Mickey Mouse Love Quotes

I love Mickey Mouse more than any woman I have ever known.

Girls bored me - they still do. I love Mickey Mouse more than any woman I've ever known

Nothing could be taken for granted. Women who loved you tried to cut your throat, while women who didn't even know your name scrubbed your back. Witches could sound like Katharine Hepburn and your best friend could try to strangle you. Smack in the middle of an orchid there might be a blob of jello and inside a Mickey Mouse doll, a fixed and radiant star.

If we found a ticket to Disneyland would you think we should arrest Mickey Mouse?

Still hanging on to your Mickey mouse ears at age 50? Hope someone loves you enough to take you to your psychiatrist

We could’ve even made the thrones six inches tall. Personally, I would have loved to see that. A demigod hero straggles into our presence after some horrible quest, takes a knee before an assembly of miniature gods, and Zeus squeaks in a Mickey Mouse voice, Welcome to Olympus!

People were encouraged to wear their gas masks for thirty minutes a day, so that they would grow accustomed to their use. Children took part in gas-attack drills. “All the little children of five have Mickey Mouse gas-masks,” wrote Diana Cooper in her diary. “They love putting them on for drill and at once start trying to kiss each other, then they march into their shelter singing: ‘There’ll always be an England.

In shelters, the danger posed by poison gas was a particular concern. People were encouraged to wear their gas masks for thirty minutes a day, so that they would grow accustomed to their use. Children took part in gas-attack drills. "All the little children of five have Mickey Mouse gasmasks," wrote Diana Cooper in her diary. "They love putting them on for drill and at once start trying to kiss each other, then they march into their shelter singing: 'There'll always be an England.

Do you ever think about it? About nothingness. I do, I think about it all the time. Because of course it’s nothingness that awaits us. Of course it is. If it weren’t why would our hearts keep pumping any longer than they had to? Why wouldn’t we all emerge into the world pure and innocent, and then before we had a chance to get in any trouble, before we had a chance to take our first oily shit, just immediately shut down our systems and head straight to the hereafter? If there were a better life after death, why bother getting fitter for survival’s sake? Why would evolution even be a thing? Why fight for something second best? If death was really awesome, in a life or death situation, our bodies wouldn’t muscle up with epinephrine and cortisol. Our brains would hit us up instead with sloppy, sleepy happy love. Hannibal Lecter would be our Mickey Mouse. No, there’s fuckall to look forward to. Our bodies understand this. The real problem is, it’s unbearable to know this. So we cope.

On TV I loved Mickey Mouse, but when I met the actual real-life Mickey, or rather, his impersonator, and he tried to hug me in his warm, fuzzy suit, I recoiled in fear.

Make please with the cheese,” he demanded. “But snappy.” “You want some snappy cheese?” Jack inquired. “I do not care what kind of teeth the cheese is using,” Feep asserted. “Just so there is plenty of it. Let it be long and strong. Let it be mean and green. Let it be old with mould. But bring me lots of plenty in a fast hurry.” Jack scribbled his order and shuffled away. Lefty Feep turned and I saw his beady eyes were unstrung. “Cheese,” he whispered reverently. “Limburger with real limbs! Thick brick! I love it. Swiss is bliss. Cheddar is better. Camembert is the nerts!” I stared. “What’s the matter?” I asked. “You sound like a cross between Ogden Nash and Mickey Mouse. Since when did you develop such a passion for cheese?” “It is not all for me,” Feep explained. “I take some of it to a friend of mine.” “Are you hanging around with a bunch of rats?” Feep shook his head. “I do not see Gorilla Gabface for weeks,” he declared. “Then what in the world —” I began, but didn’t finish. For

I remember the time on the school bus back before anyone could drive, Jenny bet me a dollar, to put my hand down her jeans to prove she wears thong undies. Saying that I am such a baby, for not knowing, that’s how that all started, she felt like she had to teach me everything. Anyways back then I was still where Mickey Mouse Briefs and did even think about what was underneath. She beat me to feel that she was not a virgin, that she was all open and smooth, unlike me at the time. I didn’t even shave my legs yet. So, I did, I went for it. The rush here was touching a girl inappropriately, with everyone looking, and hoping the driver didn’t see. I’ll never forget Danny Hover looking over the site with Andrea Doeskin smelling, like little perv’s, and Shy saying- ‘Oh my God’- snickering at the fact, from the set accordingly. Yeah, it’s that kind of rush I get, over and over being with them. Just like Jenny got Liv fixed up with Dilco, it’s all about the rush in the end. Jenny can be a hell of a lot of fun, and it’s that fun that keeps me coming back for more, the same way Liv and Maddie do, and other girls keep trying to be like us, it’s all about the craziness. I don’t know why but when I am with them- I want to be so naughty! I remember Marcel smacking my butt, just to be cute, every time he would see me in the hallways of a school. -Yeah, he’s weird, but I couldn’t stop thinking about him as I was- well… doing me. Yet Ray’s photo was looking at me on my nightstand. ~*~ In my bed, I snap the bright light off when I hear my little sis coming down the hall, everyone goes back to being fuzzy, like I’m not looking at my room but only at a blurry photo of my room that was taken with a shaky hand incorrectly and nothing match up with the real thing. My sis went into the bathroom next door to tinkle, so I snapped on my nightlight, and then that light modifies everything, so it looks somewhat ordinary again. If my sis sees my light on from the crack at the bottom of my door, she will come bursting in. I have learned to keep it as dark as I can when I hear her coming run down the hallway. I love her, yet I want my privacy. All at once it comes back to me, like a hangover rush all my blood starts going back up into my head: the party, my sis getting laid, the argument with Ray, falling to Marcel, all the sex, all the drinking, and drugs, it’s all thumping hard in my brain, like my covered button was a few moments ago, on cam. I am still lying here uncovered, with everything still out in the open. ‘Kellie!’ My door swings open, hammering the door handle against my wall, and sis comes bolting across my room, jumping in my bed, pacing over my textbook's notebooks, love notes, and pills of dirty tops and bottoms and discarded jeans, I panic thinking my Victoria’s Secret Heritage Pink nighty way over there on the floor, where I thought it off and left it the night before. Yet it’s not liked my sis has not seen me naked before… but is wired when this happens. Something is not right, something seems very wrong and oggie; something skirts the edges of my memory, but then it is gone as my head pounds and sis is bouncing on my bed on top of me, throwing her arms and legs around my nude torso. Saying- ‘So what are you going to show me today?’ I am thinking to myself- girl you already got it down, doing what you’re doing now, I don’t need to teach you anything. Kellie- she is so hot… (Oh God not in that way, she’s- my sis.) She is like a little furnace with her worth coming from her tiny body. It’s not too long before her nighty rides up, and I can see it all in my face like she wants to be just like me, and then she starts asking her questions.

The documentary “Hitler's Private World: Revealed,” shows him talking animatedly about his love for cinema (his tastes included Mickey Mouse).

If handed an actual basketball, I would instantly cry. For me, doing sports was like meeting the Disney characters at Disney World. On TV I loved Mickey Mouse, but when I met the actual real-life Mickey, or rather his impersonator, and he tried to hug me in his warm fuzzy suit, I recoiled in fear.

Can I ask you a question?” he asks as we complete our first loop on the train. “Okay,” I say, warily, not sure what to expect from him at this point. I mean, he arranged a date that I had no idea about. The possibilities here are endless. “You’re writing this big love story,” he says, his arm casually slung over my shoulder. “What do you think love is?” I can’t help the laugh that escapes. “What?” he asks. “That’s not a question, that’s thequestion,” I say, shaking my head at him. “Okay,” he starts again. “Can I ask you the question?” I look at him for a minute, trying to think if I’m ready to answer this question considering all the things that are happening right now. “Do you know who my favourite fictional character is?” I ask him instead. He shakes his head. “Mr. Darcy,” I answer. “He’s every girl’s favourite character,” Travis says. “And there is a reason why,” I say. “Mr. Darcy was a self-important man. He met Elizabeth Bennet and immediately dismissed her because she didn’t fit into the life that he was comfortable with. Once he got to know her, he discovered that what he should have wanted and what he actually wanted were two completely different things.” “That’s every chick flick I’ve ever watched,” Travis says as he we pass the bumper cars again. “Yes, but here’s the kicker. Hechanges. Not because Elizabeth wants him to, or tells him to. He changes because he wants to be a different person, a better person. Someone who is worthy of her. And in order to do that he has to act in a selfless way with absolutely no hope of reward,” I say, and I know my voice has taken on a slightly dreamy tone. “That’s what I think love is. Loving someone who makes you want to be a better person.” As we make the final turn and the train comes to a stop, Travis still hasn’t said anything. I lightly laugh. “At least I hope that’s what love is. I dart my eyes in Travis’s direction, expecting him to be a little uncomfortable with my declaration, but his face is soft and he seems pleased with my answer. As we stand in line waiting to get on the Merry-Go-Round I turn to him. “So, who is your favourite fictional couple?” I ask. Travis seems to think about it, scrunching up his mouth with the effort. “Mickey and Minnie,” he nods decisively. “As in Mouse?” I laugh. “They like each other, they’re nice to each other, and they always look like they’re having a fun time,” he says, shrugging at his explanation. And the more I think about it, it’s actually a pretty good choice. I mean, obviously it isn’t Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, but it has some worth.

Do you ever think about it, about nothingness? I do, I think about it all the time. Because of course it's nothingness that awaits us. *Of course* it is. If it weren't, why would our hearts keep pumping any longer than they had to? Why wouldn't we all emerge into the world, pure and innocent, and then, before we had a chance to get into any trouble - before we even had a chance to take our first, oily shit - just immediately shut down our systems and head straight to the hereafter? If there were a better life after death, why bother getting fitter for survival's sake? Why would evolution even be a thing? Why fight for something second best? If death was *really* awesome, in a life-or-death situation, our bodies wouldn't muscle up with epinephrine and cortisol, our brains would hit us up instead with sloppy sleepy happy love. Hannibal Lecter would be our Mickey Mouse. No. There's fuck-all to look forward to. Our bodies understand this. The real problem is, it's unbearable to *know* this.

Do you ever think about it, about nothingness? I do, I think about it all the time. Because of course it's nothingness that awaits us. *Of course* it is. If it weren't, why would our hearts keep pumping any longer than they had to? Why wouldn't we all emerge into the world, pure and innocent, and then, before we had a chance to get into any trouble - before we even had a chance to take out first, oily shit - just immediately shut down our systems and head straight to the hereafter? If there were a better life after death, why bother getting fitter for survival's sake? Why would evolution even be a thing? Why fight for something second best? If death was *really* awesome, in a life-or-death situation, our bodies wouldn't muscle up with epinephrine and cortisol, our brains would hit us up instead with sloppy sleepy happy love. Hannibal Lecter would be our Mickey Mouse. No. There's fuck-all to look forward to. Our bodies understand this. The real problem is, it's unbearable to *know* this.

It’s always a party. At six a.m., he bounds out of bed, juggles eggs, whips OJ, makes pancakes shaped like Mickey Mouse or the alphabet. He sings, he dances. He leads the kids in jumping jacks. I roll over, hoping he’ll close the door behind him.” —Lucy, West Hempstead, NY

This second weekend retreat wasn’t at a lovely mountain meditation center. It was in a day-care center where we hung sheets over the walls in a vain attempt to cover up the ABCs and Mickey Mouse figures. The air was stuffy in spite of the roaring, rattling air conditioners. The rug under our sitting mats was hopelessly stained and faded from years of small children and their accidents. Trucks roared up and down the busy highway outside the building every few minutes. I cringed at the prospect of two days shut up in this place.

Similarly harmless are the albums by Lil' Romeo... Only you will know whether you want to listen to an album by an eleven-year-old rapper. "It's teen-age music, but it's also adult appealing," the biography on Lil' Romeo's Web site claims, but this seems extravagently hopeful, because it's hard to imagine that anyone in his teens would swallow this stuff, and it certainly didn't appeal to this particular adult. The intro features a version of "Frere Jacques;" track two is effectively a rap version of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star;" and "Somebody's in Love" contains the line "Be my Mickey Mouse, and I'll be your Minnie.