Nerd Glasses Quotes

Above the stage was a glass-floored second stage, which allowed customers to look up and watch another girl dancing overhead. This multidimensional display of poontang reminded me of the 3-D chessboard on Star Trek, which in turn reminded me that I was a huge nerd.

His voice gentled and his touch became more like a caress. "I love you," he whispered. "Romeo..." "I love your glasses, your clumsiness, your wild hair, even the way you snort when you laugh." He smiled. "I love you in spite of yourself, Rim. Can't you love me in spite of myself?" I couldn't help it, I smiled. "You do come with a lot of baggage." I sighed. "You're impossibly good-looking, terrible at math, and you like to drink that swill you call beer." I mock shuddered. He smiled, but I saw the relief in his eyes. "Me being good-looking is a bad thing?" he teased. "You have a lot of options," I said seriously. "I'm not the best one." "No." He agreed. "You're not." Geez, he could have said it a little nicer. "You're the only one." Oh, well, that was much better. - Romeo & Rimmel

Gert: What... what just happened? Chase: I don't know, but guess who totally stole Cookie Monster's glasses! Gert: Whew, for a second there, I was worried we almost learned something. Chase: Ooo, look at me! I'm a big fluffy nerd!

Suddenly, the world I had scrutinised for so long was all around me, as if I had leaned forward and climbed into the television like Alice through the looking-glass. I had no idea just how deep the rabbit hole would go.

He wore classic nerd glasses, with frames that were dark at the top and clear at the bottom. In spite of his studious appearance, he was actually fairly good-looking.

The Proclaimers thunder through my head. Imagine it. Imagine killing someone to the tune of two Scottish nerds wearing glasses and flattop haircuts. How will I ever listen to that song again? What will I do if it comes on the radio? I'll think of the night I murdered another man and stole his life with my own hands.

Ten Best Song to Strip 1. Any hip-swiveling R&B fuckjam. This category includes The Greatest Stripping Song of All Time: "Remix to Ignition" by R. Kelly. 2. "Purple Rain" by Prince, but you have to be really theatrical about it. Arch your back like Prince himself is daubing body glitter on your abdomen. Most effective in nearly empty, pathos-ridden juice bars. 3. "Honky Tonk Woman" by the Rolling Stones. Insta-attitude. Makes even the clumsiest troglodyte strut like Anita Pallenberg. (However, the Troggs will make you look like even more of a troglodyte, so avoid if possible.) 4. "Pour Some Sugar on Me" by Def Leppard. The Lep's shouted choruses and relentless programmed drums prove ideal for chicks who can really stomp. (Coincidence: I once saw a stripper who, like Rick Allen, had only one arm.) 5. "Amber" by 311. This fluid stoner anthem is a favorite of midnight tokers at strip joints everywhere. Mellow enough that even the most shitfaced dancer can make it through the song and back to her Graffix bong without breaking a sweat. Pass the Fritos Scoops, dude. 6. "Miserable" by Lit, but mostly because Pamela Anderson is in the video, and she's like Jesus for strippers (blonde, plastic, capable of parlaying a broken nail into a domestic battery charge, damaged liver). Alos, you can't go wrong stripping to a song that opens with the line "You make me come." 7. "Back Door Man" by The Doors. Almost too easy. The mere implication that you like it in the ass will thrill the average strip-club patron. Just get on all fours and crawl your way toward the down payment on that condo in Cozumel. (Unless, like most strippers, you'd rather blow your nest egg on tacky pimped-out SUVs and Coach purses.) 8. Back in Black" by AC/DC. Producer Mutt Lange wants you to strip. He does. He told me. 9. "I Touch Myself" by the Devinyls. Strip to this, and that guy at the tip rail with the bitch tits and the shop teacher glasses will actually believe that he alone has inspired you to masturbate. Take his money, then go masturbate and think about someone else. 10. "Hash Pipe" by Weezer. Sure, it smells of nerd. But River Cuomo is obsessed with Asian chicks and nose candy, and that's just the spirit you want to evoke in a strip club. I recommend busting out your most crunk pole tricks during this one.

I jumped up from the bed and paced the small space in front of Romeo. He was absolutely nuts. "Why the hell would you do that?" I asked. Then I stubbed my toe on the edge of my desk. "Ow!" I hissed and doubled over while bouncing around on one foot. "You're like a one-woman show," Romeo remarked from behind me. His voice was clearly amused. "I need my glasses," I muttered, hopping around and reaching for them somewhere near my bed. I knocked something over and it fell to the floor. "Whoa there, graceful," Romeo said and scooped me up in his arms. I let out a little squeak in surprise. "Put me down." "No," he said mildly. "You are a danger to yourself." I made a hmph sound and he snickered. - Rimmel & Romeo

ROMEO: I love you. RIMMEL: Romeo... ROMEO: I love your glasses, your clumsiness, your wild hair, even the way you snort when you laugh. (He smiled) I love you in spite of yourself, Rim. Can't you love me in spite of myself?

Kurt Michaels was smart, charming, and handsome. He told dad jokes and wore sexy cardigans and hot nerd glasses. Total dad material. Unlike some others who were just “daddy” material.

The nerd gets a makeover, and without her glasses, she’s smoking hot.

I plaster my face to the glass. Who cares about germs when giant sparkly heart earrings are at stake?

She said my glasses made me look like a butch jock's locker room bitch.

Finally, for the same criminal conviction, the more stereotypically Af-rican a black individual’s facial features, the longer the sentence.15 In contrast, juries view black (but not white) male defendants more favorably if they’re wearing big, clunky glasses; some defense attorneys even exploit this “nerd defense” by accessorizing their clients with fake glasses, and prosecuting attorneys ask whether those dorky glasses are real. In other words, when blind, impartial justice is supposedly being administered, jurors are unconsciously biased by racial stereotypes of someone’s face.

She called me Nerdy because I wore glasses and read books and ate yogurt on my lunch break. I'm not really a nerd: I only aspire to be one. Because of the high-school-dropout thing, I'm a self-didact. (Not a dirty word, look it up.) I read constantly. I think. But I lack formal education. So I'm left with the feeling that I'm smarter than everyone around me but that if I ever got around really smart people - people who went to universities and drank wine and spoke Latin - that they'd be bored as hell by me. It's a lonely way to go through life. So I wear the name as a badge of honor. That someday I may not totally bore some really smart people. The question is: How do you find smart people?

If you were casting the part of the evil scientist who would prove the Caped Crusader's deadliest nemesis, you'd likely glance at the headshot of German-born psychiatrist Dr. Fredric Wertham, with his owl-like glasses and severe Prussian features, and think, "Nah, too on-the-nose.

I gape at Peter, who’s in shorts, his t-shirt completely soaked, bouncing the basketball. He stops at the sound of my voice turning to me. And holy shit. The nerd alert himself is missing his pocket protector and glasses. His shirt, which is practically see though, shows off his pecks. He stops dribbling and, with his free hand, he takes the hem of his shirt and lifts it, using it to wipe the buildup of sweat from his face. Fuck. Me. Of course, Nerd Alert has a solid six pack. “You okay over there? You look like you haven’t eaten in days, licking your lips like that.

Mother Mary, help me. You are not bisexual. You're just a confused straight dude.” Spencer looks down at me, and I glance back, meeting his eyes. He narrows them on me, and I grin sheepishly. “He's probably right,” I tell him, reaching up to push my glasses up the bridge of my nose. “You should just leave me alone, and find a nice girl at the party.” “I've had plenty of nice girls,” he says in a way that makes me bristle like a porcupine. “Not to mention naughty ones. I want to try …” He pauses and chokes on his words for a second. “Dating introverted nerd boys instead.

Finally, for the same criminal conviction, the more stereotypically African a black individual’s facial features, the longer the sentence.15 In contrast, juries view black (but not white) male defendants more favorably if they’re wearing big, clunky glasses; some defense attorneys even exploit this “nerd defense” by accessorizing their clients with fake glasses, and prosecuting attorneys ask whether those dorky glasses are real. In other words, when blind, impartial justice is supposedly being administered, jurors are unconsciously biased by racial stereotypes of someone’s face.

During homeroom, before first period, I start a bucket list in one of my notebooks. First on the list? 1) Eat in the cafeteria. Sit with people. TALK TO THEM. 2) And…that’s all I can come up with for now. But this is good. One task to work on. No distractions. I can do this. When my lunch period rolls around, I forgo the safety of my bag lunch and the computer lab and slip into the pizza line, wielding my very own tray of semi-edible fare for the first time in years. “A truly remarkable sight.” Jensen cuts into line beside me, sliding his tray next to mine on the ledge in front of us. He lifts his hands and frames me with his fingers, like he’s shooting a movie. “In search of food, the elusive creature emerges from her den and tries her luck at the watering hole." I shake my head, smiling, moving down the line. “Wow, Peters. I never knew you were such a huge Animal Planet fan.” “I’m a fan of all things nature. Birds. Bees. The like.” He grabs two pudding cups and drops one on my tray. “Pandas?” I say. “How did you know? The panda is my spirit animal.” “Oh, good, because Gran has this great pattern for an embroidered panda cardigan. It would look amazing on you.” “Um, yeah, I know. It was on my Christmas list, but Santa totally stiffed me." I laugh as I grab a carton of milk. So does he. He leans in closer. “Come sit with me.” “At the jock table? Are you kidding?” I hand the cashier my lunch card. Jensen squints his eyes in the direction of his friends. “We’re skinny-ass basketball players, Wayfare. We don’t really scream jock.” “Meatheads, then?” “I believe the correct term is Athletic Types.” We step out from the line and scan the room. “So where were you planning on sitting?" “I was thinking Grady and Marco were my safest bet.” “The nerd table?” I gesture to myself, especially my glasses. “I figure my natural camouflage will help me blend, yo.” He laughs, his honey-blond hair falling in front of his eyes. “And hey,” I say, nudging him with my elbow, “last I heard, Peters was cool with nerdy.” He claps me gently on the back. “Good luck, Wayfare. I’m pulling for ya.

She stared, wide eyed as glass-walled elevators shot up fifty-two floors like pods in a launch tube. Everything - from the glaringly bright carpet swirling with psychedelic lines; to the hotel's open ceiling ringed by storey after storey of balconies, the distant roof so high it made her head spin; to the people decked out in cosplay - was torn from a science fiction novel. It seemed Liv had spent the last eighteen years in search of her people, and in one sudden explosion of fate, they'd all been brought together in this place in time. Her eyes filled with tears as a sudden awareness filled her. They were all nerds.

Jesus doesn’t approve of my hedonistic lifestyle. We’re incompatible. You may look at me and see a well-dressed nerd. But behind the tweed jacket and bowtie and Harry Potter glasses is a man full of ugly vices,” Ross confessed. “That makes you a perfect candidate to be friends with Jesus. When he walked on earth he often hung out with rich men and prostitutes, as well as misfits, outcasts, lepers and the destitute. And he tended to shy away from people who thought they were faultless.” “You make Jesus sound like a party animal,” Ross said. Rafter grinned. “He sort of was. He caused a stir wherever he went. Jesus performed his first miracle at a wedding feast when he turned water into wine. And then he really shook things up when he caused the sun to stop shining and the earth to quake on the first Good Friday.

You asked me who I’d been seeing? The mystery guy?” “Ohhhhhh.” Emily’s eyes lit up at the promise of early morning gossip. “Why, yes. I do remember that.” Emily rested her chin on her hands, settling in for my story. “I don’t think you need me for this.” Simon threw up defensive hands and went into the kitchen in search of coffee. I gave him a thin smile of appreciation that he didn’t see, then I turned back to Emily and, for the first time, spilled the whole story. Of being so lonely I couldn’t handle it anymore. Of drinking one glass of wine too many and sending that first message to Dex. His response. Our emails. Texts. And realizing last night that it had all been a lie. “So . . .” While I’d been talking Emily refilled our coffee mugs, and now she sat down again, staring hard at my laptop. “All this time you thought it was Dex, but it was Daniel writing to you instead?” “Exactly.” I nodded emphatically. “Are you kidding me?” I jumped at Simon’s voice, harsher, angrier than I was used to hearing him. He was back, leaning against the archway again, his own mug of coffee in his hands. “What kind of Cyrano de Bergerac bullshit is that?” Emily clucked her tongue and turned in her chair. “I don’t know about that,” she said. “Of course it is!” He gestured to my laptop. “Look, I’ve known the Dueling Kilts for years. They’ve played the Faire since . . . well, I think since the first year we started hiring outside acts. And they’re great guys. But there’s no way that Dex MacLean could string together a coherent sentence, much less an elaborate email.” “Hey.” I felt a lick of defensive anger for the hottie I’d hooked up with. But then I thought about it and, well, Simon wasn’t wrong. Hadn’t I thought something similar when I’d first started hearing from Dex? Daniel? Who-the-hell-ever? “Okay, yeah,” I said. “That’s fair.” Simon’s smile wasn’t unkind as he finished his point. “Which means he got Daniel to write those emails for him. And that’s classic Cyrano.” “Yeah, but what about the texts?” Emily picked up my phone and waved it at him. “Daniel was using his own phone number. You think Dex was standing over his shoulder, telling him what to say?” “He could have been.” “I don’t think so. Besides, in the original play, Cyrano and Christian were both in love with Roxane, but Cyrano sacrificed his chance to be with her because he thought she loved Christian more. But we don’t know if that’s the case here. Maybe Daniel . . .” “What the hell is wrong with you two?” I closed my laptop with a snap and took my phone back from Emily. “You’re both nerds, you know that? In this century we don’t go straight for a Cyrano reference. We call it catfishing.” Simon snorted, and Emily bit down on her bottom lip, but amusement danced in her eyes. “Well, yeah. That’s true. But Simon does have a point.” “Of course I do.” He blew across the top of his mug before taking a sip. I narrowed my eyes at him. “Don’t you have sets to finish painting?

You know She's All That-ing: it's that ancient African tradition wherein an unremarkable nerd transforms into a beautiful hottie just in time for the prom, usually by combing their hair and taking off their glasses. I didn't even have glasses! I was halfway to hot already!

So, Griffin and I got drinks and clinked our glasses.” Musk sat in the row in front of them, typing on his computer. “We’re thinking, Fucking nerd. What can he be doing now?” At which point Musk wheeled around and flashed a spreadsheet he’d created. “Hey, guys,” he said, “I think we can build this rocket ourselves.

Dayton gave him another one of his withering gazes, those soft brown eyes roaming over his body and back again. He might have looked like a nerd, with those thick glasses and bony frame, but there was something more masculine about him than Boone had expected at first glance.

Seriously, just pretend I'm not here." He walks us into the kitchen and bends to look in refrigerator, making me grip tighter. He fills a glass and I press my ear to his neck to listen to him swallow I tighten my legs around him, and he slides a hand to my butt and squeezes it once in a friendly way. Then he gives it a slap. "Ow, what's in your pocket?" "Oh." I remember now and feel like a nerd. I slither down to my feet. "It's nothing." "It hurt my hand." He pulls the lumpy shape out of my pocket and cranes to see what he's found. "It's a Smurf. Of course. What else would you fill your pockets with? Why does it have a bow on it?" "I have, like, ten of him. It's Grouchy Smurf.

You did a fine job with those science nerds over the course of this past year, John. Very fine job. Nothing but praise from the lot of them. Well done.” His thick English accent had a soothing effect every time he spoke. John remembered him fondly as a young man. His father and the Admiral had gone to the academy together and served side by side for many years before John’s father met an untimely death. Sitting here with him now and listening to him speak brought him back to those simpler times. “I was just doing my duty, Sir.” “Oh come now. You know and I know that there isn’t a bloody captain in this entire fleet that wanted that assignment. There isn’t a bit of action when you have the lot of them aboard. And on a bloody science mission besides. No, no, you are a real hero for saving all of us from having to do such a duty. And for a year! Bloody hell.” He opened up a drawer and pulled out two thick, stubby glasses, and then extracted a bottle of rum. Of course he brought out the rum. “I suppose you heard that we’ve been hard at work getting our first Deep Space Class starship ready to launch this year?” he asked as he filled both glasses half full with the amber liquid. He Offered one glass to John who took it with reluctance. He had never been one who liked liquor. “Heard she’s a beauty. The engine is something of a marvel as well?” “Damn straight,” he said as he downed his first glass in one pull. He filled his glass up half full for round two. “Currently our fastest ship will get you to the Wild Space region in twenty years. This buggers going to do it in six months and I’d like you to take her out on her maiden voyage.” John sat back in shock. The thought of taking out the prototype of the future… it was a great honor and one that hundreds of captains in star fleet would give anything for. He certainly wasn’t worthy of such an honor. He didn’t have nearly the amount of years as everyone else in the fleet. “I don’t think it’d be right to accept, would it? I mean… there are some captains who’ve…” “Bumshnickles!” he shouted. “Your father was the captain of the first Earth Starship Independence. It’s only right that the second to bear her name should have an Avery in the chair.

It's clear that glasses have gone from nerd necessity to chic accessory

Kole’s head pops up from a table near the door as I enter, and … whoa. Kole’s wearing glasses. Black, square ones that frame his eyes, and all my blood flows south. If you’d asked me two seconds ago if I had a nerd kink, the answer would have been hell no, because someone like Foster’s boyfriend, Zach, would have come to mind. But this … tall, chiseled features, and glasses? I’ve found my new weakness

The second I step into The Phoenix, Zelda hits me with another one of those stupid glares of hers. Well, I’m not one to keep things bottled up. The question is out before the bell over the door stops ringing. “Why, why, why do you keep looking at me like that?” She glances at the others around her like she doesn’t know full well I’m talking to her. “Who? Me?” She puts a dainty hand to her chest. I go into a long speech as I walk down the center aisle of the shop. “Cut the innocent act. You’re up to something. Every time I see you, you either look at me like you want me to burst into flames or like you know a secret about me. But the thing is, I’m an open book, I have no secrets. So, either you really do want me to burst into flames or you have, like, eye Tourette’s. Like you don’t have control over them. And if that were the case, then why have I never seen you randomly cross your eyes or blink rapidly?” Her brows knit together and her lips purse. Then her face relaxes and she freaking crosses her eyes. She turns to everyone else. “I have no idea what this guy is talking about.” They all laugh way too hard for my liking. Logan crosses his eyes, too. “Dude, are you okay? Do you need a glass of water? Maybe a cup of tea?” “Ha ha, it’s all so funny, but I’m serious!” My arms fling out in exasperation. “She’s up to something.” Zelda shakes her head and scoffs. “Whatever, Dan.

I don’t care who knows, babe. It sucks not being able to be near you like I want to just ’cause Dre or Nicky might be watching. You hafta know I wanna kiss you, like, all the damn time.” “Why?” Jesse wasn’t fishing for compliments. He really didn’t understand. “You actually mean that?” Jesse nodded his head miserably. Shane lifted his chin. “Because you’re smart, and funny, and I can’t even hear a single note you sing without getting all turned on…and, well, because I’m falling for you. Like, hard.” Shane’s forehead wrinkled, his eyes went puppy-dog droopy. “Don’t you feel the same way about me?” Shane’s sudden insecurity was sweet and sad and so very endearing. “Of course I do. But you’re Shane. I’m just…” A nerd. Ugly, squishy, pale, and too damn blind to get rid of these dumb ass glasses. “There is no ‘just’ anything. Jess, you’re my boyfriend. Right?