered against my lips, “It’s permanent glue, baby.” Holy shit. I didn’t know what to say. My heart pounded so fast with my lips parted, my breath was hesitant and uncontrolled.

He turned back. Emptied the tube of glue into the first guy’s palms and crushed them together and counted to ten. Chemical handcuffs

♥♥♥ My Guy Nothing you can say, Can take me away, From my guy. Nothing you could do, 'cause I'm stuck like glue, To my guy. I'm sticking to my guy, Like a stamp to a letter, Like birds of a feather, We, stick together, I can tell you from the start, I can't be torn apart from my guy. Nothing you could do, Could make me be untrue, To my guy. (My Guy) Nothing you could buy, Could make me tell a lie, To my guy (My Guy) I gave my guy, My word of honour, To be faithful, And I'm gonna, You'd better be believing, I won't be deceiving, My guy. As a matter of opinion, I think he's tops, My opinion is, He's the cream of the crop, As a matter of taste, To be exact, He's my ideal, As a matter of fact. No muscle bound man, Could take my hand, From my guy. (My guy) No handsome face, Could ever take the place, Of my guy, (My guy) He may not be a movie star, But when it comes to being happy, We are, There's not a man today, Who can take me away, From my guy. No muscle bound man, Could take my hand, From my guy. (My guy) No handsome face, Could ever take the place, Of my guy, (My guy) He may not be a movie star, But when it comes to being happy, We are, There's not a man today, Who can take me away, From my guy. (what'cha say?) There's not a man today, Who could take me away, From my guy. (Tell me more!) There's not a man today, Who could take me away, From my guy.

My Guy Nothing you could say Can tear me away from my guy Nothing you could do 'Cause I'm stuck like glue to my guy I'm stickin' to my guy Like a stamp to a letter Like the birds of a feather We stick together I'm tellin' you from the start I can't be torn apart from my guy Nothing you can do Could make me untrue to my guy Nothing you could buy Could make me tell a lie to my guy I gave my guy my word of honor To be faithful and I'm gonna You best be believing I won't be deceiving my guy As a matter of opinion I think he's tops My opinion is he's the cream of the crop As a matter of taste to be exact He's my ideal as a matter of fact No muscle bound man Could take my hand from my guy No handsome face Could ever take the place of my guy He may not be a movie star But when it comes to being happy we are There's not a man today Who could take me away from my guy No muscle bound man Could take my hand from my guy No handsome face Could ever take the place of my guy He may not be a movie star But when it comes to being happy we are There's not a man today Who could take me away from my guy There's not a man today Who could take me away from my guy (Tell me more) There's not a man today Who could take me away from my guy

The only difference is I figured it out sooner that Les isn’t a one-guy kind of girl; she needs all of us, whether she wants to admit to that or not. But we need her too. She’s the glue holding us all together, keeping us from losing our shit and falling over the edge.

also brought home a set of fly-fishing how-to videotapes. This is the eighties, I reasoned, the age of video. What better way to take up a sport than from a comfortable armchair? That’s where I’m at my best with most sports anyway. There were three tapes. The first one claimed it would teach me to cast. The second would teach me to “advanced cast.” And the third would tell me where trout live, how they spend their weekends, and what they’d order for lunch if there were underwater delicatessens for fish. I started the VCR and a squeaky little guy with an earnest manner and a double-funny hat came on, began heaving fly line around, telling me the secret to making beautiful casting loops is … Whoever made these tapes apparently assumed I knew how to tie backing to reel and line to backing and leader to line and so on all the way out to the little feather and fuzz fish snack at the end. I didn’t know how to put my rod together. I had to go to the children’s section at the public library and check out My Big Book of Fishing and begin with how to open the package it all came in. A triple granny got things started on the spool. After twelve hours and help from pop rivets and a tube of Krazy Glue, I managed an Albright knot between backing and line. But my version of a nail knot in the leader put Mr. Gordian of ancient Greek knot fame strictly on the shelf. It was the size of a hamster and resembled one of the Woolly Bugger flies I’d bought except in the size you use for killer whales. I don’t want to talk about blood knots and tippets. There I was with two pieces of invisible plastic, trying to use fingers the size of a man’s thumb while holding a magnifying glass and a Tensor lamp between my teeth and gripping nasty tangles of monofilament with each big toe. My girlfriend had to come over and cut me out of this with pinking shears. Personally, I’m going to get one of those nine-year-old Persian kids that they use to make incredibly tiny knots in fine Bukhara rugs and just take him with me on all my fishing trips.

It was the first time I looked around at the guys I was with and thinking, ‘I ain’t sure I like you that much …’ I realised they were into rock‘n’roll stardom, climbing the ladder and making money, and I was the only one who seemed to have any punk rock principles. To see the people who had been my closest friends for all these years, the people I’d first sniffed glue with, the people I’d first taken acid with, travelled abroad with, to see them turn into this … this … bull-shit, it was so poor.

I won’t let everything fall apart right now. You chose me, didn’t you, Long Beach? You risked it all for a guy who’s gonna be the glue keeping the pieces together.

I kept wishing Snooky had come back to teach at Kahana. I'd go talk to him. He was the only guy who helped you to see things as they were out there. The others ignored your questions or what they saw out there, or tried to make you see only the things they wanted you to see. He talked of freedom, while everybody else talked of duty and obligation. It was like we were born in a cage and Snooky was coaxing us to fly off, not run away, but be on our own and taste the freedom and danger of the open space... Freedom was freedom from other people's shit, and shit was shit no matter how lovingly it was dished, how high or low it came from. Shit was the glue which held a group together, and I was going to have no part of any shit or any group.

After dinner I text Chris to see if she wants to come over, but she doesn't text back. She's probably out with one of the guys she hooks up my scrapbooking. with. Which is fine. I should catch up on I was hoping to be done with Margot's scrapbook before she left for college, but as anyone who's ever scrapbooked knows, Rome wasn't built in a day. You could spend a year or more working on one scrapbook. I've got Motown girl-group music playing, and my sup plies are laid out all around me in a semicircle. My heart hole punch, pages and pages of scrapbook paper, pictures I've cut out of magazines, glue gun, my tape dispenser with all my different colored washi tapes. Souvenirs like the playbill from when we saw Wicked in New York, receipts, pictures. Ribbon, buttons, stickers, charms. A good scrap book has texture. It's thick and chunky and doesn't close all the way.