Legally Blonde Quotes

Perhaps Mr. Grey insists on all his employees being blonde. I’m wondering idly if that’s legal.

Even the receptionist was new, a pretty, young, buxom blonde named Eden, according to her nameplate. Micah must have handpicked her from the Garden.

What does not kill us makes us hotter!

This is better than watching Elle Woods take down Warner Huntington III in Legally Blonde.

Saxton, the King’s solicitor and Qhuinn’s own cousin, put his perfect blond head in. “I have those documents that you—” The recoil would have been comical if Qhuinn hadn’t been up to his elbows in baby poop. The attorney let out a cough. Or maybe that was a gagging noise. “Dearest Virgin Scribe, whatever are you feeding them?” “Enfamil formula.” “And this is legal?” “For the most part, yes. Although depending on the digestive tract it goes into, clearly there are military applications.” “Indeed.

He’s gay, he’s single, he owns his own business. He lives in a cute-as-hell cabin-type house. He’s sweet and funny, and Liv, I don’t think you understand. He even named his dog Chutney from Legally Blonde. And he has little shoes for her so she can walk in the snow.

Have you ever asked yourself what kind of story the story of your life is? I always thought mine would be a coming-of-age story. A small-town girl making it in the big city, like Melanie Griffith in Working Girl or Dolly Parton in 9 to 5. Sure, I’d struggle for everything I achieved, but in the end my plucky can-do attitude would ensure I’d triumph over whatever obstacles stood in my way. Like Legally Blonde or Pretty Woman or Pride and Prejudice, the story of my life would be an uplifting comedy, in turns fun and moving and aspirational. I’d be strong and spirited and a riot to be around. I’d be beautiful and smart and kids would love me. That’s what I thought. But now—looking down at the gun in my hands, feeling the heft of it, its cold reality in my palm—I’m not so sure I got the genre right. In fact I’m not even sure I’m the main character anymore.

Alex Honnold, free solo climbing phenom: The Last of the Mohicans soundtrack Rolf Potts, author of Vagabonding and others: ambitones like The Zen Effect in the key of C for 30 minutes, made by Rolfe Kent, the composer of music for movies like Sideways, Wedding Crashers, and Legally Blonde Matt Mullenweg, lead developer of WordPress, CEO of Automattic: “Everyday” by A$AP Rocky and “One Dance” by Drake Amelia Boone, the world’s most successful female obstacle course racer: “Tonight Tonight” by the Smashing Pumpkins and “Keep Your Eyes Open” by NEEDTOBREATHE Chris Young, mathematician and experimental chef: Paul Oakenfold’s “Live at the Rojan in Shanghai,” Pete Tong’s Essential Mix Jason Silva, TV and YouTube philosopher: “Time” from the Inception soundtrack by Hans Zimmer Chris Sacca: “Harlem Shake” by Baauer and “Lift Off” by Jay Z and Kanye West, featuring Beyoncé. “I can bang through an amazing amount of email with the Harlem Shake going on in the background.” Tim Ferriss: Currently I’m listening to “Circulation” by Beats Antique and “Black Out the Sun” by Sevendust, depending on whether I need flow or a jumpstart.

The last week of shooting, we did a scene in which I drag Amanda Wyss, the sexy, blond actress who played Tina, across the ceiling of her bedroom, a sequence that ultimately became one of the most visceral from the entire Nightmare franchise. Tina’s bedroom was constructed as a revolving set, and before Tina and Freddy did their dance of death, Wes did a few POV shots of Nick Corri (aka Rod) staring at the ceiling in disbelief, then we flipped the room, and the floor became the ceiling and the ceiling became the floor and Amanda and I went to work. As was almost always the case when Freddy was chasing after a nubile young girl possessed by her nightmare, Amanda was clad only in her baby-doll nightie. Wes had a creative camera angle planned that he wanted to try, a POV shot from between Amanda’s legs. Amanda, however, wasn’t in the cameramen’s union and wouldn’t legally be allowed to operate the cemera for the shot. Fortunately, Amy Haitkin, our director of photography’s wife, was our film’s focus puller and a gifted camera operator in her own right. Being a good sport, she peeled off her jeans and volunteered to stand in for Amanda. The makeup crew dapped some fake blood onto her thighs, she lay down on the ground, Jacques handed her the camera, I grabbed her ankles, and Wes called, “Action.” After I dragged Amy across the floor/ceiling, I spontaneously blew her a kiss with my blood-covered claw; the fake blood on my blades was viscous, so that when I blew her my kiss of death, the blood webbed between my blades formed a bubble, a happy cinematic accident. The image of her pale, slender, blood-covered legs, Freddy looming over her, straddling the supine adolescent girl, knife fingers dripping, was surreal, erotic, and made for one of the most sexually charged shots of the movie. Unfortunately it got left on the cutting-room floor. If Wes had left it in, the MPAA - who always seemed to have it out for Mr. Craven - would definitely have tagged us with an X rating. You win some, you lose some.

Most of the women in the Camp were poor, poorly educated, and came from neighborhoods where the mainstream economy was barely present and the narcotics trade provided the most opportunities for employment. Their typical offenses were for things like low-level dealing, allowing their apartments to be used for drug activity, serving as couriers, and passing messages, all for low wages. Small involvement in the drug trade could land you in prison for many years, especially if you had a lousy court-appointed lawyer. Even if you had a great Legal Aid lawyer, he or she was guaranteed to have a staggering caseload and limited resources for your defense. It was hard for me to believe that the nature of our crimes was what accounted for my fifteen-month sentence versus some of my neighbors’ much lengthier ones. I had a fantastic private attorney and a country-club suit to go with my blond bob.

The state created the legal framework within which Jews could be exploited with impunity, but the profits from this form of looting flowed almost exclusively to private German interests.

These problems were particularly knotty in situations where the Nazis had “legalized” their acts of persecution by announcing laws and decrees that ordered deportations, compulsory labor, or seizure of property.

Thus, the Nazis’ systematic persecution of Jews and others trapped inside Axis countries appeared to be “legal.” International law, as it then stood, seemed powerless to do anything.

Worse, the Flick case established a legal precedent for a corporate defense of “necessity”—a close cousin to the defense of acting under orders—that went beyond even what Flick had argued on his own behalf and that contradicted many aspects of the earlier ruling on this issue by the International Military Tribunal.6 Amazingly, the legal precedent left by this series of trials seems to be that a nineteen-year-old draftee accused of war crimes cannot successfully plead that he was acting under orders, but the owners and directors of multi-billion-dollar companies can.

Reese Witherspoon reflects both of those qualities effortlessly in this new film by Mira Nair, and no wonder, for isn’t there a little of Elle Woods, her character in Legally Blonde, at work here?

Well, good,” he told her. “Because I think you're a spoiled little brat with delusions of being some kind of suburban princess,” he bit out. “And I think you need to realize there's more to life than pink frilly outfits and the perfect shade of lip gloss. If you didn't look like you do, you'd have no friends at all.”               She was still on her knees, head down, determined not to cry. She didn't have friends. His words cut like a knife, but they were all true. It was bad enough her mom wasn't here to watch her movie with her. She didn't need Dylan to make her feel like nothing. After finally getting all of the ruined popcorn back into the bowl, she stood and turned around quickly, avoiding his gaze. She dumped the contents of the bowl in the garbage and marched straight past him and into the living room. Over her shoulder she mustered the ability to shout without a hint of a crack in her voice. “Yeah, well I think you're a pretentious prick who thinks he's too good for everyone since he went to that dumb-ass college!”               Katie flopped down onto the couch, bundled herself up in blankets, and flipped through her DVR to find Legally Blonde. It could at least make her feel better even if her mother wasn't around. A single, solitary tear rolled down her right cheek as she heard Dylan walk behind her, headed for the stairs. She tried as hard as she could to block out the cry-fest she knew was coming until he got to his room where he couldn't hear her, but just when she heard his foot hit the first creaky step, she let out a sniffle and wiped a tear from her face. Katie heard Dylan stop. There were no more creaks on the stairs. Shit, she thought to herself. He heard her.                              

Uncle Burt’s round face, mixing bowl bangs of greying blond locks and toothless smile made him look more like an emoticon than a judge.

Well, looks like we’re going to Penn. College decision done.” “Well, one of us has the transcript for Penn,” she says slowly, wrinkling her nose at me. “Ugh. How hard could it be?” I eye the door, hoping for another glimpse of Finn. Chloe pinches the bridge of her nose. “It’s Ivy League, Everly.” “So I’ll Legally Blonde myself together.” “Good plan. You remember how that movie ended, don’t you?” I nod. “She gets the guy.” “Not the guy she got into law school for.” Humph. Sometimes Chloe is just so literal. “It’s an outline, Chloe. We can edit as we go.

For a maverick, he rebelled against his party a puny five times in his seven years as an MP. When he did so, it was usually taking a more liberal line than the leadership (and, indeed, his own previous positions), such as backing the repeal of the infamous Section 28 ban on the promotion of homosexuality and voting in favour of giving legal status to change of gender for transsexuals. When

Friends of yours? Nice of them to make it to our claiming ceremony.” The deep voice behind her made Liv whirl around. He was directly behind her, looming over her and nodding at Sophie and Kat as though they were at a wedding or something. Well it is a wedding, isn’t it? Or the next best thing to it, chimed in the little voice. Liv was beginning to wish she had an ice pick so she could dig it out once and for all. Then she realized that was a crazy thought—and yet, she was in a crazy situation. How else was she supposed to react? “I’m her attorney, you asshole,” Kat lied with abandon before Liv could say anything. “And there’s not going to be any ceremony,” Sophia added, speaking up even though she was usually a total wallflower around strange men. She turned to Kat. “Is there, Kat?” “I’m afraid there is.” The big Kindred warrior had a neutral expression on his face but there was a warning rumble in his deep voice. “She’s my bride. I’m claiming her today.” “Excuse me? Claiming her? Like she was a lost piece of luggage at the airport or something?” Kat demanded. “She’s not lost anymore,” the big warrior said with certainty. “Now that I’ve found her she’s mine.” “Liv doesn’t belong to you or anybody else,” Sophia hissed, glaring up at him and keeping her arms protectively around Liv. “She’s my sister—you can’t step in and take her away, just like that!” “Actually, I’m afraid he can.” The new voice caused all of three of them to swivel their heads. Another Kindred warrior with blond, spiky hair and ice blue eyes was speaking. “You made a legally binding agreement when you enrolled in the draft,” he told Liv. “Not to mention just now when the officers picked you up and you signed the contract of claiming.” “I what?” Liv demanded. “What are you talking about? I didn’t sign anything. Did I?” The blond Kindred held out his hand and one of the Kindred officers put a thick sheaf of papers in it. “Does this look familiar?” he asked, holding it out to her. Liv felt her heart sink. “But I thought I was just signing to verify my uh, identity. See, they showed me this picture—” “Let me see that.” Kat snatched the papers away and began scanning through them rapidly. Liv and Sophia watched her hopefully but Liv could feel the hope in her chest turning to despair as Kat’s pretty face grew more and more blank. At last she looked up. “Well?” Liv felt like someone had deposited a fist sized ball of ice in the pit of her stomach. “Liv, honey—” Kat began and Sophia began to sob. “I can’t believe this,” she gasped, tears pouring down her face. “Can’t believe that they can just drag you out of your house without even giving you time to change clothes and force you to go with some strange man. This is horrible!” Liv felt numb. “No, Sophie, this is reality.

She's contacted Vogue Japan to do a profile on my university entrance journey. It will be like Legally Blonde meets The Princess Diaries, she said. I'm not sure exactly what that means, but I said okay. I am wearing a chic navy suit by Amano. According to this morning's Tokyo Tattler, I am now his patron.

The problem was that I wasn’t her, his firstborn; born in Europe to a Spanish mother. I wasn’t passionate about the land, about those damned cacao beans and chocolate like she was—even from afar. No, I was born in the New Continent; I was the daughter of a mestiza, his second not-so-legal wife and certainly not a full-blooded hidalga. It didn’t matter that I wore the latest fashion or how light my hair was (I washed it with manzanilla tea every other day to keep my blond streaks). It didn’t matter that I married a Frenchman

there was no direct mention that the murder of Jews, stateless people, and other Axis civilians was in any sense a crime, because the legal advisors at the State Department and the Foreign Office believed it was not. Jews as such were not mentioned even in the lists of atrocity victims in the declaration. This pivotal question of international law and justice remained unresolved.

Morgenthau’s legal advisors at the Treasury Department favored a tough line on Nazi crimes. It was unthinkable that Germany would be permitted to legalize mass murder and the looting of an entire continent, they argued. If previous international agreements on war crimes had failed to deal with Nazi-style genocide, then justice demanded that new legal precedents be set.

In all, the British estimated that the Germans had extracted the equivalent of about $180 billion from occupied Europe as of 1943, including both direct levies for occupation costs and a variety of hidden techniques such as currency manipulation. These figures were based on financial statistics published by the Germans themselves and do not include estimates for wealth seized from the USSR and Greece. As such, even the $180 billion figure clearly underestimates the true total.14 The BIS cooperated with and facilitated this scheme despite protests from exiled Allied governments. The bank recognized the Nazi-installed occupation governments, provided the clearing services essential to “legalizing” the operation, and even went so far as to help Nazi leaders such as Walther Funk unload looted gold in international markets.

As the British diplomats saw it, the legal concept of war crimes should be limited to a handful of specific acts that might typically be perpetrated by individual soldiers acting outside of orders, such as the torture or summary execution of POWs.

The broad, popular demands that the U.S. take harsh action against those who had committed atrocities collided with the legal professionals at the State Department in much the same way as they had in the wake of the Armenian Genocide of World War I.

Invincible, or A Knight’s Tale, Patch Adams, or Remember the Titans. U571, Legally Blonde, The Replacements, Mystery Alaska, Coach Carter, Erin Brockovich, Working Girl, G I Jane, Miracle, Secretariat, Braveheart, Apollo 13, Gladiator or 8 Mile … I

Amazingly, the legal precedent left by this series of trials seems to be that a nineteen-year-old draftee accused of war crimes cannot successfully plead that he was acting under orders, but the owners and directors of multi-billion-dollar companies can.

But the actual implementation of these treaties and the legal framework supporting human rights efforts remains notoriously weak.

What, like it’s hard?” I laugh. “Wait, I forget, was Legally Blonde on that movie list?

Saxton, the King’s solicitor and Qhuinn’s own cousin, put his perfect blond head in. “I have those documents that you—” The recoil would have been comical if Qhuinn hadn’t been up to his elbows in baby poop. The attorney let out a cough. Or maybe that was a gagging noise. “Dearest Virgin Scribe, whatever are you feeding them?” “Enfamil formula.” “And this is legal?” “For the most part, yes. Although depending on the digestive tract it goes into, clearly there are military applications.

practical

The “legalization” established at Wannsee (and in related laws and decrees) achieved a relatively smooth linkage between the surface world of wartime life and the officially denied world of mass extermination.

I want someone who believes in me like the couple in Legally Blonde . Who's my best friend, like they were in When Harry Met Sally . Who would give me the raft in Titanic, except I wouldn't let them. We would both find a way to fit on that tiny door because they totally could have. I want my heart to race when I see their message like in you got mail basically Em all your movies were in me because now I need the spark