Maggie Gee Quotes

Voicemail #1: “Hi, Isabel Culpeper. I am lying in my bed, looking at the ceiling. I am mostly naked. I am thinking of … your mother. Call me.” Voicemail #2: The first minute and thirty seconds of “I’ve Gotta Get a Message to You” by the Bee Gees. Voicemail #3: “I’m bored. I need to be entertained. Sam is moping. I may kill him with his own guitar. It would give me something to do and also make him say something. Two birds with one stone! I find all these old expressions unnecessarily violent. Like, ring around the rosy. That’s about the plague, did you know? Of course you did. The plague is, like, your older cousin. Hey, does Sam talk to you? He says jack shit to me. God, I’m bored. Call me.” Voicemail #4: “Hotel California” by the Eagles, in its entirety, with every instance of the word California replaced with Minnesota. Voicemail #5: “Hi, this is Cole St. Clair. Want to know two true things? One, you’re never picking up this phone. Two, I’m never going to stop leaving long messages. It’s like therapy. Gotta talk to someone. Hey, you know what I figured out today? Victor’s dead. I figured it out yesterday, too. Every day I figure it out again. I don’t know what I’m doing here. I feel like there’s no one I can —” Voicemail #6: “So, yeah, I’m sorry. That last message went a little pear-shaped. You like that expression? Sam said it the other day. Hey, try this theory on for size: I think he’s a dead British housewife reincarnated into a Beatle’s body. You know, I used to know this band that put on fake British accents for their shows. Boy, did they suck, aside from being assholes. I can’t remember their name now. I’m either getting senile or I’ve done enough to my brain that stuff’s falling out. Not so fair of me to make this one-sided, is it? I’m always talking about myself in these things. So, how are you, Isabel Rosemary Culpeper? Smile lately? Hot Toddies. That was the name of the band. The Hot Toddies.” Voicemail #20: “I wish you’d answer.

Albion Park on a fierce spring morning. A mad March day of ice and fire. Thomas's feet beat a tattoo on the path. Every hair, every bristle on his chin stands on end. He is a small star-ship of blazing neurons- He is a librarian on his way to work, half-blind with sun and cold and memory.

From Nowhere On The Map, Lana's plaything. Maggie chuckled, it had not occurred to her before now. True, she had drawn an assumption about Lana when the woman initially never called or visited. This impression certainly did not improved when she finally met her. Then there was the girl’s pole dancing moves last night that did nothing to endear her. However, Jon brought the picture into focus for her. She could not believe he had not guessed at the woman’s motives before now. “Jon, really you have no idea why?” Maggie decided to clue him in; “Jon, she keeps coming back because you're her sure thing.” She allowed the words to sink in. She heard Jon repeat 'sure thing' as he wrangled with this and it’s association with him. Like a bell, she could almost hear the thought hit his brainpan. “Oh hell, you really think so?” Maggie laughed, poor City Cat, he was nothing but a big handsome sex toy to Lana. Maggie wanted to feel empathy for him but really, guys do this to girls all the time. She was impressed with Lana for having turned the tables on the boys. “Well now that we have this settled, drink plenty of water and again don't toss your cookies on my stuff. I hope you feel better…about everything.” Maggie had to add the last barb, she could not resist it was in her nature. Jon chuckled she was unsure but she swore he muttered something like ‘gee thanks’ adding he would talk to her later.

My body has a mind of its own. Apparently it thinks that “new year” is synonymous with “exercise program,” and has been attempting to coerce me into one. Right. Like shifting from one side of the couch to the other isn’t work. “Hey! What about ME?” it asked. “Hello! Down here! The attachment to your neck that is beginning to resemble a marshmallow? Remember? When are we going to join a gym? A girl your age has a lot more than just a reputation to uphold, you know - your butt springs to mind! So when’s it going to be? Huh? Huh?” “Hmmm,” I answered thoughtfully. “How about never? Is never good for you?” “Yeah, ya big coward. That’s the thanks I get for silently squeezing into those jeans all these months? I knew you were a weenie.” “I have a black belt, I’ll have you know!” I retorted. “You might want to show a little respect! There was a day when the only ripples on my body were the ones defining my abdomen!” “‘Ooh, look at me, I’m a martial artist!’ Well, Jean-Claude Van Flab, let’s invite reality in for some tea, shall we? That day was FOUR YEARS AGO. Those laurels you’re resting on are becoming a little more than figurative. People are gonna start calling you ‘Baggie’!” “My, but you’ve gotten cocky in your old age,” I responded, “considering I’M STILL THE BOSS. I own you. You’re mine.” “Gee, boss, I hate to shatter your delusions of adequacy,” it shot back, “but your employee is revolting - and you can take THAT any way you want.” I looked down and sighed. It had a point.

I Feel for You,” Chaka Khan “She’s a Bad Mama Jama,” Carl Carlton “Ring My Bell,” Anita Ward “More Bounce to the Ounce,” Zapp “Le Freak,” CHIC “Best of My Love,” The Emotions “You Dropped a Bomb on Me,” The Gap Band “Forget Me Nots,” Patrice Rushen “I’m Coming Out,” Diana Ross “Let’s Groove,” Earth, Wind & Fire “Xanadu,” Olivia Newton-John “Night Fever,” Bee Gees “Love Rollercoaster,” Ohio Players “Get Down on It,” Kool & The Gang

When did they make this flick?” Johnny sat transfixed by the film playing out in life size beyond the front windshield of the Cadillac. The flickering lights reflected off the hard metal surfaces around the room, creating a constantly changing multi-colored glow that lit up Maggie’s smooth face with blue light. His own face seemed to repel it as if he were watching behind darkened glass. “I’m not sure exactly. It’s pretty old. Maybe sometime in the 1980’s,” Maggie mused, munching a handful of popcorn. “Gee – that is old,” Johnny quipped, his voice heavy with irony. “You made a joke, old man! Good job!” Maggie teased and offered the bag of popcorn to him. He shook his head. “I’ll have to show you sometime what happens to food when I attempt to eat it

I read everything, both serious and funny. Dickens, Thackeray, Rider Haggard, PG Wodehouse, Chinua Achebe, and the endless wailing of Virginia Woolf, thin terrible books where nothing happened.