Kinda Like Brothers Quotes

As I was saying...They train these girls to be like tiny ninjas. They have to earn special badges for the survival skills that they learn, kinda like how we teach the cadets. Now to balance out all the weapons training and harshness of wilderness survival, they also teach them to bake cookies.

All right, see,” Wayne said, “I’ve got it figured out. I’m gonna be a rich fellow. Made loads off of the sweat and blood o’ lesser men. Only I won’t say it like that, ’cuz I’ll be in character, you see.” “Is that so?” Marasi said, starting up the steps. “Yup,” Wayne said, joining her. “Even brought me fancy hat.” He held up a top hat and spun it on his finger. “That hat belongs to Waxillium.” “No it don’t,” Wayne said, putting it on. “I gave ’im a rat for it.” “A … rat?” “Minus the tail,” Wayne said. “On account of this hat bein’ kinda dusty when I took it. Anyway, I’ll be the rich fellow. You be my younger brother’s daughter.

Now for positivity. The Greatest Generation freed our Jewish brothers and sisters from horrors we can not even imagine. All we are asked to do is stay home. Kinda put things into prospective. Now for me to be blunt. This is a pandemic. It's going to get a lot worse. BUT know this. It does get better. SO do you part. Stay in. Order take away. DO TIP!!! Do you! Listen a great song, watch some comedy, listen to a podcast. Just take this seriously and you likely will live!

Subject: Some boat Alex, I know Fox Mulder. My mom watched The X-Files. She says it was because she liked the creepy store lines. I think she liked David Duchovny. She tried Californication, but I don't think her heart was in it. I think she was just sticking it to my grandmother, who has decided it's the work of the devil. She says that about most current music,too, but God help anyone who gets between her and American Idol. The fuzzy whale was very nice, it a little hard to identify. The profile of the guy between you and the whale in the third pic was very familiar, if a little fuzzy. I won't ask. No,no. I have to ask. I won't ask. My mother loves his wife's suits. I Googled. There are sharks off the coast of the Vineyard. Great big white ones. I believe you about the turtle. Did I mention that there are sharks there? I go to Surf City for a week every summer with my cousins. I eat too much ice cream. I play miniature golf-badly. I don't complain about sand in my hot dog buns or sheets. I even spend enough time on the beach to get sand in more uncomfortable places. I do not swim. I mean, I could if I wanted to but I figure that if we were meant to share the water with sharks, we would have a few extra rows of teeth, too. I'll save you some cannoli. -Ella Subject: Shh Fiorella, Yes,Fiorella. I looked it up. It means Flower. Which, when paired with MArino, means Flower of the Sea. What shark would dare to touch you? I won't touch the uncomfortable sand mention, hard as it is to resist. I also will not think of you in a bikini (Note to self: Do not think of Ella in a bikini under any circumstanes. Note from self: Are you f-ing kidding me?). Okay. Two pieces of info for you. One: Our host has an excellent wine cellar and my mother is European. Meaning she doesn't begrudge me the occasional glass. Or four. Two: Our hostess says to thank yur mother very much. Most people say nasty things about her suits. Three: We have a house kinda near Surf City. Maybe I'll be there when your there. You'd better burn this after reading. -Alexai Subect: Happy Thanksgiving Alexei, Consider it burned. Don't worry. I'm not showing your e-mails to anybody. Matter of national security, of course. Well,I got to sit at the adult table. In between my great-great-aunt Jo, who is ninety-three and deaf, and her daughter, JoJo, who had to repeat everyone's conversations across me. Loudly. The food was great,even my uncle Ricky's cranberry lasagna. In fact, it would have been a perfectly good TG if the Eagles han't been playing the Jets.My cousin Joey (other side of the family) lives in Hoboken. His sister married a Philly guy. It started out as a lively across-the-table debate: Jets v. Iggles. It ended up with Joey flinging himself across the table at his brother-in-law and my grandmother saying loud prayers to Saint Bridget. At least I think it was Saint Bridget. Hard to tell. She was speaking Italian. She caught me trying to freeze a half-dozen cannoli. She yelled at me. Apparently, the shells get really soggy when they defrost. I guess you'll have to come have a fresh one when you get back. -F/E

Things I know about Mr. Forkle His official name (for this identity, at least) is Mr. Errol L. Forkle, which he apparently chose because the initials spell out “elf,” and because the word “Forkle” can sometimes mean “disguise” in Norwegian. (I guess he used to spend a lot of time in Norway—no idea why.) The L stands for Loki, because he was kinda the source of some of the Loki myths—which is way too weird to think about. He claims he’s not my biological father (despite being listed that way on certain documents). Even if that’s true, he still helped create me. And he knows who my biological father is. And he refuses to tell me. He’s a super powerful Telepath. He loves to start sentences with “you kids.” He eats a lot of ruckleberries to disguise what he really looks like. He lies sometimes. Maybe all the time. Who knows? He was my annoying next-door neighbor in San Diego, always sitting in his yard rearranging his lawn gnomes (and apparently the gnomes were one of the ways he passed along messages to the Black Swan). He’s the one who triggered my abilities. And the one who stole my missing memories. And the one who planted the information in my brain. He also rescued me from the Neverseen after they kidnapped me. And probably a bunch of other stuff I don’t know about yet. He’s Magnate Leto. Also Sir Astin. I’m sure he has other identities too. I just haven’t figured out what they are yet. And… he secretly had an identical twin. Only one of them was registered (their parents didn’t want them to face the scorn of being a “multiple birth”), and they were sharing one life and switching places all the time. Sometimes I was talking to one brother, and sometimes I was talking to the other—or I was, until one of them died right in front of me in Lumenaria. I thought he was gone, but… then Granite brought us to Brumevale, and… there was the other Forkle. I still don’t really know how to process it. But I’m glad he’s still here, even if he’s a little more limited now that he can’t be two places at once. We planted a Wanderling for the Forkle-twin we lost near Trolltunga in Norway. The tree looks like it’s leaning a bit, waiting for its brother—but I’m selfishly hoping it grows alone for a really long time. Maybe forever.

Actually, I think you sound more Southern than me." "I blame my Mama for that, too," he replied. "She was an old-time rodeo queen from Amarillo, Texas. She homeschooled me and my brother Dirk until high school, so the Texas twang kinda stuck. Now as for Georgia, I find it a real shame you'd want to get rid of it. I find a woman with a soft Southern drawl incredibly sexy." "Tell you what, when I decide I want to be sexy for you, I'll be sure to turn it on full force." She was a real firecracker, this Georgia girl. He liked that. He answered her with a grin. "I'll look forward to it." "In your dreams, cowboy," he thought he heard her mutter under her breath. He cocked his head, "What was that?" "Coffee?" She smiled wide. "If I recall, you promised me Starbucks.

Tuesday Another good thing about going to camp is that I don’t have to be around my little brother for three weeks. Don’t get me wrong. I love my little brother. I just don’t like him very much. I mean he’s cute and fun sometimes, but most of the time he’s so annoying. He always takes my stuff, and then he breaks it.  When we play video games, Mom always makes me play the games he likes. And he also gets away with everything. Like when we get into a fight, Mom and Dad always take his side. They say that I should be nicer to him because he’s only four years old, but I know the truth. I know that he’s possessed by the spirit of a sixteen year old human demon, and only I can see it. But the part I hate the most about my little brother is that before he was born my Mom and Dad gave me all of their attention. Now, they give him all of the attention. Sometimes I don’t mind, because I don’t want my parent’s attention all of the time. But when I do want their attention, they’re either busy working or playing with my little brother. It’s kinda lonely sometimes. So, I guess three weeks away from my little brother is worth going to camp. Even if I am entering into a war of epic proportions. Hmmm. Maybe I should take my little brother with me and use him as a zombie shield? Naah, he’s too small. I’ll probably still get eaten. I could use him as ammo for my zombie catapult though…

I’m thinking deep thoughts like, ‘Hey if Gracie decides she wants to play softball, then she’s gonna have to dream a lot smaller than the little boys playing the same fucking sport on the field right next door.’ And that kinda sucks, if you stop and think about it.” I

I’m throwing a dinner party at my house, and you’re coming over.” “I am, huh? I kinda like it when you tell me what to do. For such a pretty boy, you sure can play butch.” He took a pen from the pen cup and wrote an address on a Post-it Note. “This is the house I live in with my brother. I just want to prepare you ahead of time, before you see the place. I do okay as a dentist, but my brother’s the one who put up the down payment. He’s a software engineer. He sold a few apps.” Megan checked the address and nodded. “He sold more than a few apps,” she said. “When you meet him, you should pretend that sort of thing impresses you, and that you think he’s cooler than me. I’ll know you’re faking it, of course, but he could use the self-esteem boost. The dinner party is in honor of his birthday. He’s turning the big three-oh, and he’s not very happy about getting older.” “Can I sit on his lap and sing him Happy Birthday?” “Seven o’clock,” he said. “Don’t bring any food or wine.” “Are you trying to use reverse psychology on me?” “Not at all,” he said. “My brother always gets enough food and wine to feed an army. All you need to bring is your gorgeous self.” “And I will. Wearing nothing but a trench coat,” she said. “Please wear clothes.

You busted us for smoking weed and skateboarding in an empty pool. Don't try to fucking scare me!" "Rory," Jandro hissed under his breath. "What?" "Ever think shutting your damn mouth might be a good idea?" "We're minors, Dro. They can't do shit to us." "Unless they want to try us as adults," he kept whispering. "In case you haven't noticed, we're close to the border and I'm kinda brown." I bit the inside of my cheek. Fuck, I hadn't even though of that. Jandro was like a brother to me. It hadn't occurred to me that he might have a completely different experience when it came to cops.

Problem was, Brother Brown kinda lost his grip and I sunk right to he bottom. I didn't know I was supposed to come right back up, so I just floated on down the river a ways, blowin bubbles and lookin up through the milky water at the clouds goin by. Aunt Etha told me afterward that the congregation panicked and charged into the river. They was still splashin around and callin my name when I popped up downriver like a bobber on a fishin line, a few shades paler and fulla the Holy Ghost!

So she’s the lucky winner tonight?” he asked after a few minutes of silent driving. “Excuse me?” “Kinda surprised you’re not more upset about it.” “Well, I kinda want to know what I’m supposed to be upset about.” I crossed my arms under my chest and turned so my back was resting against the door so I could look at him more easily. What is his problem? I made the douche bag pancakes two days ago! And I told him all about Blake this morning. That was hard for me; now he’s going to treat me like this? “I got the job, by the way, in case you were wondering.” He shook his head and rested his forearms on the steering wheel while he waited for the light to turn green. “Knew you would, and Rod called me this afternoon so I already knew that you did. You start tomorrow night?” “Mmm-hmm. Are you going to tell me why I’m supposed to be upset?” “Because that guy is taking Candice home tonight instead of you.” My head jerked back and I could only imagine the disgust dripping from my expression. “Ew! What?!” Kash looked quickly between the road and me a couple of times. “That guy. I saw you launch yourself at him earlier. He kept kissing your cheek, and now he’s taking Candice back to his place.” I slammed my fist over my mouth and swallowed. “Oh God, I just threw up a little bit in my mouth.” “Shit, do you need me to pull over?” “No, no. Oh, just ew, Kash! You and Mase kiss my head all the time. Mason picks me up almost every time I see him.” “So?” “So? So! So, Eli is Candice’s older brother that I grew up with and I actually view like my own brother. Besides Candice he was the best friend I had. He helped me through—” I cut myself off quickly and blew out a deep breath. “He helped me through a lot when I was younger. But I have never once viewed him as anything other than family and a friend. He even calls me sis, for crying out loud. Candice isn’t going home with him, they’re going to meet up with their cousin for drinks and I didn’t want to go.” Kash’s face relaxed, and though I expected him to look embarrassed, he just turned and raised an eyebrow. “You don’t like him?” “Seriously, this conversation is grossing me out.” He

Kids are jumping out the windows of burning buildings, falling to their deaths. And we think the problem is that they’re jumping. This is what we’ve done: We’ve tried to find ways to get them to stop jumping. Convince them that burning alive is better than leaving when the shit gets too hot for them to take. We’ve boarded up windows and made better nets to catch them, found more convincing ways to tell them not to jump. They’re making the decision that it’s better to be dead and gone than to be alive in what we have here, this life, the one we made for them, the one they’ve inherited. And we’re either involved and have a hand in each one of their deaths, just like I did with my brother, or we’re absent, which is still involvement, just like silence is not just silence but is not speaking up. I’m in suicide prevention now. I’ve had fifteen relatives commit suicide over the course of my life, not counting my brother. I had one community I was working with recently in South Dakota tell me they were grieved out. That was after experiencing seventeen suicides in their community in just eight months. But how do we instill in our children the will to live? At these conferences. And in the offices. In the emails and at the community events, there has to be an urgency, a do-whatever-at-any-cost sort of spirit behind what we do. Or fuck the programs, maybe we should send the money to the families themselves, who need it and know what to do with it, since we all know what that money goes toward, salaries and conferences like this one. I’m sorry. I get paid outta that shit too, and actually, shit, I’m not sorry, this issue shouldn’t be met with politeness or formality. We can’t get lost in the career advancements and grant objectives, the day-to-day grind, as if we have to do what we do. We choose what we do, and in that choice comes the community. We are choosing for them. All the time. That’s what these kids are feeling. They have no control. Guess what kinda control they do have? We need to be about what we’re always saying we’re about. And if we can’t, and we’re really just about ourselves, we need to step aside, let somebody else from the community who really cares, who’ll really do something, let them come in and help. Fuck all the rest.

I don’t know how my brother drinks whiskey straight—it all kinda tastes like paint thinner to me.

Trudy let out a long breath and hung her head. “Actually, it’s kinda embarrassing,” she said from beneath a curtain of curls. “My mum, she’s been perfecting bioluminescent yeast and lactobacillus strains, some with firefly splices, some with blue glowing Noctiluca plankton splices. Last week, for a lark she grabbed the wrong starter—the perils of using lab equipment for lab work and yogurt starter, I guess—and cultured some goats milk. We enjoyed it for breakfast. The cats got intae it, they ate it as weel. There was also some question, possible contamination of the kraut,” she said brightly. “We first noticed Boo’s—my baby brother, Boo’s short for the ‘Nobu’ in ‘Schrödinger Nobu Duncan Yamaguchi’—glowing nappy later thae evening when I helped put him tae bed. Next we saw the litter box, the glowing cat box, full of glowing cat turds.” She made a disgusted, resigned face. “Ye ken whit they’re like! They play catty-cake with their leavings and as ye can see, whaur kitty’s shitty paws go so does the yellow glow. Nar, I know,” she finished. “Wait, not so fast Yamaguchi,” said Olivia. “Does this mean you’ve been dropping glow sticks off at the pool, leaving bioluminescent raver monkey arms in the bowl, stocking the ole’ lake with incandescent brown trout much?” Trudy looked truly horrified, mortified. “SHUT UP,” she whispered in crisply articulated exasperation, pale green eyes bulging. “I really, really dinna want tae talk aboot it, much less think aboot it,” she added with a convulsive shiver. “Ye, Rosebeetle, dinna even think aboot it either!” He gave her his best what-who-me-? look in reply. “And stop looking at my bahookie!” With difficulty he and Olivia tore their eyes from her curvy derrière. “Glow-poops,” said Byron quickly, “we’re all thinking it.” Trudy glared at him.

Hey, Violet!” I jump, jolted out of my thoughts, to see Evan standing in front of me, holding out his hand. “Wanna dance?” he’s saying. I stare at him blankly. Then, around the side of his big frame, I see Kendra being waltzed around the terrace by some boy I don’t know. “Ev!” Paige reprimands her brother, giggling. “You say, ‘May I have the pleasure of this waltz?’” Evan goes one better: he bends over in an awkward bow as he repeats the words. I don’t feel remotely like dancing, but how can I possibly say no? So I take his hand and make a sound like “Oof!” as he pulls me toward him. I put my other hand up on his high wide shoulder and do my best to follow him as we trip and stumble at first, trying to get the one-two-three rhythm of the waltz. I’m mainly worried that he’ll tread on my feet, but he doesn’t, by some miracle, and gradually we sort of get it; I look up at him and he’s grinning down at me. “Paige dared me to ask someone to waltz,” he says confidingly, “and I picked you ’cause you’re such a good dancer.” “Thank you!” I say, flattered. “No, thank you,” he says, swinging us in a semicircle to make a turn and avoid crashing into the wall of the castello. “You’re actually kinda making me look like I know what I’m doing.

You probably don’t remember this, but when you were four and your brother was just born, there was a park by the house we lived in. There wasn’t much, but there was this dinosaur swing. It was a normal swing, except it was shaped like a T-Rex with a saddle on its back. You loved that swing. Every time you saw it, your little four-year-old face would glow with pure, unreserved excitement.” “Awesome?” I say, not sure where she’s going with the four-year-old story. “Sounds like a kickass swing. I’d probably still swing on it, assuming I could fit now.” She laughs and takes the next plate from me. “You would. And it’s also the look you have around Eden.” “Like he’s a T-Rex swing with a saddle? That sounds kinda kinky.