Meh Quotes

Oh, that flipped my bitch switch from meh to pure “I’m going to cut a bitch” rage.

It's a long life to spend doing something you're only meh about.

How dare you call me lazy? I'd come up with a scathing retort but, meh, I'm just not motivated.

And bottom line, without John by her side, everything seemed to be just a big, resounding meh.

When someone hits you, just calmly get back up and say "You hit meh how dare you.

Don't tawch meh matherfawker!

I am a strong women... I have been through... Bullying, Abuse, Heartache, Discrimination, Hate, Sexuality Judgement. I have been called... Ugly, Selfish, Heartless, Emotionless, A Freak. But all of that made me into what I am today. I am... Beautiful, Kind, Loving, ...Adorable?, Selfless, Strong. I have... Wonderful Friends, Loving Boyfriends, Caring Relatives. And this is who I am...this is what all the bad and good have turned me into..and I love it..thank you.

Meh is basically a shoulder shrug, and that pretty much sums up the reaction I get from society at large.

Which kind of summed up the whole of my collective dating history, actually: meh.

If you picked up the Life of Frank movie case at Scarecrow Video, the best review on the back would just say, 'Meh.

Prioritize the items you feel strongest about or are the most time sensitive, and strike off the items you feel “meh” about. We’re not here to design a lukewarm life.

He meh'ed on and moved on.

How am I friends with them? Oh yeah, just smooshed together through life, and ended up sticking together. I guess I am stuck with them. Usually I would be happy about that. Right now, meh.

Let’s all put our weapons down,” Piper said. “Coach, you first.” Hedge clenched his jaw. “Just one thwack?” “No,” Piper said. “What about a compromise? I’ll kill them first, and if it turns out they were friendly, I’ll apologize.” “No!” Piper insisted. “Meh.” Coach Hedge lowered his club.

No, really, Herr Nietzche, I have great admiration for you. Sympathy. You want to make us able to live with the void. Not lie ourselves into good-naturedness, trust, ordinary middling human considerations, but to question as has never been questioned before, relentlessly, with iron determination, into evil, through evil, past evil, accepting no abject comfort. The most absolute, the most piercing questions. Rejecting mankind as it is, that ordinary, practical, thieving, stinking, unilluminated, sodden rabble, not only the laboring rabble, but even worse the "educated" rabble with its books and concerts and lectures, its liberalism and its romantic theatrical "loves" and "passions"--it all deserves to die, it will die. Okay. Still, your extremists must survive. No survival, no Amor Fati. Your immoralists also eat meat. They ride the bus. They are only the most bus-sick travelers. Humankind lives mainly upon perverted ideas. Perverted, your ideas are no better than those the Christianity you condemn. Any philosopher who wants to keep his contact with mankind should pervert his own system in advance to see how it will really look a few decades after adoption. I send you greetings from this mere border of grassy temporal light, and wish you happiness, wherever you are. Yours, under the veil of Maya, M.E.H.

I done saw dat alligator et up a pig!” Mr. Thibodeaux had told her today. “Et it clean up. I taught to mahself, meh, dat alligator he wants some bacon!

Parts of Chicago are wondrous fair, and parts of Chicago look postapocalyptic. This block had seen the apocalypse come, grunted, and said, “Meh.

There are a million and ten things from the subatomic to the cosmic that can rattle my nerves on a daily basis, and one of those things is my initials. M.E.H. Like the word: meh. Meh is basically a shoulder shrug, and that pretty much sums up the reaction I get from society at large.

What, you think Penryn’s sister can take on Godzilla instead?” asks Dum. Dee thinks about it. “Meh, probably not. Maybe her mom can, though.

Who was that?" Sam asked as we walked out of the photo hut. "I work with him. It's cool," I said, rubbing my arm absentmindedly. "He seems like an ass." Mercy laughed. "But a cute one. And he has a cute one too. You're lucky he's all into you, Amerie. I say go for it." I shot her a look. "You'd tell me to go for a psycho murderer, if he was cute." "Meh. Life's short.

Ruby and Aaron are both crazy patient; they’re good parents.” “I could be a good dad,” Ivan whispered, still feeding Jess. I could have told him he’d be good at anything he wanted to be good at, but nah. “Do you want to have kids?” he asked me out of the blue. I handed Benny another block. “A long time from now, maybe.” “A long time… like how long?” That had me glancing at Ivan over my shoulder. He had his entire attention on Jessie, and I was pretty sure he was smiling down at her. Huh. “My early thirties, maybe? I don’t know. I might be okay with not having any either. I haven’t really thought about it much, except for knowing I don’t want to have them any time soon, you know what I mean?” “Because of figure skating?” “Why else? I barely have enough time now. I couldn’t imagine trying to train and have kids. My baby daddy would have to be a rich, stay-at-home dad for that to work.” Ivan wrinkled his nose at my niece. “There are at least ten skaters I know with kids.” I rolled my eyes and poked Benny in the side when he held out his little hand for another block. That got me a toothy grin. “I’m not saying it’s impossible. I just wouldn’t want to do it any time soon. I don’t want to half-ass or regret it. If they ever exist, I’d want them to be my priority. I wouldn’t want them to think they were second best.” Because I knew what that felt like. And I’d already screwed up enough with making grown adults I loved think they weren’t important. If I was going to do something, I wanted to do my best and give it everything. All he said was, “Hmm.” A thought came into my head and made my stomach churn. “Why? Are you planning on having kids any time soon?” “I wasn’t,” he answered immediately. “I like this baby though, and that one. Maybe I need to think about it.” I frowned, the feeling in my stomach getting more intense. He kept blabbing. “I could start training my kids really young…. I could coach them. Hmm.” It was my turn to wrinkle my nose. “Three hours with two kids and now you want them?” Ivan glanced down at me with a smirk. “With the right person. I’m not going to have them with just anybody and dilute my blood.” I rolled my eyes at this idiot, still ignoring that weird feeling in my belly that I wasn’t going to acknowledge now or ever. “God forbid, you have kids with someone that’s not perfect. Dumbass.” “Right?” He snorted, looking down at the baby before glancing back at me with a smile I wasn’t a fan of. “They might come out short, with mean, squinty, little eyes, a big mouth, heavy bones, and a bad attitude.” I blinked. “I hope you get abducted by aliens.” Ivan laughed, and the sound of it made me smile. “You would miss me.” All I said, while shrugging was, “Meh. I know I’d get to see you again someday—” He smiled. “—in hell.” That wiped the look right off his face. “I’m a good person. People like me.” “Because they don’t know you. If they did, somebody would have kicked your ass already.” “They’d try,” he countered, and I couldn’t help but laugh. There was something wrong with us. And I didn’t hate it. Not even a little bit.

If your soul is sad or your mind is gloomy, the narrow dark streets of the night seem like medicine to you because the rivers flow into the sea; and we flow into the things whose fate look like our fate!

And then he asked me how I felt about you.” Now I put real effort into wrestling out of his choke hold, eventually succeeding. I pull back and stare at Shane, horrified. “He didn’t.” “He did.” His expression is carefully blank, dark eyes fathomless. “And…you said…” “I said…” “That you’re in awe of me?” “Uh-huh.” “That you admire my work ethic?” “Yep.” “And envy my wicked sense of humor?” “No.” “My fabulous legs?” “Meh.” “You lie!

Aiden had been tagged. Oh, that flipped my bitch switch from meh to pure “I’m going to cut a bitch” rage.

Meh. Maybe it’s not your time yet. But I’ll bet fifty bucks you could use some spice in your life, and a powerful missile in your silo wouldn’t go amiss if you know what I mean.

Meh onu umeh khayeynu—what do folks like us count? Moshul kekheres hanishbor—we’re just so much scrap in their eyes. Except that real scrap isn’t thrown away so easily …

My Schadenfreude phaser is set to "Meh".

This is Mindy. Malia was reading her book in Hawaii.” My book! Malia Obama was reading my book! The one Amazon.com reviewer “My2Cents” called “sort of meh”! I was walking on air.

Meh. I’m an addict, you’re a bitch,” he mused, pulling me close. “No relationship is perfect.

I’m stupid in love with you, Sailor Brennan. Will you have my dumb ass? Flaws included. No returns.” “Fourteen business days to return said butt, and I get my full heart back if your performance is not to my satisfaction.” I started bargaining with him on live television. This was what we did. We bantered. His eyes lit up with mischief. “You never complained about the performance during your free trial period.” “Meh.” I shrugged. “It was free. Paying for something with hearts and other organs is a completely different matter.” “Fine. I believe in my product. You got yourself a deal.” He stood up in front of me. I reached my hand between us to shake on it. He took it and jerked me up, engulfing me in his huge arms.

did the people who estranged themselves, did they feel free afterward?” “No,” Catherine said with certainty. I waited. There was nothing else. “No…?” I asked, my heart sinking. “Well, if not freer…were they…happier?” Catherine munched on her cracker and shrugged. “Meh,” she said. She must have seen my unhappy expression. “Look,” she explained, “I don’t think it brought anyone joy. It didn’t make people happy to have to do it. It was just necessary. I think you just have to figure out if it’s necessary for you. I can’t tell you if you should do it or shouldn’t. All I can say is that if you do do it, you’re not alone.

It’s so overwhelming when you notice how the clock ticks; so many tiny pieces holding each other together just so it keeps going. We are like clocks, too! Always ticking to the tocks. When the pieces of our soul are torn away or broken – we can’t be sent to the mending shop, however. So how do we get better? Workable? Thoughts can be tiring, at times. Or maybe it’s the same time – who knows? The clock is broken. Meh.

Meh. Every time I think I’ve met someone, they either end up boring me to death or just wanting to tell me what to do.” I laugh. “Godspeed to the man who tries to tell Willa Grant what to do.” “Amen,” is my friend’s solemn reply.

Our guy has a property office, John. And I don't mean the Property Office here in One PP. I mean the huge fucking storage facility. A guy in there, with access to thousands of fucking handguns. Even the ones that other people would be keeping an eye on, like Son of Sam's piece, for fuck's sake - a guy in there who'll just boost them and give them to our guy to kill people with. And if the guns are too famous, he'll cut his own slugs out of the bodies and walk away. This guy, our guy, he's actually starting to scare me a bit right now." "A couple of hundred kills to his name didn't do that?" "Meh. I dream about killing two hundred people every fucking night." "You know," said Tallow, "whenever I'm in danger of forgetting you're CSU, you always find a way to remind me.

Nothing to write about.” “There’s a whole world to write about.” “Meh. The world is such a mess right now. The whole novel thing—it feels trivial, telling little stories when everything is falling apart.” “Everything is always falling apart. We still need art.

Meh. She’s not overly unattractive, but I don’t trust cat people. Maybe it’s the inside knowledge of growing up with one, but I think they’re often like the animals they love—unpredictable and emotionally unstable. You never know when they’ll be aloof and distant or senselessly desperate for your affection.

Having what you want all the time is a hidden curse. You end up spending your days chasing the best things, only to have the most breathtaking experiences feel…meh. There’s no balance to make the pleasure enjoyable. You didn’t work for it. The release and joy that come from luxury are only felt when you earned it.

After all there’s a lot in that vegetarian fine flavour of things from the earth garlic of course it stinks after Italian organgrinders crisp of onions mushrooms truffles. Pain to the animal too. Pluck and draw fowl. Wretched brutes there at the cattlemarket waiting for the poleaxe to split their skulls open. Moo. Poor trembling calves. Meh.

Most importantly, Enki was the custodian of the ‘Me’, perhaps pronounced something like Meh, an untranslatable Sumerian expression which the great Assyriologist Samuel Noah Kramer explained as the ‘fundamental, unalterable, comprehensive assortment of powers and duties, norms and standards, rules and regulations, relating to… civilized life’.

I need your trust in this, Alec. Can you give it?" Alec looked sidelong at the fire for a long moment, then locked eyes with him again, and replied in halting Aurenfaie, "Rei phoril tos tokun meh brithir, vri sh'ruit'ya." Though you thrust your dagger at my eyes, I will not flinch. A solemn oath, and one Seregil had pledged him not so long ago.

Exactly,” Ro said. “For the record, I’m totally on Team Not-the-Daddy.” “You are?” Keefe asked. “Yup! I’ve seen the dude, remember? I mean, personally I think all of you elves are scrawny and weird-looking—but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to tell which ones of you are technically ‘prettier’ by your elf-y standards. And Councillor Pointy Ears? Meh. No way his daughter could be our little blond hottie right here.

Did you do the jump yet?” “Meh.” “Why haven’t you done it?” I moved my eyes from the bright window to Zion. “I can’t hold on. I’ll fall off.” I rolled my eyes. “Duh.” Zion crossed his arms. “Duh?” “Would you want to ride a big roller coaster without a harness?” “That’s not a very good comparison.” “Would you skydive without a parachute?” “That’s worse,” Zion said. “Not even close. Just do the jump. Stop being a scaredy-cat.” “No one says scaredy-cat.” “I totally just did.

Practice meh. The cruelest thing you can do to cheaters is pay no attention to them. Their little narcissist souls die every time a kibble is withheld. When you engage in drama, you’re filling the trough with ego kibbles. If you show them your pain, the only thing that registers with them is that they matter. They feel central! Pretty! Fought over! When you practice indifference, however, it unnerves them. They usually try to up their kibble game with “remorse,” or more in-your-face antics to get a rise out of you. (Feed me! Feed me!) Do not give in. Practice meh.

Find something more productive and less nosy to do!” she shouted at the closest peeping LeafWing. He jumped and scurried away up the tree like a startled squirrel. “Oh my goodness,” Willow said. “Must you be so terrifying?” “It’s my special skill,” Sundew said. “And he deserved it.” “Did he, though?” Willow said thoughtfully. “Could you please keep being the one dragon I’m not furious at right now?” Sundew said. “Come on, everyone, let’s go. Willow, you lead the way for now, since you’re the most familiar with the jungle around your village.” Willow hesitated for a moment, as though she was thinking about pressing her point a bit more, but instead she nodded and headed into the trees, to Sundew’s relief. Sundew followed, with Cricket a half step behind her. The HiveWing was like a shadow, staying as close to Sundew as she could, although she kept twisting her head to stare at weird plants as they went by. “I’m familiar with this area, too,” Nettle complained from the rear. “I’ve been scouting in SapWing territory since before Mandrake was born. I know every kind of tree around here.” “Meh meh meh meh meh,” Bumblebee said in a hilariously similar tone of voice.

YOU NEVER THANKED ME FOR THE BURGER. INGRATE. He checked his work e-mail and fired off a few quick replies. About ten minutes later, he got a text message from Brooke. SOMEBODY WOULD’VE BEEN THANKED IN PERSON, IF HE HADN’T STORMED OUT OF MY OFFICE AS PART OF SOME CRANKY-MAN TIRADE. He smiled while replying. OUT OF THE KINDNESS OF MY HEART, I’LL LET YOU THANK ME IN PERSON OVER DINNER TONIGHT. GOT GOOD NEWS TODAY, NEED TO CELEBRATE. JUST HOW GOOD IS THIS GOOD NEWS? she wrote back. Cade thought about that. ON A SCALE OF MEH TO HOLY-SHIT-I-JUST-WON-THE-ROSE-BOWL, I’D SAY THIS COMES IN AT REALLY DAMN COOL.

[Northerners] took over the Southern myth and themselves began to revel in it. This acceptance was to culminate in Gone With the Wind, the enormous success of which novel makes a curious counterbalance to that of Uncle Tom's Cabin. But it began in the Century of the eighties with the stories of Thomas Nelson Page. Though Page had been only twelve at the end of the Civil War, so had had little experience of the old regime, he really invented for the popular mind Old Massa and Mistis and Meh Lady, with their dusky-skinned adoring retainers. The Northerners, after the shedding of so much blood, illogically found it soothing to be told that slavery had not been so bad, that the Negroes were a lovable but simple race, whose business was to work for whites. And Page also struck in his stories a note of reconciliation that everybody wanted to hear: he cooked up romances between young Northern officers, as gentlemanly as any Southerner, and spirited plantation beauties who might turn out to be the young men's cousins and who in any case would marry them after the war.

If your scared, just stay there. No sounds, no words, and no worry. I will be fine even I get hurt. I will be okay even my tears are falling down. But don't ever think I'll give up. I'll fighting until my soul is gone and then time don't forget to calling my name.

In 1999, authors Joshua Piven and David Borgenicht released The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook. Providing humorous but real-life instructions for what to do in unusually dire circumstances, the book advertised itself as “the essential companion for a perilous age.” Both frightening and funny, it offered pithy chapters on how to perform a tracheotomy, identify a bomb, land a plane, survive if your parachute fails to open, deal with a charging bull, jump from a building into a dumpster and escape from killer bees, among other things. Someone gave me a copy of The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook when it came out. I shrugged and said, “Meh.” It sold ten million copies.

Le pecore bianche fanno «Beh!», le pecore nere fanno «Meh!».

Because making mistakes, flirting with disaster and pure outright failure is how you get better. Without it, you’re stuck in a zone of mediocrity and “meh”. Sure, you probably won’t be nervous self-conscious and potentially mortifies, but you won’t be admired, either. You'll be boring.

No one molds a sculpture, invents a recipe, or designs a new building with the impulse of “Meh.” Emotions are the basis of all creativity. And resistance. So if a strong emotion comes up while working through this book, positive or negative, GO FURTHER INTO IT!

Life with Meh is chock-full of amazing discoveries, but the latest one is by far the biggest.

Life with Meh is chock-full of amazing discoveries, but the latest one is by far the biggest. I opened my fridge yesterday to find her snuggled among a bunch of Seven of them, to be precise.

think I could say without exaggerating that yesterday was the most exciting (and exhausting) day of my life. And they were So delicate, so tiny, so weird looking! How I itched to pick one up to look at it more closely, but when I got my hand too close to them, Meh didn’t like it one bit. Some of my friends were at my house with me when I discovered the babies.

You’ve interviewed sixty people who are estranged from their parents,” I stammered. “I don’t know if you have studies on it, but, um, in your experience—did the people who estranged themselves, did they feel free afterward?” “No,” Catherine said with certainty. I waited. There was nothing else. “No . . . ?” I asked, my heart sinking. “Well, if not freer . . . were they . . . happier?” Catherine munched on her cracker and shrugged. “Meh,” she said. She must have seen my unhappy expression. “Look,” she explained, “I don’t think it brought anyone joy. It didn’t make people happy to have to do it. It was just necessary. I think you just have to figure out if it’s necessary for you. I can’t tell you if you should do it or shouldn’t. All I can say is that if you do do it, you’re not alone.

My mom says It’s apparently a requirement by our government that I attend school. But I looked it up and, in this state, it’s not required until I am eight which is in three weeks, so I have been going to school for two years when I didn’t have too.” Lanie said very sternly holding up two fingers which caught the woman off guard. “So, I take it you’re not a fan of school?” the woman asks looking at this curious child in front her. “I like making friends and playing outside but the rest is meh.” Lanie said waving her hand “My brother is the one who likes school. And I am pretty sure I can find some loopholes in the government’s laws. Even though my mom says I cant.

Men typically did not notice me. I must emit the smell of meh and a second-favorite childhood shoe. I tried to wink back, managing only to squeeze both my eyes shut.

I hate sushi.” And I hate him. What kind of monster hates sushi? “I do a bit of mixed martial arts.” Meh. He’s not that bad. “And I like tea.” Okay, I take it back. He probably drinks with his pinky up, and I refuse to corrupt this guy if he’s a pinky-upper. I mean, the pinky could come in handy . . . No. Nope. I cannot like him.

Money Brings Happiness

yokomeshi [yo-ko-meh-shee] (noun) As an untranslatable, this one ranks high on my list of favorites. I could not improve on the background given by commentator Boyé Lafayette de Mente about this beautiful word, yokomeshi. Taken literally, meshi means "boiled rice" and yoko means "horizontal," so combined you get "a meal eaten sideways" This is how the Japanese define the peculiar stress induced by speaking a foreign language: yoko is a humorous reference to the fact that Japanese is normally written vertically, whereas most foreign languages are written horizontally. How do English-speakers describe the headache of communicating in an alien tongue? I don't think we can, at least not with as much ease.

leader of the Hyperakrioi tribe, father of Aristides* Mardonius (mar-DOE-nē-us) a Persian satrap, son-in-law of High King Darius, father of Ariatozah and Artontes* Megistias (meh-GIS-tē-us) an Acarnanian priest, soothsayer and physician accompanying

How do I rate books on GoodReads? 1-star = avoid 2-star = meh 3-star = worthwhile read anything > 3-stars has something special

U always think me n treat me as tympass foh uh!! But one day u will realise that the tym passed with meh was d awesome tym foh uh n u can't get it back!!

Two meh minutes of my life I’ll never see again.” Fallon snorted. “His basement couch had more of a thrill than I did.

To illustrate, let’s try this thought experiment: Tell yourself, “I’m going to make three sales calls today.” How does it feel? Most likely, it feels pretty “meh.” Now, tell yourself, “I’m going to make 50 sales calls today.” Which are you more excited to do?

Some days you’re the hammer, some days you’re the nail. Meh, who am I kidding? I’m always the nail.

Everything always changes. It is unavoidable. Some of the intensity of resonance gets lost, but it is replaced by new things. Better things.” I sit back, wiping my hands clean of blood as I take a brief pause. Thoughts of Meh-gan fill my mind and I smile to myself. “I love to hear my mate’s laugh. I love to take care of her. I do not mind when she is tired, because then I will pull her against me and hold her all night. I live to please her, and when you feel your son kick in her belly…” I spread my hands, helpless to describe the joy of it. “Everything in the world is perfect.

The wind grows bitterly cold and I wrap my fur cape around my shoulders and neck. I picture Meh-gan back in the cave, her fragile human body pinkish-blue with chills. I am not there to bundle her in thicker furs, or to get her hot tea when she is cold and too distracted to take care of herself. I feel a pang of worry; someone will think of my mate and take care of her if the cold gets to be too much, surely. The fires must be kept warm and the humans protected, especially the sweet human that carries my son.

Diräkti Ussage si meh öppis für Lüt, wo wenig Fröid am Ustuusch hei.

There are few moments in life as good as the one right before you open a present. When else is anyone so hopeful and naïve? Even after you’ve gotten enough presents in life to know that whatever’s in the box is probably not as great as you want it to be, you never really stop hoping. Or I hope you don’t. The day someone hands me a present and I think meh is the day it’s all over. If life has wrung you so dry you can’t get excited about presents, forget about it.

All the authority of the universe has been given to me.h 19Now go in my authorityi and make disciples of all nations,

Murder mystery featuring woman detective and two suicide/murder victims. Threw in three read herring suspects before the big reveal (the cuckolded wife) which I saw coming. Way too much brainstorming different scenarios by the detective and her partner. They dreamed up every possible scenario but "the Easter Bunny did it", seemingly to fill pages. Meh.

I ask him to pull the buttermilk sourdough; I'd taken several of my wet starters, fed them vigorously yesterday, and created three different dough variations early this morning, giving them time to rise. "The green bowl." "Yeah, okay," he grumbles. "And I'll take care of the onions," Xavier says. "Why do you need them?" "Ciabatta," Jude says. "Dough." I point to the door. He goes and I show Xavier the container of goat cheese. "I need something splashy. I thought a caramelized onion and Chèvre ciabatta." "Using the buttermilk starter as a base?" "I consistently get the biggest rooms with it." "You need a third ingredient, I think. Apricots?" I nod toward the other table. "Scott's going sweet already. I'll stay savory for contrast. Sun-dried tomato?" "Meh. Expected.

She shook her head. “It’s all so… I don’t know… meh. Are you going to try to stall time hoping someone will rescue you?” “Not my style.” “Good, because it would really be gauche. Don’t worry, though. It’ll all become clear soon enough.” “What will become clear?” “My plan. And I need to tell it my way. I need you to listen, Broome. If you ever had any feelings for me, you’ll try to open your mind a little here, okay?” “Do I have a choice?” “I guess not, what with me having the gun and all. But I’m tired, Broome. It’s been a good run, but it’s coming to an end. I just want… I want you to listen to me. That’s all. Let me start at the beginning and maybe you’ll see where I’m going with this, okay?” Lorraine seemed so sincere. She waited for him to answer, so he said, “Okay.

Then you're... _Pinocchio_?" "In the flesh. As opposed to the Norwegian pine." "What was that like? I mean, the change. What did it feel like?" "To be honest, not as big a deal as I was expecting. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's great not to have to worry about dry rot and termites. But the rest... meh." "Being human is meh?" "Mostly." "But you were a puppet!" "What, you think flesh-and-blood kids don't come with strings attached? Clearly, you don't know many parents." "No. Just the one, really." "And you spent your whole life trying to make him proud of you?" "Well, yes. But -" "There you go, pal. Now you see the strings.

I blinked. “I hope you get abducted by aliens.” Ivan laughed, and the sound of it made me smile. “You would miss me.” All I said, while shrugging was, “Meh. I know I’d get to see you again someday—” He smiled. “—in hell.

The man is trying to help me, and I almost punched him. Meh. He kind of deserves it.

On a scale of Meh to My Vagina is Forever Ruined, how good was he?” Fi asked.

LOW: Churn Churn is the percentage of people canceling their subscription each month, and it’s the Achilles heel that kills (or plateaus) SaaS apps. If you can keep churn low, growth is much easier. If churn is high, it’s a force that’s very hard to outrun. Focus on revenue churn. To calculate this, divide the gross MRR that canceled in a given month by the starting MRR for that month: As a general rule, for most bootstrapped B2B SaaS businesses: Gross churn > 10% = Catastrophic Gross churn 8–10% = Not Good Gross churn 6–7% = Meh Gross churn 4–5% = Fine Gross churn 2–3% = Good Gross churn < 2% = Great With this caveat: if you are focused on high-priced contracts, say, above $25,000, your churn should be lower than the chart above. In that case, I’d categorize fine churn as 2–3%, good churn as 1–2%, and great churn at or below 1%. Churn is such a critical metric because it helps you calculate when revenue will plateau. At some point, the number of new customers you acquire will equal the number of customers you churn out each month. This causes your growth rate to effectively hit zero. You’ve hit your maximum number of customers (and revenue) that you can achieve without changing something in the business.

this: At the beginning of each meeting, we would go around in a circle and say how we were doing that month. And we almost never said “good.” Okay, we said. Meh. There was always a current struggle, a friendship on the precipice, a narcissistic parent sending passive-aggressive texts. We were all deserving. Why couldn’t any of us just be good? I wished so badly for us to be good.

Money, job titles, and social status? Meh, not impressed. You can have a private jet and a penthouse, but if you treat people like dirt, you’ve lost me. What really catches my eye? How you treat others. Kindness, empathy, and a solid respect—that’s the real flex. You could be CEO of the universe, but if you’re not decent to those around you, it's just shiny nonsense. Flashy stuff fades, but being a good human? That’s the kind of "status" I care about.

What do I win if I beat you?” I asked. “A sense of accomplishment,” Marigold said with an air of sweeping confidence. “Meh.” She balked. “Meh? That’s how you describe a sense of accomplishment?” “I have a sense of accomplishment when I remember to brush my teeth before bed. The stakes need to be higher here.

Tackle the “meh” first.

Meh . . . I raise my eyebrow as I look around . . . my yacht is better.

Holy shit! I just claimed a stripper as my old woman. She doesn’t know that yet. Neither do any of my brothers. Meh, maybe Atlas does, but the rest of the guys probably think I picked up a new club bunny. News flash—this girl is too good to be anyone’s hookup. She’s fucking sunshine and rainbows in female form. There’ll be no sharing her with anyone.

Buy what you want, what gives you joy, and say no to anything that is “meh” or “maybe” or “I don’t know.

I want a boyfriend.” “Meh, they’re a lot of work,” I point out. “You have to remember to walk and feed them. Plus, if they don’t get enough exercise, they’ll start chewing up your shoes.

It’s just never done anything for me. Alcohol tastes just . . . meh. I add it into my cooking when the recipe calls for it, but I’m not the type of person who needs a beer with them while they relax for the night or tries to drink someone under the table. I don’t need alcohol to have fun. That doesn’t make me better than anyone, it just makes me, well, me.

Exactly,” Ro said. “For the record, I’m totally on Team Not-the-Daddy.” “You are?” Keefe asked. “Yup! I’ve seen the dude, remember? I mean, personally I think all of you elves are scrawny and weird-looking—but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to tell which ones of you are technically ‘prettier’ by your elf-y standards. And Councillor Pointy Ears? Meh. No way his daughter could be our little blond hottie right here.” “Unless she gets that from her mom,” Keefe reminded Ro, and part of Sophie’s brain wanted to wonder if that meant Keefe was agreeing with Ro’s “blond hottie” assessment—but that was definitely not something she needed to be thinking about at the moment. Or ever.

Write confidently and declaratively. A lot of people hesitate to “make a point” or “take a stance” when writing online because they don’t want to get criticized in the comments. As a result, their writing stands for nothing, and resonates with no one. It’s safe. It’s self-conscious. And worst of all, it’s vague. The more declarative you can be with your language, the more you will force readers to make a decision. Either they will say, “I strongly agree,” or they will say, “I strongly disagree.” Either of these responses is far better than, “Meh.

Have you ever been with a prostitute?” she asked him. “No interest,” he said. “Why not?” “Too expensive,” he said. “I’d rather spend my money on other things. Besides, I don’t think sex is all that fun anyway.” “You’re a guy and you don’t think sex is fun?” “Meh,” he said. “It’s kind of a lot of work for little reward.

We like some people, we loathe others, and we're "meh" on the rest.

whether the Mexican in question flushes his soiled toilet paper or tosses it in the trash can. Another surefire way is the ch/sh phonetic test. Proper Spanish doesn’t feature a sh sound (known among linguists as a linguapalatal fricative), so most Mexicans pronounce English words with a sh sound with the harsher ch (known as a lingualveolar affricate). However, many indigenous Mexican tongues use linguapalatal fricatives. The most famous example is in the original pronunciation of Mexico: as said in Nahuatl, the word sounds like “meh-shee-ko.” The Spaniards couldn’t pronounce the middle consonant, though, instead substituting a guttural j (as in “Meh-hee-ko”) early in the Conquest. They killed most of Mexico’s Indians in the ensuing decades, but the indigenous sh sound never wholly disappeared;

Have you ever had one of those moments where you felt as though time itself had suspended? Where you had to drag your sorry ass out of bed every morning with a mental pep talk you knew was complete drivel? Even the simplest gestures robbed you of precious energy. Dignity notwithstanding, I took comfort in the robotic voice inside my head instructing me what to do. How to perform the most basic of human functions. Time to brush your teeth. Comb your hair. Should probably feed yourself something between shots. Gym? Meh… How about jacking off in the shower instead? Nada. Not even energy for that. Ladies, we had a crisis on our hands.

to or to not that is a question duh

Suicide risk? Me? Meh.

If you want to go outside, do it. If you wanna jump off a cliff, do it. If you wanna die, do it. Do whatever you want. Nothing is stopping you.

Meh its OK not to shavvy.

Ryan chuckles. “Peenie is gonna show his peen? Wow, how meta.” “Meh, it’s just skin,” Keane says. “Yeah, foreskin,” Ryan says, and everyone laughs. “Do me a favor and show your balls, too,” I say to Keane. “You do that, and Mom would thank me for only showing my bare ass and simulating graphic fucking on a beach.” “I’ll tell my agent to put it in my contract,” Keane says. “Just for you.” “Thanks.

The most dangerous customers aren't your haters; they are the "meh" in the middle, the dissatisfied customers who don't take the time to complain.