Peanut Gallery Quotes

I wasn't entirely sure how to reply. Blow me and Screw you both seemed like strong contenders, but the peanut gallery in my head appeared to be favoring castration.

Ah. Medieval-style ransom.” Toot looked confused. “He did run some, but I stopped him, my lord. Like, just now. In front of you. Right over there.” There were several conspicuous sounds behind me, the loudest from my apprentice, and I turned to eye everyone else. They were all either covering smiles or holding them back— poorly. “Hey, peanut gallery,” I said. “This isn’t as easy as I’m making it look.” “You’re doing fine,” Karrin said, her eyes twinkling. I sighed. “Come on, Toot,” I said, and walked over to Hook.

Our lips met and parted, and his tongue slid deep to taste me. The sounds from the peanut gallery—choking and retching—and the tug on my robe instantly drained the heat from the encounter. “That’s disgusting,” Kola assured me with a glare that a six-year-old shouldn’t have had. “Why?” I asked snidely. “Your mouth has germs,” he informed me haughtily. “That’s why you told Hannah not to lick Chilly.” “No, I told her not to lick Chilly because the cat doesn’t like to be licked by her.” “He licks his body.” “He does,” Hannah, our four-year-old, agreed with a nod. “Kola’s right.” “But he doesn’t want you to do it,” I assured my daughter. “How do you know?” Kola questioned. I had to think. Kola waited, squinting at me. “Do not lick the cat! Nobody licks the cat!” Sam ordered when the silence stretched for too long.

So, what’s up with the tie?” I asked, and Zayne stared down at it like he’d forgotten he’d been holding it. “Now that is a question I was dying to ask,” Roth commented. “BDSM, Stony? I am shooketh.” … “Blindfolded training. Not nearly as sexy as I was thinking, but still vastly entertaining” came the comment from the one-man peanut gallery. “That is a good idea.” Anticipation swirled in my chest. “Let’s go.” “This should be fun to watch,” Roth declared. “Can you not talk?” Zayne snapped as he walked to where I stood. “I don’t think that is a promise I can make.

Or a stuffed animal. I would’ve cuddled with it at night.” I sighed heavily. “Oh well. I guess that’s never going to happen.” Arabella giggled. Grandma pointed the breaker bar at her. “Quiet in the peanut gallery.

Rhage shot a hard stare across the peanut gallery. “Baskin-Robbins has over thirteen hundred entries in their flavor profile, you provincial fuck-tart. And I’m talking all ice creams from all makers. I’m going to call it Wiki-licks.

The peanut gallery around me has stopped giving any commentary, so I have no idea what is going on. - Violet

All around, grown men were getting out of cars and shoving at each other like fifteen-year-olds, the bunch of juiced-up, armchair quarterbacks ready to peanut-gallery it up: The closest they were going to get to the octagon was standing on the outside of the chicken wire looking in.

Oh for God’s sake,” came Morgan’s sleepy voice, disembodied in the dark. “Go after the hot guy, would you?” “The peanut gallery needs to shut up,” Elle muttered into the cushion. “Just sayin’,” Morgan said. “I’d leave you alone out here in a hot minute to go have sex if I had the chance.” “I’m not going to go have sex while you’re out here knowing I’m having sex!” “Your loss,” Morgan said. “Oh my God,” Elle said. “Stop talking!

They say make love, not war,” Jax shouted down from the spectators’ ring that lined the training pit. “I frankly don’t care as long as you two get to one or the other.” The peanut gallery burst into laughter. “Is that how you treat a lady, Jax? There’s more to it than just saying hello and putting a sword through her eye!” Daniel jested back. “Mate, if you’re going for the eye, your sword is in the wrong place!” A roar of laughter threatened to deafen them.

So out of the six major subcontractors who buy from us, there are two left? Man, that’s a turf war, right there.” “And whoever’s pulling this shit is probably going to try to work his way up the food chain.” Trez spoke up. “Which is why iAm and I think you should have someone with you twenty-four/seven until this shit shakes out.” Rehv seemed annoyed but he didn’t disagree. “We got any intel on who’s leaving all those bodies around?” “Well, duh,” Trez said. “People think it’s you.” “Not logical. Why would I kill off my own buyers?” Now Rehv was the one getting the hairy eyeball from the peanut gallery. “Oh, come on,” he said. “I’m not that bad. Well, okay, but only if someone fucks with me." -Rehv & Trez

the peanut gallery.

My request warrants a peal of giggles from the peanut gallery.

And since you seem to be puttin’ a lotta stock into what everyone thinks, thought I’d share straight from the mouth of a member of the peanut gallery.

You got some of the best stuff I’ve ever had Noelle,” oh Lord, “It’s like the second coming of Christ.” “You’ve clearly misinterpreted the meaning of my vagina, dear,” I told him, hearing another bout of laughter ensue from the peanut gallery behind me. “It’s… It’s like ambrosia,” he said, smacking his lips like he could still taste me and offering an extremely toothy grin that may have been cute if he were sober and not fighting to stay on his feet. “I’ll

That’s enough from the naked peanut gallery. Finish eating and get some damn clothes on.

I came to get you. Don’t you think you’ve been here long enough? Doing whatever it is that you’re doing?” Monroe scoffs from beside me. “I don’t remember asking the peanut gallery for their opinion.

And yes, I did ruin another batch of pancakes and I don’t need any comments from the snooty peanut gallery about it, m’kay? I can perform on a stage in five-inch high heels for three solid hours, simultaneously dancing and singing in front of thousands of people, but I can’t make a freaking batch of pancakes. Absurd. Inexcusable, really. But that’s okay because now I can make BISCUITS AND GRAVY.

I hear a bunch of Hi, Summer’s from the peanut gallery,

We dont need the peanut gallery, you never know whos allergic!

Why does everybody in this party turn into a peanut gallery in the most dangerous moments?

The “city” of Kangbashi, for instance, sits on the edge of the Inner Mongolian desert. It was built from scratch in 2004. Architecturally speaking, it’s impressive, or at least ambitious. It features a meticulously landscaped central plaza more than a mile in length, along which sits a library shaped like a trio of enormous shelved books, a museum shaped like a cross between a peanut and a bronze beanbag, and an art gallery vaguely modeled on a pair of yurts. Wide avenues lead to shopping malls, hotels, and high-rise housing developments. The city was built to house more than a million residents. But when I was there in spring of 2016, it held barely one-tenth that number.