Nosey Quotes

And let’s face it people, no one is ever honest with you about child birth. Not even your mother.       “It’s a pain you forget all about once you have that sweet little baby in your arms.”     Bullshit.   I CALL BULLSHIT.   Any friend, cousin, or nosey-ass stranger in the grocery store that tells you it’s not that bad is a lying sack of shit.   Your vagina is roughly the size of the girth of a penis.   It has to stretch and open andturn into a giant bat cave so the life-sucking human you’ve been growing for nine months can angrily claw its way out.   Who in their right mind would do that willingly?   You’re just walking along one day and think to yourself, “You know, I think it’s time I turn my vagina into an Arby’s Beef and Cheddar (minus the cheddar) and saddle myself down for a minimum of eighteen years to someone who will suck the soul and the will to live right out of my body so I’m a shell of the person I used to be and can’t get laid even if I pay for it.

There are two good reasons to put your napkin in your lap. One is that food might spill in your lap, and it is better to stain the napkin than your clothing. The other is that it can serve as a perfect hiding place. Practically nobody is nosey enough to take the napkin off a lap to see what is hidden there.

Well, perhaps you’re right, Miss Blacklock, but my own diagnosis would be a severe attack of Nosey Parkeritis …

I'm sorry," I said. "It's none of my business what you do. The trouble is, I'm a writer, and most writers are terrible nosey parkers.

Fate. I bloody hate Fate. He’s such a nosey bastard.

The trouble is, I'm writer, and most writers are terrible nosey parkers.

Dad used to say lots of funny things - like he was speaking his own language sometimes. Twenty-three skidoo, salad days, nosey parker, bandbox fresh, the catbird seat, chocolate teapot, and something about Grandma sucking eggs. One of his favourites was 'safe as houses'. Teaching me to ride a bike, my mother worrying in the doorway: "Calm down, Linda, this street is as safe as houses." Convincing Jamie to sleep without his nightlight: "It's as safe as houses in here, son, not a monster for miles." Then overnight the world turned into a hideous nightmare, and the phrase became a black joke to Jamie and me. Houses were the most dangerous places we knew. Hiding in a patch of scrubby pines, watching a car pull out from the garage of a secluded home, deciding whether to make a food run, whether it was too dicey. "Do you think the parasites'll be long gone?" "No way - that place is as safe as houses. Let's get out of here." And now I can sit here and watch TV like it is five years ago and Mom and Dad are in the other room and i've never spent a night hiding in a drainpipe with Jamie and a bunch of rats while bodysnatchers with spotlights search for the thieves who made off with a bag of dried beans and a bowl of cold spaghetti. I know that if Jamie and I survived alone for twenty years we would never find this feeling on our own. The feeling of safety. More than safety, even - happiness. Safe and happy, two things I thought i'd never feel again. Jared made us feel that way without trying, just be being Jared. I breathe in the scent of his skin and feel the warmth of his body under mine. Jared makes everything safe, everything happy. Even houses.

Talking with you and seeing the world through your eyes that night was different, from the very first words you said to me.” Sylvie cringed. “Was there something particularly appealing about, ‘Get lost, you nosey gutter-crawler’?” “That, and the rotten apple you threw at me. That doesn’t happen to a king very often.

• A good trick is to fill your medicine cabinet with marbles. Nothing announces a nosey guest better than an avalanche of marbles hitting a porcelain sink. Plus you’ll know which guest is a junkie whore or gutter hype, and you’ll know what else to hide. Count your stash or remove the labels from your prescription bottles.

I can't drop it. It's how I'm drawn.

I Googled it all.” Dortmunder had heard of this; some other nosey parker way to mind everybody else’s business.

This is a love story,” Michael Dean says, ”but really what isn’t? Doesn’t the detective love the mystery or the chase, or the nosey female reporter who is even now being held against her wishes at an empty warehouse on the waterfront? Surely, the serial murder loves his victims, and the spy loves his gadgets, or his country or the exotic counterspy. The ice-trucker is torn between his love for ice and truck and the competing chefs go crazy for scallops, and the pawnshop guys adore their junk. Just as the housewives live for catching glimpses of their own botoxed brows in gilded hall mirrors and the rocked out dude on ‘roids totally wants to shred the ass of the tramp-tatted girl on hookbook. Because this is reality, they are all in love, madly, truly, with the body-mic clipped to their back-buckle and the producer casually suggesting, “Just one more angle.”, “One more jello shot.”. And the robot loves his master. Alien loves his saucer. Superman loves Lois. Lex and Lana. Luke loves Leia, til he finds out she’s his sister. And the exorcist loves the demon, even as he leaps out the window with it, in full soulful embrace. As Leo loves Kate, and they both love the sinking ship. And the shark, god the shark, loves to eat. Which is what the Mafioso loves too, eating and money and Pauly and Omertà. The way the cowboy loves his horse, loves the corseted girl behind the piano bar and sometimes loves the other cowboy. As the vampire loves night and neck. And the zombie, don’t even start with the zombie, sentimental fool, has anyone ever been more love-sick than a zombie, that pale dull metaphor for love, all animal craving and lurching, outstretched arms. His very existence a sonnet about how much he wants those brains. This, too is a love story.

The lights are on in the concierge’s cabin. Of course: that nosey old bitch never misses a trick. Creeping out from shadowy corners. Always watching, always there. Looking at you like she knows all your secrets.

today, i am a black woman in a body of coal i am always burning and no one knows my name i am a nameless fury, i am a blues scratched from the throat of ms. nina—i am always angry i am always a bumble hive of hello i love like this too loudly, my neighbors think i am an unforgiving bitter sometimes, i think my neighbors are right most times i think my neighbors are nosey

know.” “But please, we don’t know very much yet,” said a nosey and snorty kind of voice. And that really did make the children jump, for it was the cab-horse who had spoken.

Aren't you...Feeling Nosey???

I'm the official unofficial reporter.

I think I’ll always be a nosey bitch.

cash-register lady at the Piggly Wiggly, Mrs. Singletary, who had recently taken to teaching Kya the difference between quarters, nickels, and dimes—she already knew about pennies. But Mrs. Singletary could also get nosey.

-- HOUSE! That's-you-Mark. He's-goat-hoose. OWER-HERE! Wis-nae-eve-in-gaunn-ae-shout-oot. Cu-moan-son. Git-a-fu-kin-grip-ay-yir-sel. Ah smile benignly at Jocky, all the time wishing a prompt and violent death oan the nosey cunt.

La nariz es un órgano entrometido, por algo se dice que alguien mete su nariz en todas partes; en inglés, a los entrometidos se les dice nosey, palabra que supongo algo tiene que ver con la nariz. También las trompetillas prolongan la nariz con la mano. Una pirámide, un reloj de sol, un espolón, un elefante del revés, muchísima nariz, como decía Quevedo, la gloria de las narices no es ya de este mundo. Los cirujanos plásticos les han dado con la puerta en las narices.

The gov’ment!” declares the caretaker, and his wrinkles rise like hackles, pulling his face into a surprisingly taut bristle of pure disgust. “Tax collectors, land grabbers, nosey do-gooders more self-righteous than any Bible-poundin’ preacher ever born!

Goo, quit being nosey and give me a second, please.” There was a hum and then, “Can I have a hug too?” Dallas’s arms flexed and I swore I heard him laugh lightly before one of them dropped from around me as he took a step back. “Have at her, buddy.” It was then I finally glanced down at Louie to find he’d moved to stand beside my hip. The kid blinked and edged closer between us. “No, you too,” he said so effortlessly it made me want to cry. “Sandwich.” Just like that, Dallas crouched and scooped Louie up. One of those little arms went around my neck, and I would bet my life the other was around Dallas’s. The only other thing I knew for sure was that an arm too brawny to belong to a five-year-old wrapped low around my back. The side of my head went to a shoulder and one half of my chest was crushed against a much harder one. “This is nice,” Louie muttered somewhere close to my ear. I couldn’t help it. I laughed, and what I was sure was the hand connected to the arm around my back, stretched wide and covered part of my belly, the tips of long fingers touching my belly button. I sucked in a breath. “Can we do this more?” Lou continued on.

Bud, our nosey neighbor, pokes his head over the fence. I wonder if he’s gonna threaten to call social services again, like he did the last time Mom was screaming on the front lawn. I pray Mom keeps her voice down so he doesn’t. “We stopped for a smoothie,” Dad says with a shrug, slow on the uptake.

come on, cute face like yours has to have a girlfriend. unless you swing my way, of course, in which case please tell me now and save me the trouble of having to figure it out.” “what’s it matter?” “i’m curious.” “he means nosey,” aaron said. “i don’t swing either way. let’s go in.” “bullshit,” nicky said. - nicky, neil & aaron

They had found out. Before I could panic, I made myself stretch my fingers wide and take a calming breath. You already knew this was bound to happen. At least that’s what I told myself. The more I thought about it, the more I should have been appreciative that the people at the chapel in Las Vegas hadn’t recognized him. Or that people on the street had been oblivious and hadn’t seen us going in and out of there. Or that the receptionist at the acupuncturist hadn’t snapped a picture on her phone and posted it online. Because I might not understand all people, much less most of them, but I understood nosey folks. And nosey folks would do something like that without a second thought. Yet, I reminded myself that there was nothing to be embarrassed about. It would be fine. So, one gossip site posted about us getting married. Whoop-de-do. There was probably a thousand sites just like it. I briefly thought about Diana hearing about it, but I’d deal with that later. There was no use in getting scared now. She was the only one whose reaction I cared about. My mom and sisters’ opinions and feelings weren’t exactly registering at the top of my list now… or ever. I made myself shove them to the back of my thoughts. I was tired of being mad and upset; it affected my work. Plus, they’d made me sad and mad enough times in my life. I wasn’t going to let them ruin another day. Picking my phone up again, I quickly texted Aiden back, swallowing my nausea at the same time. Me: Who told you? Not even two minutes passed before my phone dinged with a response. Miranda: Trevor’s blowing up my phone. Eww. Trevor. Me: We knew it was going to happen eventually, right? Good luck with Trev. I’m glad he doesn’t have my number. And I was even gladder there wasn’t a home phone; otherwise, I’m positive he would have been blowing it up too. I managed to get back to looking at images on the screen for a few more minutes—a bit more distracted than usual—when the phone beeped again. It was Aiden/Miranda. I should really change his contact name. Miranda: Good luck? I’m not answering his calls. What? Me: That psycho will come visit if you don’t. Was that me being selfish? Yes. Did I care? No. Aiden: I know. Uh. Me: You’re always at practice… Aiden: Have fun. This asshole! I almost laughed, but before I could, he sent me another message. Aiden: I’ll get back to him in a couple days. Don’t worry. Snorting, I texted back. Me: I’m not worried. If he drops by, I’ll set him up in your room. Aiden: You genuinely scare me. Me: You don’t know how many times you barely made it through the day alive, for the record. He didn’t text me back after that

The only people she ever spoke to were Pa now and then and, even less often, the cash-register lady at the Piggly Wiggly, Mrs. Singletary, who had recently taken to teaching Kya the difference between quarters, nickels, and dimes—she already knew about pennies. But Mrs. Singletary could also get nosey. “Dahlin’, what’s yo’ name, anyhow? And why don’t yo’ ma come in anymore? Haven’t seen ’er since the turnips put out.” “Ma’s got lots of chores, so she sends me to the store.” “Yeah, dear, but ya never buy nears enough for yo’ family.” “Ya know, ma’am, I gotta go. Ma needs these grits right away.

What happened?” Dallas asked immediately, his hand reaching out toward Louie. I didn’t miss how Lou took his hand instantly. “She called me a brat,” Louie blurted out, his other little hand coming up to meet with the one already clutching our neighbor’s. I blinked and told myself I was not going to look at Christy until I had the full story. “Why?” Dallas was the one who asked. “He spilled some of his hot chocolate on her purse,” it was Josh who explained. “He said sorry, but she called him a brat. I told her not to talk to my brother like that, and she told me I should have learned to respect my elders.” For the second time around this woman, I went to ten. Straight through ten, past Go, and collected two hundred dollars. “I tried to wipe it up,” Louie offered, those big blue eyes going back and forth between Dallas and me for support. “You should teach these boys to watch where they’re going,” Christy piped up, taking a step back. Be an adult. Be a role model, I tried telling myself. “It was an accident,” I choked out. “He said he was sorry… and your purse is leather and black, and it’ll be fine,” I managed to grind out like this whole thirty-second conversation was jabbing me in the kidneys with sharp knives. “I’d like an apology,” the woman, who had gotten me suspended and made me cry, added quickly. I stared at her long face. “For what?” “From Josh, for being so rude.” My hand started moving around the outside of my purse, trying to find the inner compartment when Louie suddenly yelled, “Mr. Dallas, don’t let her get her pepper spray!” The fuck? Oh my God. I glared at Louie. “I was looking for a baby wipe to offer her one, Lou. I wasn’t getting my pepper spray.” “Nuh-uh,” he argued, and out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Christy take a step back. “I heard you on the phone with Vanny. You said, you said if she made you mad again you were gonna pepper spray her and her mom and her mom’s mom in the—” “Holy sh—oot, Louie!” My face went red, and I opened my mouth to argue that he hadn’t heard me correctly. But… I had said those words. They had been a joke, but I’d said them. I glanced at Dallas, the serious, easygoing man who happened to look in that instant like he was holding back a fart but was hopefully just a laugh, and finally peeked at the woman who I’d like to think brought this upon herself. “Christy, I would never do that—” ... I cleared my throat and popped my lips. “Well, that was awkward.” “I’m not a brat.” Louie was still hung up and outraged. I pointed my finger at him. “You’re a tattletale, that’s what you are. Nosey Rosie. What did I tell you about snitches?” “You love them?

To write past events in the present tense adds immediacy to your prose. ~Yvonne Blackwood

Farren didn’t want or need Chloe’s nosey ass in her business. She was extremely spiteful. Her

Nosey gossiping church members were sucking out my passion for life leaving me an irritable shell of what I felt called to do on this earth. Surely that hadn’t been God’s will. The comfortable stuffy American church needed to wake up from their petty problems, and see what it was like for two minutes for Christians in the rest of the world.

People might think folks in the South are nosey. Folks in the South don't ask questions to learn something; they ask to find out what you know. If you act like you don't know much, they will tell you everything they know. If you talk like you know a lot, they think you're just showing off, and they'll walk off and leave you, because they don't want to listen to you.

It's bad enough that a gang of infernal Jews should plant us here, where there's no earthly English interest to serve, and all hell beating up against us, simply because Nosey Zimmern has lent money to half the Cabinet. It's bad enough that an old pawnbroker from Bagdad should make us fight his battles; we can't fight with our right hand cut off. Our one score was Hastings and his victory, which was really somebody else's victory. Tom Travers has to suffer, and so have you." Then, after a moment's silence, he pointed toward the bottomless well and said, in a quieter tone: "I told you that I didn't believe in the philosophy of the Tower of Aladdin. I don't believe in the Empire growing until it reaches the sky; I don't believe in the Union Jack going up and up eternally like the Tower. But if you think I am going to let the Union Jack go down and down eternally, like the bottomless well, down into the blackness of the bottomless pit, down in defeat and derision, amid the jeers of the very Jews who have sucked us dry—no I won't, and that's flat; not if the Chancellor were blackmailed by twenty millionaires with their gutter rags, not if the Prime Minister married twenty Yankee Jewesses, not if Woodville and Carstairs had shares in twenty swindling mines.

I turned the other way and headed back towards the stairs to find Darcy and get the hell away from the Acrux Manor. Hooking up with Caleb Altair had not been on my list of things to do tonight but it hadn’t been the worst thing I’d ever done either. I tried to wipe the smirk from my face as I remembered the way his hands had felt on my body and navigated my way back through the sprawling manor. The place was seriously massive and I hadn’t realised quite how far I’d run in my bid to escape from Caleb. I took a few wrong turns before finally finding the stairs and heading down to the huge door that led outside. Darcy and Orion were standing out on the gravel drive, looking in opposite directions to each other. “Hey,” I called as I moved to join them, wrapping my arms around myself against the chill of the evening. Darcy glanced at Orion then hurried toward me with a taut expression. I raised a questioning eyebrow at her and her cheeks heated a little in response. “Where have you been?” she asked, eyeing my hair with her mystical twin senses tingling. “Oh, I erm-” “With who?” she demanded, her eyes widening. I glanced at Orion awkwardly and he rolled his eyes before stalking away from us further down the drive. “It’s not a big deal,” I said as Darcy waited for her answer expectantly. “Seriously, it was just a bit of fun.” “Well I’m guessing this bit of fun has a name,” she teased. I sighed in defeat, ready to admit to yet another Tory’s bad choice in men moment. “Caleb.” Orion turned to look back at me with a raised eyebrow and I cursed his damn Vampire ears. I should have realised he’d still be listening in. Nosey asshole. “But Tory, he’s an Heir!”Darcy spluttered before she could stop herself. I dropped my eyes guiltily and she quickly reined in the saucer eyes and battered down the judgement. “I mean, I get it, he’s stupidly hot and everything,” she hedged quickly. “I’m just worried about you. What if he’s up to something?” I snorted a laugh. “Don’t worry about it Darcy, I’m not falling for him. It was just a mutually beneficial moment of madness.” “Okay, good,” she said with relief. Then her eyes sparkled with mischief as she dropped her voice. “So how was it?” Orion cleared his throat and I scowled at him. “I’ll tell you later when there are less nosey Vampires using their bat ears around us,” I said. Darcy giggled in response, looking over at Orion who didn’t even bother to pretend he hadn’t been listening to us. (tory)

When you stick your nose in people's other business, it isn't usually a nose that suffers.

Ever Wonder? by Stewart Stafford Ever wonder why the gales howl? Screams of the multitude departed, In all those mauling, biting attacks, Life numbed in interminable silence. Ever wonder why woods are tangled? Matted hair from a sprite's dwelling, To catch the lost, nosey and wandering, Their hair caught to make new tangles. Ever wonder how waves roll over white? Sea horses rising and diving underneath, The sun striking their wet necks glinting, A trick of the light of white horses riding. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.

You do not have to say anything, but anything you do say may be used in evidence against you. Do you understand?

What do you do?’ I asked, nosey as ever – an essential attribute for a writer.

No! No! And No!” he said, looking as if he wanted to hit me again. “I’m a dwarf! We don’t go all the time. We can hold our water weeks at a time if we want to! And when we go, it takes some time, concentration, and privacy. Happy are we now, Nosey Dragon?” “Ah!” I held my finger up once more, not my dragon finger, mind you. “One more question, though.” He folded his arms across his chest and sighed. “What is it?” I reached out, and he helped me to my feet. “Is that why you’re always so grumpy?

I escaped from an interview with that laboratory-loving doctor, Ag O. Nee, just barely by the shadow of my Nosey nose!

Greetings, cybernuts! This is I.B. Nosey, your official unofficial reporter!

I've been compared to Inspector Clouseau...or has he been compared to me?

Jaysus, you must be the most nosey little shite I have ever come across in my bleeding life.

Beware of the hound He’s never been tamed Like cursive writing With a long last name Always hungry Scratchin’ at fleas Beware of the dog Wont’cha please   Beware of the cat He’s a little neurotic Like a moonshine high On antibiotics Always climbing In an old oak tree Beware of the cat Wont’cha please   Beware of the snake He’s a little greasy Like Delta Blues Or the Ole Big Easy Always crawlin’ Ain’t got no knees Beware of the snake Wont’cha please   Beware of the rabbit He’s always listenin’ Like a nosey neighbor Or a normal Christian Always eager Ill at ease Beware of the rabbit Wont’cha please   Beware of the man Born too rich Like the Bubonic plague He’s a son of a bitch Always selling Filled with greed Beware of the man Wont’cha please    

Do you promise not to leave my side the entire weekend?” “I promise to protect you from our mothers. My mother’s very nice, in an extremely nosey, interfering sort of way.” She smiled. “And mine’s very nice, in an extremely bossy, conniving sort of way.” “But both our fathers play golf,” he said, smiling. “That will keep them busy all weekend, going over every course and every hole they’ve ever played.” “And our mothers? What do you suppose they’ll be going over?” He gave her a little kiss. “I promise not to leave your side all weekend,” he said. *

Oh you are especially priceless, he said motioning to Haven and I, widening the expanse of his grin. First you two break into my office... Haven stiffened and we briefly made eye contact. And then all four of you break into my lab. Quite a nosey lot aren't you?

I thought on it and Cane can roll with us . . . . but he definitely gotta be a sidekick. . . . That’s the rule, people. Sicka white dudes being all primary in shit. He can be the sidekick or the nosey neighbor. That’s it.

It’s like a soap opera. Obviously I lack social skills and I’m nosey.

Professional is an apt definition for me, professional slouch, that is. I can be very professional at seeming to do work, but the real work is trying to do as little as possible, without getting caught by Trip or any nosey busybodies.

See, Shay was a ghetto and nosey bitch. She stayed out in Dade County and she knew everybody and their mama’s business.

Mel,” she said tentatively. “I’m a little worried about…” “What?” She took a breath. “Gossip. Everyone talking about us.” Mel’s eyes twinkled and she smiled. “Abby, you’re an unmarried woman pregnant with twins and you’ve been spending time with our pediatrician. He never misses a chance to sit by you at Jack’s. Surrender. The gossip is way ahead of you.” Abby gasped. She leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially. “Do they think there’s something to us? Like a relationship?” One of Mel’s light brows lifted in amusement. “They hope.” “Oh God!” “Yeah, I’ve been there,” Mel said. “The whole town had me married to Jack before I had my first really good kiss with him.” She waved a hand. “Ah, hell, go with it. At least they’re not malicious. Just very nosey. I got through it. You can, too.” Heavy

If you find someone who makes you laugh until it actually hurts, you’re both crying and you desperately need to wee, keep hold of them, because it’s a rare talent.

and although I hated being woken up, I never minded when it was the dog because it was nice getting some affection, even if it was from someone even hairier and smellier

You’re fired,” I deadpan, getting a laugh out of him. “You two work together,” the barista asks. Nosey bastard. “Uh, yeah,” Harper answers. “Can we get an order of those toasted cheddar bites?” “They have cheddar bites?” I ask, perking up. Why is he just telling me this now? “Dude, give me an order too,” I tell barista guy. “No,” Harper corrects. I’m about to throat punch him and tell him both his employment and our new friendship is over, but he adds, “Just one please. The ones I ordered are for him.” Oh. He ordered me cheesiness of his own accord. Ten points to Harper. “You’re hired again,” I inform him. “Glad to hear it.

If someone’s doing a hard job – whether that’s physically, mentally or emotionally hard – then we should all do what we can to not make it even harder for them, especially when they’re not earning much from it.

Give me a fine nigga that smell good, and his dick looking like he got a hammerhead, and anaconda mix sittin’ ‘tween his legs. And you can best believe that’s my nigga in my head and in real life! Bitch, a nigga like that will have me fuckin’ and suckin’ his ass on his grandmammy porch with the lights on, knowing her nosey ass is peeping through the curtain. So yeah, boop. I understand whatchu going through,” Asia carried on so bad.

American curiosity has them in a chokehold.

Grandma get yo’ gun poppin’! Love ‘bout to die!” We heard Tay yell from the back of the house. Her nosey ass must have been in the hall listening to our conversation.

Nosey much?” he taunts. “Very much.” I own up to it.

The teenager let out a deep, deep sigh, like he’d been holding it in for hours. “Dad’s gonna be so pissed.” “Yeah, but not at you,” I reassured him. The look he sent me was one that told me he wasn’t totally convinced that was going to be the case, but I knew it would. And I’d be nosey and eavesdrop. We headed into the house. I went to the table in the kitchen, picking up a hunting and fishing magazine stacked neatly in the middle as Amos went for the house phone and punched in some numbers. His face was gloomy as hell. I pretended not to look at him as he held the receiver and let out a deep breath. He winced right before saying, “Hey, Dad… uh, Ora and I think there’s a leak in the garage apartment… The ceiling has, like, pockets of water, and there’s drops—what? I don’t know how… I just went in there and saw it… Ora turned off the water. Then she turned off the power when the lights started flickering… Hold on.” The boy held the phone out. “He wants to talk to you.” I took it. “Hi, Rhodes, how’s your day going? How many people have you busted for not having a permit?” I flashed a grimace-like smile at Amos, who suddenly didn’t look so sick. Rhodes didn’t say anything for a heartbeat before coming on the line with “It’s going good now.” Excuse me? Was that flirting? “And only two hunters. How’s yours?” He was really asking me about my day. Who was this man and how could I buy him? “Pretty good. A customer brought me a Bundt cake. I gave Clara half when she gave me the stink eye. I’ll give Am half of my half so you can try it. It’s good.” Amos was giving me the funniest look, and I winked at him. We were in this together. “Thanks, Buddy,” he said almost softly. “You mind telling me what happened over there?

Plastic surgeons can do anything with the human nose except keep it out of other people's business.

Put the kettle on, Daisy, and don’t ask questions,

SEPTEMBER Tuesday Right off the bat, let’s clear something up: Why are YOU reading my journal? Are you some sort of weirdo who sneaks into kids’ rooms and goes through their personal stuff, like a nosey parent? A journal is private. Put this down right now and walk away. Oh, I see. You found this book online. Even though it’s supposed to be private, I guess I INVITED you to read it. That makes ME the weirdo, not you. I admit it. I’m an EXHIBITIONIST.* I actually want you to stick your nose into my personal stuff. So this really isn’t a journal at all. It’s more like a memoir. * Don’t be LAZY. If you don’t know what a word means, first try to figure it out by seeing how the word works in the sentence around it. If you can’t figure it out, look it up in a dictionary.

Beep, Beep, Buzz, Buzz My day begins with Jenny aka (Jenna) Talya- laying on the horn in her black 2003 ford focus with the paint peeling on the hood. And reading a text from my bestie Jenny saying- ‘Don’t forget b*tches, it's love-o-grams day!’ My mom yells out the door every day not to do that, yet it goes in one ear and out the other with Jenny. Jenny does what Jenny wants to do. Yet that horn has a way of like going through you… you know. Especially at five- fifty-five every single morning. ‘Hurry the hell up, I am not getting any younger over here!’ She yells out the window of the SUV. And my mom yells about that too, ‘stop cursing!’ Then I say something like ‘Keep your pants on… I am coming! I am ‘Cumming!’’ As the nosey neighbor lady peps- out one of the slats of their window blind at us. It always seems to be I am running to get where I am going, even from house door to car door. Most of the time passing up that one book up on the floor, which you need for class on the way out without thinking, in such a rush. I didn't even put on Ray's letterman jacket he gave me to wear, I balled it up in my arms. Just like my purse and backpack zippers were somewhat open, that was just a horn in my one right shoulder. Right before that my darling pain in the ass little sister Kellie, who is ten years old. She grabs one of my bookable handles and tugs me back off my footing. WHAT- is it! I spun around looking like a demon child just snarling at her. She said crying. I just wanted to hug you, Karly. And I said- forget it… I am late now, and can’t you see I am texting my ‘BF! -Boyfriend’ So stop wasting my time little girl. (No- I know I am not a very nice person. I know that now! Yet I did think! I thought I was going to see her letter that night. I would give anything to have going back and hugged her that last time… that day.) It seemed that I was always too busy to spend any time with her. As a teen girl, like I said. My time was mostly spent on boys- well mostly Ray, talking and getting together, and partying to be popular. I thought that was what living a good life was all about. It’s just as if she always picked the worst times to try to bother me. Um- I’m not perfect, and there is only some much time in the day to play, and she wanted to play all the time. Though, I can see her turning into a little me. I was the one she looked up to. Mom was certainly trying to get her some help for her impulsiveness; we all think she has ADHD or something for how clinging she is. She is mom and dad’s favorite though I feel that girl is not what I would call under-loved that’s for sure. Yet mom and dad don’t see anything wrong with her having all that energy, and to be like running around, sucking down the soda, and cramming down the junk food. She is picked on to like me; I was before I fell into Jenny's hand of friends. I hope she can do the same. All at the same time I hope she doesn’t, I don’t want to see her fall into the wrong as I did.

What are you doing?” I jumped and turned to glance at Louie who was standing on the other side of the screen door, looking at me. “Nothing,” I told him, taking the two steps over to open the trash can and put the bag inside like he hadn’t just caught me eavesdropping. He waited until I was on the first step to ask, “You were listening to them, huh?” “Me?” I made my eyes go wide as I opened the door and stepped inside as he backed up to give me room. “No. I’m not nosey.” Louie scoffed. This five-year-old literally scoffed at me. I couldn’t help but laugh. “You think I’m nosey?” Louie had already gone through his lying phase as a toddler, and even if he hadn’t, he knew I didn’t like it, and he didn’t like to hurt anyone’s feelings. Especially mine. But what he said next left me trying to figure out whether I should high-five him or be scared at how manipulative and sneaky he could be. He walked over to me and leaned against my leg with that beaming smile of his. “Wanna hug?

Do I look like someone who has something to do here on earth?' - That's what I'd like to answer the busybodies who inquire into my activities.

Quit talking over me!" the flustered man exclaimed. Instead of talking over him, Osty called to the crew like he would any order, "I've... Got... One nosey customer, being quite rude!" The crew responded, "Invite him to come back, We'll Spit in his food!" When the entire Travelling Baking Show spit on the ground, I had to cover my mouth to hide my first true smile of the day - The first true smile of my new life. The people who had stopped to watch began to leave with grins as well. The short man took off in a huff, and I muttered to his back, "And that's why you never make an enemy of entertainers.

Tuesday Right off the bat, let’s clear something up: Why are YOU reading my journal? Are you some sort of weirdo who sneaks into kids’ rooms and goes through their personal stuff, like a nosey parent? A journal is private. Put this down right now and walk away.

Nosey.

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I raised my hand to my face and - gently - I gave my wife a kiss. Across the way, I couldn’t help but notice a nosey woman turning her nose up in disgust. Apparently I had timed my show of affection with absolute perfection to give the battle-axe a not-so-private show.

A woman should never hear her brother putting down business. That’s what my nosey ass get for minding business that wasn’t mine.

If anything happened to me she’d have to go and live with her dad, who, as I think we’ve already established, is a total waste of space, oxygen, and the Earth’s natural resources.

But I was pleasantly surprised to see that someone had given the furniture department a bit of a makeover and there were a few lounge suites that looked like they’d actually been designed sometime after the fall of the Berlin Wall (as opposed to before the building of it).

We haven't talked about my health at all. It's a nice change. Everyone else asks a billion questions. Adults can be so nosey

Indians do not believe in privacy; they are a nosey people and the one thing they will not do is mind their own business.

RULE #10: WHEN YOUR FRIENDS GET NOSEY, TELL THEM NOTHING.

Ellie prefers girls and Jade’s asexual, although her mum reckons she’s going through a phase and she’ll change her mind when she meets the right bloke. But if you’re straight, no one ever says it’s just a phase you’re going through, do they?’ She had a point.