Joey Friends Quotes

Haley and I would talk for hours about which member of 'N Sync we'd want to marry. After long deliberation, the answer was always J. C. Chasez. Joey Fatone's last name was going to be “Fat One” no matter how great he was, and even though they didn't know at their age that Lance Bass was gay outright, they sensed he'd make a better good friend and confidante. As for Justin Timberlake, well, JT was the coolest and hottest, but too flashy, so we couldn't trust him to be faithful. J. C. Chasez was the smart compromise.

He always kept his shit together. He was the fucking foam on the latte that rose above all of it. He’d been there for them whenever they needed him, always. He hadn’t let his friends down. But at this moment, he resented the hell out of every one of them.

In the end it never works out. You are who you are, no matter what you pretend at the beginning. So I’m not pretending. I drink to ignore my problems. I spend more time with my computer than with my friends. I am angry and lonely, but I can wash dishes just fine. I’m being honest. Please don’t be an asshole about this.

You’re lucky to have such great friends,” Joey said quietly. “Luck has nothing to do with it, dearie. We decided to become friends and to stay friends, through thick and thin, warts and all.

You feel the puck on your blade and the eyes on your back. You feel the defense closing in and the team on your shoulders. You feel the hopes of your friends Your family-or even an entire city. You feel no pressure.

Chase grabbed Joey’s neck and hauled him into a kiss. Oh shit. Not again. It didn’t matter how many times it had been wrong, he still wanted to believe it. Wanted to believe it when he kissed a guy and everything inside said him. It had been wrong about Mark and Noah and Jorge and Tom and the whole list going right back to kissing Eduardo under the bleachers in tenth grade. Or maybe before. When he’d been three and told his mom he was going to marry his best friend Cody.

Joey was a very intelligent, friendly and outgoing boy, but he had a huge attitude problem and an absolutely big ego. He knew that the new school could be challenging for him, but he also knew that he would make friends easier than anyone else.(Maradonia and the Seven Bridges)

All of the day’s planned tasks are canceled. Bob stays inside Hot Topic for the rest of the day. Left to their own devices, the group huddles together in the communal Old Navy on the first floor. At first, I think they’re holding a memorial service, but then I hear the TV playing. They’re watching DVDs of Friends on a giant, monolithic plasma screen. A citywide blackout forces Monica, Ross, Rachel, Phoebe, and Joey to hang out together. They light candles and talk about the weirdest places they’ve had sex. Phoebe sings a song. I hate Friends but I’ve seen most of the episodes.

trust.” Smiling fondly, she recrossed her ankles, switching them up, and leaned forward in her seat. “He’s your friend, Aoife, and you’re his. Never mind loving one another, that’s the easy part, you and Joey like each other. You enjoy one another’s company, and I can promise you that all of those wonderful aspects of your relationship, all of those effortless conversations you find yourself having with him, or all of the content spells of silence you spend in one another’s company, will only strengthen your ability to stand the test of time. And more crucially, the test of parenthood.

Queen. So, do you have a name, boy-who-can-think-for-himself? You're my favorite friend, with my favorite everything. If I had a packet of Rolos right now, I'd give you my last one. Don't worry, Peter Pan. I'll be your Wendy. It's okay. Just concentrate on us. I love you, Joey Lynch. Ride or die, Joe.

One night the three of us were out on the town. Bill was driving us to an Italian restaurant. I had been on my new job just a few weeks. I was in the backseat and Bill was watching me in the rearview mirror. Bill said to me, “We heard from Jimmy that you paint houses.” I didn’t say anything. I just nodded my head “yes.” Okay, here it is, I thought. So much for getting away from the downtown culture and getting into a new line of work. “We got something in Chicago that needs to be straightened out. We got a friend there named Joey Glimco. He runs the cab local there, 777. He’s got the trucks on the waterfront, too. Ever heard of him?” I

Joey was waiting in his grandmother’s living room, next to the wall of family pictures. “Everyone here loves you so much,” he said quietly, as I continued to hyperventilate, tears streaming down my cheeks. “And they have good reason. You’re wonderful, and no one’s ever made me feel more at home than you have. I want to be your home, and I want to do it forever. I want you to be my family. Will you marry me?” He got on one knee and opened the velvet box; in it was a beautiful ring I’d lusted after with my best friends. I yelled, “Oh my God, Joey, NO! That’s a diamond! This must have been so expensive! You should have gotten a cubic zirconia!” But also, I said yes.

I have not thought of that boy—Joey—for many years; but I see him quite clearly tonight. It was several years ago. I was still in my teens, he was about my age, give or take a year. He was a very nice boy, too, very quick and dark, and always laughing. For a while he was my best friend. Later, the idea that such a person could have been my best friend was proof of some horrifying taint in me. So I forgot him. But I see him very well tonight.

Joey was waiting in his grandmother’s living room, next to the wall of family pictures. “Everyone here loves you so much,” he said quietly, as I continued to hyperventilate, tears streaming down my cheeks. “And they have good reason. You’re wonderful, and no one’s ever made me feel more at home than you have. I want to be your home, and I want to do it forever. I want you to be my family. Will you marry me?” He got on one knee and opened the velvet box; in it was a beautiful ring I’d lusted after with my best friends.

It shouldn't make any difference, but Friday and Saturday nights are the worst. They're the worst because the loneliness is magnified. The best you can do is hope that there is someone else like you out there, but if there is, you will never meet this person because she doesn't get out either. So, you're left with your thoughts, and your thoughts are living people in your brain who call and hang up and lounge around like armed security guards who happen to be beautiful. In between these thoughts, you think about what's going on out there. The girl of your dreams is being ravaged by a man who doesn't have a care in the world. Just to hear her voice would make you happy for a week, but he gets to spend the day and night with her and thinks nothing of it. (…), there are boyfriends and girlfriends, people in love, wide awake. They hang out. They hang out. They hang out. They do nothing worthwhile except each other. Friends, friends, friends. Fiends. Inside jokes. There are so many stupid conversations going on right now. You could be having a meaningful conversation with a taxi driver. You could talk to him about how Travis Bickle's taxi was a metaphor for loneliness. (…) You have a gray tint on your contact lenses. But you have your work. They don't have that. They are cowards. Everyone seems so afraid to be alone. It takes strength to lie there alone and take it. They just want to copulate, and that's their biggest concern of the night. You want a tragedy. An assassination. A massacre. An earthquake. A city falling to the ground. Something to get the people on TV to be on the same page as you.

be apart. Despite getting rejected by my top-choice school, I was starting to really believe in myself again based on all the positive feedback we continued to get on our videos. And besides, I knew I could always reapply to Emerson the following year and transfer. • • • College started out great, with the best part being my newly found freedom. I was finally on my own and able to make my own schedule. And not only was Amanda with me, I’d already made a new friend before the first day of classes from a Facebook page that was set up for incoming freshmen. I started chatting with a pretty girl named Chloe who mentioned that she was also going to do the film and video concentration. Fitchburg isn’t located in the greatest neighborhood, but the campus has lots of green lawns and old brick buildings that look like mansions. My dorm room was a forced triple—basically a double that the school added bunk beds to in order to squeeze one extra person in. I arrived first and got to call dibs on the bunk bed that had an empty space beneath it. I moved my desk under it and created a little home office for myself. I plastered the walls with Futurama posters and made up the bed with a new bright green comforter and matching pillows. My roommates were classic male college stereotypes—the football player and the stoner. Their idea of decorating was slapping a Bob Marley poster and a giant ad for Jack Daniels on the wall.

My first instinct was to just delete the bug. Remove my terrible code from the system entirely. Briefly, ancient plans resurfaced: carbon monoxide and sleeping pills. But that would have its ramifications, too. My previous efforts to heal might not have fixed me, but they had woven me into this world, sewing me emotionally and professionally into a network of lives. I had friends who cared dearly about me, mentees who looked up to me. And Joey, of course. If I cut myself out of the web, I would leave a gaping hole that would hurt all those around me. And the whole point of this endeavor was to stop hurting people. I guess I had to embrace the impossible. Goddamn it, what a task: I had to fight against fate itself.

Joey glanced at his alarm clock and saw it was just before midnight. His eyes drifted to his bookshelf. Lined up in a row, in the order of their publication, were all of the Spook Boys books, a series of kids’ books about two adventurous brothers who were constantly getting into mischief as they explored haunted houses and spooky old castles, or tried to solve mysteries involving missing diamonds or stolen paintings. Joey envied the characters in those books—he wanted his own life to be made up of such exciting, implausible adventures. But maybe his imagination had gotten carried away. Maybe his mind, saturated with such fictional tales, was more than willing to play tricks on him when it came to houses like the one on Creep Street.

The trick to being a rebel at Liberty, I’ve learned, is knowing which parts of the Liberty social code are non-negotiable. For example, Joey and his friends listen to vulgarity-filled secular hip-hop, but you’ll never catch them defending homosexuality. (On the contrary, Joey’s insults of choice are “queer” and “gaywad.”) And although they might harass the naïve pastors’ kids on the hall by stealing their towels from the shower stalls—leaving them naked, wet, and stranded—they’d be the first people to tell you why Mormonism is a false religion. In other words, Liberty’s true social code, the one they don’t put in a forty-six-page manual, has everything to do with being a social and religious conservative and not a whole lot to do with acting in any traditionally virtuous way.

When I woke up, Cat had already left but there was a text from Mike, asking me if I wanted to meet him in the lobby for breakfast. I felt gross and hungover, not to mention all of the butterflies in my stomach from the thought of just being near him, so I wasn’t sure I could handle keeping up a conversation all by myself. I wrote back Sure and then immediately texted Whitney and asked her to meet us so I wouldn’t have to be alone with him. When I arrived, they were bright and awake and alert, and I felt like a total zombie next to them. They teased me about my constant groaning about how sick I felt. But the truth was that my stomach butterflies were brought on more by how strange I felt around Mike. He seemed totally fine, like nothing had happened last night, but I kept stealing glances at him and thinking, You were my first kiss! In the light of day, it was hard for me to fully accept, because even though I was finally able to talk about my feelings with my friends and Nicole, I was still partially removed from that part of myself. We

Chip asked me about New York and what I wanted to do, and how long my dad had owned the shop, and what it was I loved about Waco. He asked about my sisters and my family in general, and what I’d done at Baylor, and if I’d known a few communications majors he’d run around with at school. (I told y’all he was chatty!) Somehow none of these questions seemed intrusive or strange to me at the time, which is funny, because thinking back I find them particularly telling. At the time, it was just like talking with an old friend. John finally stood up, and this baseball-cap-wearing customer that John had introduced as Chip followed. “Well, nice talking to you,” he said. “Nice talking to you too,” I replied, and that was it. I went back inside. The guys in the shop wanted to know what I thought about Hot John, and I just laughed. “Sorry, guys, I don’t think it’s gonna work out.” The next day I came back from my lunch break to find a note on my desk: “Chip Gaines called. Call him back.” I thought, Oh, that must be the guy I met yesterday. So I called him. I honestly thought he was going to ask me about getting a better price on his brakes or something, but instead he said, “Hey, I really enjoyed our conversation yesterday. I was wondering…you want to go out sometime?” And for some reason I said okay--just like that, without any hesitation. It wasn’t like me at all. When I hung up the phone, I went, “What in the world just happened!” So you said okay immediately? I don’t even remember that. That’s fun! No reservations? Man, I must’ve been good-lookin’. What Chip didn’t know was I didn’t even give myself time to have reservations. Something told me to just go for it. Cute, Joey. This story makes me love you all over again.

Okay, fine. You wanna know? You really think you wanna know? Well, here it is. First of all, I have an abandonment complex. Obviously. My mom left. My dad. Then everyone else.” “Yeah, I got some friends in similar situations. It’s really tough. I hope you understand that none of those losses were about you, though.” “Sure, whatever. And I need constant reassurance. I’m really insecure. And I have a really hard time trusting anyone. And I sometimes get really involved in work.” I went on for what seemed like forever, laying out all of my greatest shames, the things that I hoped I could hide for another few months, at least. He remained terrifyingly poker-faced the whole time, and I guessed he’d tricked me into digging my own grave. At the end, he absorbed my failings in silence for a minute and then nodded. “Okay. Is that it? Yeah, sure.” “What do you mean, ‘Yeah, sure’?” “I mean sure, that’s doable.” “How do you know? Maybe it’s not.” “I don’t know, there’s a lot of trauma and abandonment and anger around here. Your issues are solidly within my wheelhouse. Thanks for telling me. It’s good to know, and I think we can make it work.” “But maybe you’ll get tired of it. I mean, I’ll still work on my shit. I promise.” “Sure, and I’m glad for that, thank you,” he shrugged. “But, you know, it’s okay to have some things you never get over.” It’s okay to have some things you never get over. In the span of half an hour, this man whom I had known for less than a season did what nobody in my life ever had: He took all of my sins and simply forgave them. He didn’t demand relentless improvement. There were no ultimatums. He asserted that I was enough, as is. The gravity of it stunned me into silence. Joey was the opposite of the dread.

The refusal of religious conservatives to acknowledge established scientific evidence reminds me of a movie, A Guide for the Married Man, with a scene acted by comedian Joey Bishop. Bishop’s wife catches him in bed with another woman. Both Bishop and his lady friend get out of bed and get dressed, while Bishop keeps denying what his wife is witnessing. “What woman? What bed? What are you talking about?” he says as he strolls into the living room, sits down, and begins reading a newspaper in front of his bewildered wife, who then closes the door behind the departing other woman. “I don’t know what you are talking about,” he says in reply to her befuddled protests. “I’ve been sitting here this whole time, reading, and waiting for you to make dinner.” She eventually stops believing her own eyes and goes off to make dinner. It worked for Bishop and it works for the religious science deniers. Keep denying what is known and repeating what is false, and soon, because it is easier, your listeners will lose their conviction because they will get tired of having to refute you so much. The deniers win because the less the listener has to argue, the happier they’ll be—and the more they can be manipulated because they have to pay more attention to earning a living so that they can put food on the table.

She was just so adorable I wanted to break her. It was some weird mix of my affection for Joey and my obsession with this fey girl-creature that brought out a kind of violence in me.

I was having fantasies of bending Joey over and spanking his bare ass till he cried, of pushing him down to his knees and shoving his pretty face in my pussy.

THE PHOENIX PACK: Trey Coleman Alpha Taryn Warner Alpha Dante Beta Tao Head Enforcer Dominic Enforcer Marcus Enforcer Patrick “Trick” Enforcer Ryan Enforcer Greta Trey’s grandmother Grace Mated to Rhett Rhett Mated to Grace Lydia Mated to Cam Cam Mated to Lydia Kirk Brock’s son Selma Subordinate Brock Kirk’s father Hope Subordinate Louisa Trey’s mother, deceased NOTABLE CHARACTERS FROM THE ONYX PACK: Lance Warner Alpha, father of Taryn Cecilia Warner Mother of Taryn, deceased Shaya Critchley Friend of Taryn Caleb Friend of Taryn Perry Enforcer Oscar Enforcer Joseph “Joey” Winters Died when only nine, believed to be Taryn’s mate Brodie Nicole Ashley Richie NOTABLE CHARACTERS FROM THE BJORN PACK: Rick Coleman Previous Alpha, father of Trey, deceased Darryl Coleman New Alpha, uncle of Trey Josh Brother of Dante Summer Died as a baby, believed to be Trey’s mate Viv Mother of Summer Martin NOTABLE CHARACTERS FROM THE RYLAND PACK: Nick Axton Alpha Don Uncle of Taryn Derren Nick’s bodyguard Glory OTHER CHARACTERS: Roscoe Weston Alpha wolf shifter who attempts to claim Taryn Dean Milton Mediator

Water suddenly remembered their prior visit and questioned, “What was I saying when you left so abruptly? Oh yes, I was telling you that I was alive and sentient. I was going to explain to you that everything is alive. Everything is connected: you, me, the trees, the plants, the soil, and the rocks. Everything! Do you know how much of you is made up of me?

And Joey loved the sound of the water flowing in the stream. He liked to listen to the water gurgle over the stones and the loud splash of the waterfall. He enjoyed lying on his back and looking up at the sky through the leaves on the trees. It was so nice to lie in the cool shade on a hot summer’s day listening to the bees buzzing and the birds singing. It was beautiful.

Joey was quiet as he listened. He didn’t know what to think or say. First, he still couldn’t get over the fact that Water was talking to him. And, if what Water was telling him was true, it was amazing!

Sure, you can also list your awards, what software you know, and your college degrees on your About page, but your photo and the friendly paragraph you write about yourself are much more important.

You love his sister, and I love his sister’s best friend,” Gibsie replied, scrubbing Joey down with a sponge. “It’s safe to say that pussy got us into this, Kav.

She looked up, hoping to see Hiram Caro. She was disappointed. Hiram didn’t walk through the door. Instead, his personal bodyguard stalked in. Joey Roman. CHAPTER 90 JOEY ROMAN closed the office door and locked it. Then he leaned against the door, folded his arms across his chest, and gazed down at Jenny. Roman’s attire distinguished him from the other security personnel. He was dressed in a slim-fit sport coat over a crisp white shirt paired with indigo jeans. Joey didn’t need to wear a security uniform or badge to give off a dangerous vibe. She knew he wanted to intimidate her. Locking her into a room with three men and blocking the door so she couldn’t get out—it was an act of aggression. Jenny was determined to send a message right back: I’m not scared of you. She gave Roman a side-eye before returning her attention to the advertising brochure. Reading aloud, she murmured, “‘Loosest slots and hottest table games in Biloxi.’ Wow. Impressive.” Silence in the room. She counted to ten before she spoke again. “Is Hiram on his way down?” Roman sounded almost friendly when he said, “Mr. Caro’s not available. What do you want? I can pass along the message.” Jenny’s impatience gave her voice a sharp edge. “I don’t want to go through the messenger boy, Joey.” The two young security guys tensed up and exchanged a look of surprise. Jenny noted their reaction. She figured it meant that Joey Roman was rarely disrespected on casino property. She would have to proceed more cautiously. She forced a smile. “Joey, you know I’m a private

I need something to distract me so I switch it on and flick through the channels until I find some old reruns of Friends. My mom loved this show, and we used to watch it with her all the time. It’s like chicken soup TV and despite my circumstances, I smile as Chandler and Joey ride into Monica and Rachel’s apartment on that hideous white dog.

It’s a great place, baby. A great neighbourhood. It’s got a huge garden,” he says, nodding to the right. “There’s a two-bed guesthouse in the garden, which is where Stuart will live.” “Stuart’s not going to live with us anymore?” I pout. “Well, we talked, baby, and we decided it was time he move out and get his own place. He’s all grown up, ready to face the world. We have to let him go sometime. We can’t keep him forever.” Jake gives me a grave look, clearly taking the piss. “You’re an idiot.” “Takes one to know one.” “That it does.” I smile warmly. He rubs his nose against mine, Eskimo-style. “I just thought it would be good to have our privacy, and Stuart gets his too. Also, I no longer have to run the risk of catching him making out with a dude.” “You love it really.” “What? Catching Stuart making out with a guy?” Pressing my lips together, suppressing a smile, I nod. “Sweetheart, nothing could kill my hard-on quicker, believe me. I like the person I’m with to be soft and warm.” He runs his fingertips down my bare arm. “I want her made to fit around me.” “Like me?” I scratch my fingernails over the denim covering his pert behind. “Exactly like you.” Jake bends his head down to mine and kisses me softly. “Will you miss him?” “Are we still talking about Stuart?” “I’m just worried he’ll think my being here is pushing him out.” “Sweetheart, he works for me, and it’s not like he’s going far.” “I know he works for you, but he’s your friend too. You guys have lived together for such a long time. You’re like Joey and Chandler. Except you’d probably have been Joey, and Chandler was never gay. Oh God, would that make me Monica or Rachel?” “What the fuck are you talking about?” He laughs. “Friends.” “I’m gonna have to watch this show, aren’t I, just so I can figure out what the fuck you’re talking about half the time.” “Yes, Pervy Perverson, you are. Honestly, I have no clue how you haven’t. I’ll buy the first season on Blu-ray and we can watch it together.” “Can’t wait.” “Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, Wethers

Watch him, he’s dangerous.’ ‘He’s lying,’ said Frederic, stepping closer. ‘I need you to stop,’ warned Etienne, keeping his gun trained on Frederic while he took out his radio with his other hand. ‘Don’t do that,’ warned Frederic, coming even closer. ‘Stop!’ Frederic’s demeanor changed. He was wired, and Pierre saw that he had begun to shake. He would not be able to control himself for much longer. Etienne pressed the radio’s talk button. ‘I need assistance.’ ‘Coming in, over, is that you, Etienne?’ ‘Yes, I —’ Chapter 54 Before the officer could say another word, Frederic lashed out with his right hand. He had retrieved his pistol that was wedged in his back belt and fired off a single bullet with perfect precision, right between the young officer’s brown eyes. The policeman’s body fell backwards, hands flailing as they hit the ground, his radio and pistol skittering away across the marble floor. He’d been killed instantly and now lay still, eyes wide open. Frederic turned his angry gaze on Pierre. ‘I’m so sorry, Frederic,’ said Pierre, back-pedaling. ‘I had no choice, you have to understand that.’ ‘No, boss, you always have a choice,’ said Frederic with a sigh. ‘You just picked the wrong one.’ Frederic trained his weapon on his longtime friend, his hand now rock-steady. ‘So it seems you will never get to see the inside of Alexander the Great’s tomb after all.’ ‘No, Frederic, don’t be stupid. I made a mistake.’ ‘Yes, you did,’ replied Frederic, and with no remorse emptied his gun’s chamber.

I flew back to the States in December of 1992 with conflicting emotions. I was excited to see my family and friends. But I was sad to be away from Steve. Part of the problem was that the process didn’t seem to make any sense. First I had to show up in the States and prove I was actually present, or I would never be allowed to immigrate back to Australia. And, oh yeah, the person to whom I had to prove my presence was not, at the moment, present herself. Checks for processing fees went missing, as did passport photos, certain signed documents. I had to obtain another set of medical exams, blood work, tuberculosis tests, and police record checks--and in response, I got lots of “maybe’s” and “come back tomorrow’s.” It would have been funny, in a surreal sort of way, if I had not been missing Steve so much. This was when we should have still been in our honeymoon days, not torn apart. A month stretched into six weeks. Steve and I tried keeping our love alive through long-distance calls, but I realized that Steve informing me over the phone that “our largest reticulated python died” or “the lace monitors are laying eggs” was no substitute for being with him. It was frustrating. There was no point in sitting still and waiting, so I went back to work with the flagging business. When my visa finally came, it had been nearly two months, and it felt like Christmas morning. That night we had a good-bye party at the restaurant my sister owned, and my whole family came. Some brought homemade cookies, others brought presents, and we had a celebration. Although I knew I would miss everyone, I was ready to go home. Home didn’t mean Oregon to me anymore. It meant, simply, by Steve’s side. When I arrived back at the zoo, we fell in love all over again. Steve and I were inseparable. Our nights were filled with celebrating our reunion. The days were filled with running the zoo together, full speed ahead. Crowds were coming in bigger than ever before. We enjoyed yet another record-breaking day for attendance. Rehab animals poured in too: joey kangaroos, a lizard with two broken legs, an eagle knocked out by poison. My heart was full. It felt good to be back at work. I had missed my animal friends--the kangaroos, cassowaries, and crocodiles.

When my visa finally came, it had been nearly two months, and it felt like Christmas morning. That night we had a good-bye party at the restaurant my sister owned, and my whole family came. Some brought homemade cookies, others brought presents, and we had a celebration. Although I knew I would miss everyone, I was ready to go home. Home didn’t mean Oregon to me anymore. It meant, simply, by Steve’s side. When I arrived back at the zoo, we fell in love all over again. Steve and I were inseparable. Our nights were filled with celebrating our reunion. The days were filled with running the zoo together, full speed ahead. Crowds were coming in bigger than ever before. We enjoyed yet another record-breaking day for attendance. Rehab animals poured in too: joey kangaroos, a lizard with two broken legs, an eagle knocked out by poison. My heart was full. It felt good to be back at work. I had missed my animal friends--the kangaroos, cassowaries, and crocodiles.

They listened to her description of Joey’s early life. It took her an hour to talk them through that, his troubles at school and his damning reputation on the estate, which she dismissed as neighbours’ spite. She dwelt on his reliability, his help around the house and with the kids, his sense of humour, his quick wits… ‘Allow me to stop you there for one moment,’ interrupted Formby-Hart, who had appeared to be dozing. ‘You seem to be describing the sort of boy that I for one have never met. Who is this lad, this little darling who is constantly misrepresented by teachers and neighbours? Even his friends find some of his actions alarming.

I saw it on a rerun of Friends, when Joey wore Chandler’s clothes and did lunges while goin’ commando. Did I say it wrong?

I'll Be There For You" These words are etched on our hearts. but they're so much more than just words, they're a complete emotion. But it's all just an illusion, a utopia, for which we long. we trade in drinking coffee on a couch, with drinking at a bar. we utter more words to Alexa and Siri, than to people face to face. we can never have six people in one room without anyone looking at their phones. we trade in memories with pictures. we actively look for reasons to not be around people. a Chandler is considered too mean and sarcastic, Ross has too much baggage, who has the energy to deal with that. Phoebe is too quirky to handle. Rachel, that spoilt and entitled bitch. no way. Joey is the fuck boy that will cause you nothing but pain, and Monica with her OCD, that's way too high maintenance. no, we don't say these things when we watch the show, we say these about people around us who bear similar characteristics. we adore these characters, we envy their friendship, their bond, their love. we long for nothing else, yet when confronted with them in real life, we belittle, avoid, cut-off, ignore. we don't want to disturb the utopia, are terrified of bursting the bubble, because if we start recognizing the flaws in our fantasies, we'll be forced to recognize our own. we love to live an à la carte life, wherein we pick and choose the qualities and personalities of a person that we wish to see, and the ones that may simply be brushed away. Generation after generation, will watch that show and call it their utopia, and each will give up hope of ever attaining that, alas! It was a different time! what we long for doesn't require a time machine to achieve, it doesn't need for mobile phones to not exist, or for less bars to exist, or to live away from your parents. it's only as complicated as we try to make it, when it can be as simple as, "I'll be there for you, 'cause you're there for me too

I'll Be There For You These words are etched on our hearts. but they're so much more than just words, they're a complete emotion. But it's all just an illusion, a utopia, for which we long. we trade in drinking coffee on a couch, with drinking at a bar. we utter more words to Alexa and Siri, than to people face to face. we can never have six people in one room without anyone looking at their phones. we trade in memories with pictures. we actively look for reasons to not be around people. a Chandler is considered too mean and sarcastic, Ross has too much baggage, who has the energy to deal with that. Phoebe is too quirky to handle. Rachel, that spoilt and entitled bitch. no way. Joey is the fuck boy that will cause you nothing but pain, and Monica with her OCD, that's way too high maintenance. no, we don't say these things when we watch the show, we say these about people around us who bear similar characteristics. we adore these characters, we envy their friendship, their bond, their love. we long for nothing else, yet when confronted with them in real life, we belittle, avoid, cut-off, ignore. we don't want to disturb the utopia, are terrified of bursting the bubble, because if we start recognizing the flaws in our fantasies, we'll be forced to recognize our own. we love to live an à la carte life, wherein we pick and choose the qualities and personalities of a person that we wish to see, and the ones that may simply be brushed away. Generation after generation, will watch that show and call it their utopia, and each will give up hope of ever attaining that, alas! It was a different time! what we long for doesn't require a time machine to achieve, it doesn't need for mobile phones to not exist, or for less bars to exist, or to live away from your parents. it's only as complicated as we try to make it, when it can be as simple as, "I'll be there for you, 'cause you're there for me too

I'll Be There For You These words are etched on our hearts. but they're so much more than just words, they're a complete emotion. But it's all just an illusion, a utopia, for which we long. we trade in drinking coffee on a couch, with drinking at a bar. we utter more words to Alexa and Siri, than to people face to face. we can never have six people in one room without anyone looking at their phones. we trade in memories with pictures. we actively look for reasons to not be around people. a Chandler is considered too mean and sarcastic, Ross has too much baggage, who has the energy to deal with that. Phoebe is too quirky to handle. Rachel, that spoilt and entitled bitch. no way. Joey is the fuck boy that will cause you nothing but pain, and Monica with her OCD, that's way too high maintenance. no, we don't say these things when we watch the show, we say these about people around us who bear similar characteristics. we adore these characters, we envy their friendship, their bond, their love. we long for nothing else, yet when confronted with them in real life, we belittle, avoid, cut-off, ignore. we don't want to disturb the utopia, are terrified of bursting the bubble, because if we start recognizing the flaws in our fantasies, we'll be forced to recognize our own. we love to live an à la carte life, wherein we pick and choose the qualities and personalities of a person that we wish to see, and the ones that may simply be brushed away. Generation after generation, will watch that show and call it their utopia, and each will give up hope of ever attaining that, alas! It was a different time! what we long for doesn't require a time machine to achieve, it doesn't need for mobile phones to not exist, or for less bars to exist, or to live away from your parents. it's only as complicated as we try to make it, when it can be as simple as, I'll be there for you, 'cause you're there for me too

Joke: What do you call a messy baby kangaroo? Answer: A Sloppy Joey :)

Joey was fed, clean, growing, and cared for. She didn’t need more than she had, but I roamed my broken house for hours while she slept, racked with guilt over bringing her into the situation and terrified of what would happen if I couldn’t fix it soon. I was completely on my own in finding a solution. Liam, my best friend for years, partner, father of my child, had ghosted me. He hadn’t responded to Joey’s birth announcement. Not even a “she’s so cute.” And when I’d texted him about the money he’d stolen from me—I’d finally accepted that was what he’d done—he blocked me. Not just my number but every social media. Liam wasn’t coming back. Not ever. This was my problem to solve.

Thank you,” I rasped, my throat clogged with emotion. “She gets a little fussy in the evening. I haven’t been able to eat dinner with both hands in a long time.” Supporting the back of her head in his wide palm, he held her on his arm so he could peer down at her. “You don’t look fussy to me,” he said to Joey in his usual tone. “You do move a lot, though. I remember you in your mom’s tummy. You were rolling like an alligator.” She kicked her legs and stared up at him like she did her best friend, the ceiling fan. Her big milk-chocolate eyes were fascinated, locked on Elliot and hardly blinking. I swallowed my bite of garlic bread and wiped my mouth. “You’re good at holding babies. Have you been around many?” “This is my first one.” He dragged his fingertip along her cheek. “I did some reading on the subject.

Well, you all would have been too young to remember, but Chanel’s father, Marshall, used to be good friends with Joey and Dame. That is, before you all moved out of the Grove,” Demi’s mother said. Joey and Dame looked at each other, agreeing. Interesting.