Peeing In The Pool Quotes

Isn’t making a smoking section in a restaurant like making a peeing section in a swimming pool?

The joy's gone out of me like the pee from a small boy in a swimming pool on a hot day.

'bye. Great knowing you. Fun peeing next to you in the wave pool that one time...?

  2387. Isn't making a smoking section in a restaurant like making a peeing section in a swimming pool? (My sentiments exactly!) 

I swam in the neighborhood peel. I mean pool. I guess I threw that pee in there because the swimming experience left a bad taste in my mouth.

For the majority of my life, this is what I have done. Justified the adult children peeing in the baby pool. I want to make my way into deeper waters, with adults who can actually swim.

My swimming suit stole my density, and now the hotdog vendor whistles at me whilst he pees in the pool. I wish he’d use a flute to flirt with me, because my ducks would like to swim in peace.

Where do I leave the key?” asked Dawes. “By the door,” said Alex. “I’ll text Salome.” “That seems so civil.” “Never mind. Let’s break a window and pee on the pool table.” Dawes released a breathy giggle.

During the height of the government enforcement of the Civil Rights Act, some segregated townships filled in their municipal pools rather than let nonwhite kids share in the perverse joy of peeing in the water.

At some point, I figured that it would be more effective and far funnier to embrace the ugliest, most terrifying things in the world--the Holocaust, racism, rape, et cetera. But for the sake of comedy, and the comedian's personal sanity, this requires a certain emotional distance. It's akin to being a shrink or a social worker. you might think that the most sensitive, empathetic person would make the best social worker, but that person would end up being soup on the floor. It really takes someone strong--someone, dare I say, with a big fat wall up--to work in a pool of heartbreak all day and not want to fucking kill yourself. But adopting a persona at once ignorant and arrogant allowed me to say what I didn't mean, even preach the opposite of what I believed. For me, it was a funny way to be sincere. And like the jokes in a roast, the hope is that the genuine sentiment--maybe even a goodness underneath the joke (however brutal) transcends.

Didn't they understand that for some people the opera, the drama, the ballet, were only boring, and yet a peepshow on Market Street was art? They want to make everything gray and tasteful. Don't they understand how awful good taste seems to people who don't have it? Ha, what do they care about people with bad taste! Nothing. But I do. I love them. They wear cheap perfume and carry transistor radios. They buy plastic dog turds and painted turtles and pennants and signs that say, "I don't swim in your toilet, so please don't pee in my pool!" and they buy smelly popcorn and eat it on the street and go to bad movies and stand here in doorways sneaking nips of whiskey just like I'm doing, and they're all so nice.

You might think that the most sensitive, empathetic person would make the best social worker, but that person would end up being soup on the floor. It really takes someone strong—someone, dare I say, with a big fat wall up—to work in a pool of heartbreak all day and not want to fucking kill yourself.

Do you want to know why I don't like the so-called connoisseurs of arts? I hate hypocrisy. I'll give you an example: if the movie is colored and tells us about two friends who sit in the pool, fart into the water, get out of the pool and fart into each other's face it will be thrash, a lack of a culture and a third-rate comedy. But if the movie is black-and-white and tells us about two friends who cross the desert and peeing on each other, shit on the sand, and then they eat each other's shit, and on top of that they fucking each other's ass it will be a brilliant art house movie.

Sure, I pee in the pool. But that’s only because I don’t have a sink big enough to swim in. I fear Ryan Lochte’s career will be in the toilet once he’s done with swimming.

Some of us learned long ago not to pee in the pool in which we swim., seeing the error in thinking that wealth-at-any-cost could buy you a new pool.

Wasn’t life simple? Just a few simple rules to follow. Treat others as you want to be treated. Tell the truth. Do the right thing. Only kill what you intend to eat. Keep those you love safe. Don’t wear white after Labor Day. Don’t pee in the pool.

An inexplicable gratitude swells. The floor pulls away from your crossed legs, but it's just a light-headedness. Of late you've been through so much. More than can be borne. You'd seen a man die. You'd learned your daughter was a prostitute. And as the weak sunlight went darker yet in advance of another rainstorm, you find yourself in the midst of a strange peace that seems to emanate from the middle of your chest, a warm spot that reminds you, to your mild amusement, of peeing in the pool or wetting the bed or wetting the diaper and finally, of course, of being in your mother's womb. Even the thought of your mother and father buried in the ground doesn't trouble the serenity that now strobes in the atmosphere around you.

I’m gonna go see if they need help in the kitchen.” “The maids have it under control,” Mateo says. “Then I’m going to pee,” I reply, promptly. “Bathroom’s broken.” “Then I’m going to drown myself in the pool.” Smirking, Mateo says, “Have Elise grab you a towel.

I held out my hand to her. “Want to test the pool?” She wrinkled her nose. “If we’re going to swim, let’s do it now, before it’s just a sea of pee.” “Eww,” Vienna groaned.

Society as a whole had enough problems without his DNA peeing in the gene pool.

A Prayer about Normal Trials Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who by God’s power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, as was necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ. (1 Pet. 1:3–7) Heavenly Father, today I need a fresh supply of persevering grace, for the “all kinds of trials” of life are sapping my spirit and weighing me down. I need to be reassured that you are refining my faith and not just ignoring me. I feel tired, weary, disillusioned, and a simmering anger is emerging in my spirit. A part of me just says, “Buck up, you woozy whiner!” But I think the gospel offers a better way. Honestly, I’m embarrassed to even speak of my trials, because I didn’t go to sleep hungry or thirsty last night, I didn’t hear gunfire echoing through my neighborhood, there’s no plague pillaging my community, I don’t live with the fear of my children being sold into slavery, and my government isn’t threatening the exercise of my faith. These are realities with which many of my brothers and sisters in Christ live on a daily basis. For me, it’s more like swimming in a pool of tiny piranha just nibbling away at my joy, energy, and peace. Please give me grace perfectly suited for the demands and the dailiness of normal life—in this body with aging joints and a leaking memory; among fellow sinner-saints who, like me, love inconsistently; in unresolved stories from the past and present of brokenness and weakness; in the face of minor injustices and a lack of common mercies; when cars, plumbing, air conditioners, and other stuff just break; when people don’t say “thank you,” people drive like maniacs, and pets pee on the carpet. Lord, in all these things, I want your hand and heart to be at work. I want to know what a man of faith looks like, not just when I am praying for daily bread or facing a firing squad but when I’m living out the implications of the gospel in the daily messiness of normal life. I pray in Jesus’ tender name. Amen.