Speed Dial Quotes

Whoa. He had ghouls on speed dial. My lawyer kicks so much ass.

I frowned. “You mean Set’s got, like, other evil gods on speed dial?

I don't have any leeches on my speed dial." — Jacob Black

It isn't about miracles or proof or having God on speed dial. You want to be close to God? Reach down and help your neighbor. Faith without works is dead...

When you hang with your tribe, you feel invigorated, recognized, and understood—you can’t underestimate the powerful effects of being fortified in that way. When you have your tribe on speed dial, you’ve got all the resources you need to fuel up, fly straight, and head back out to face the world at large.

Most guys my age have girlfriends and drinking buddies on their speed dial. Me, I have the Memphis CDC.

The Society for the Protection of Historical Buildings was the official body whose task it was to oversee repairs and maintenance to our beloved but battered listed building. We had them on speed-dial. They had us on their black list.

When a sex tape gets made a star is born with a publicity agent on speed dial a six figure payout and a line of tacky lingerie in the works

We pay people and reward them for greed and sleaze . When a sex tape gets made a star is born with a publicity agent on speed dial a six figure pay cheque and a tacky lingerie line....selling filth so you can get your face on Time magazine... From Jukebox

Right from the start Abigail used to moan and fidget as her hair was relaxed or braided or thermally reconditioned, but her dad was determined that his child wasn’t going to embarrass him in public. That all stopped when Abigail turned eleven and calmly announced that she had ChildLine on speed‑dial and the next person who came near her with a hair extension, chemical straightener, or, God forbid, a hot comb, was going to end up explaining their actions to Social Services.

I think he has my clitoris on speed dial.

He leans over and whispers, “You have Zuckerberg on speed dial now?” “Huh?” I frown. “FB . . . that stands for Facebook, right?

But you're on my speed dial and I want you to stay there

The Big Nurse is able to set the wall clock at whatever speed she wants by just turning one of those dials in the steel door; she takes a notion to hurry things up, she turns the speed up, and those hands whip around that disk like spokes in a wheel. The scene in the picture-screen windows goes through rapid changes of light to show morning, noon, and night - throb off and on furiously with day and dark, and everybody is driven like mad to keep up with that passing of fake time; awful scramble of shaves and breakfasts and appointments and lunches and medications and ten minutes of night so you barely get your eyes closed before the dorm light's screaming at you to get up and start the scramble again, go like a sonofabitch this way, going through the full schedule of a day maybe twenty times an hour, till the Big Nurse sees everybody is right up to the breaking point, and she slacks off on the throttle, eases off the pace on that clock-dial, like some kid been fooling with the moving-picture projection machine and finally got tired watching the film run at ten times its natural speed, got bored with all that silly scampering and insect squeak of talk and turned it back to normal.

Jay’s mom was a lot of great things that Violet admired, technologically savvy was definitely not one of them. She was one of those people who were loath to move into the twenty-first century and embrace all things modern. She was the only adult woman that Violet knew of who didn’t own a cell phone, and she refused to buckle beneath the pressure to pay good money for high-speed internet, so Jay was forced to plug his secondhand laptop into the phone line and use dial-up. Not because they couldn’t afford such luxuries, but because Ann Heaton wasn’t going down without a fight.

The practice of meditation is like a long journey in the beautiful countryside. If you focus on the brakes, the speed dial, the accelerator, the mirror too often - you will take the fun out of the journey

We increasingly justify such heightened involvement with our children as essential to their survival. We keep them on speed dial. We watch them on Skype. We track their movements. We expect every call to be answered, every changed plan reported. We fantasize unprecedented new dangers in their every unsupervised encounter. We mention terrorism, we share anxious admonitions: “It’s different now.” “It’s not the way it was.” “You can’t let them do what we did.

You are not a hot mess or hopeless cause just because you're scared or out of sorts. We cannot hang up on the call for courage that speed dials us every day. If facing the simultaneous brokenness and possibility of living were easy, we wouldn't need therapists, besties, teachers, scientists, coaches, healers, artists, and comedians nudging us to critically think, take agency, be more self-compassionate, see our humanity, and stop taking ourselves and our so-called "failures" so seriously. "Failure" is how we learn and grow. Community and solidarity are how we heal.

Dell pulled out his cell phone, speed-dialed a number, and put the phone on speaker. A woman answered with a professionally irritated tone: “What do you need now?” “Jade,” Dell said. “Nope, it’s the Easter Bunny. And your keys are on your desk.” Dell shook his head. “Now darlin’, I don’t always call you just because I’ve lost my keys.” “I’m sorry, you’re right. You wallet’s on your desk, too. As for your little black book, you’re on your own with that one, Dr. Flirt. I’m at lunch.” Dell sighed. “What did we say about you and the whole power-play thing?” “That it’s good for your ego to have at least one woman in your life that you can’t flash a smile at and have them drop their panties?” Dell grinned. “I really like it when you say ‘panties.’ And for the record, I knew where my keys and wallet were.” “No you didn’t.” “Okay, I didn’t, but that’s not why I’m calling. Can you bring burgers and fries for me and Brady? Oh, and Adam, too, or he’ll bitch like a little girl.” “You mean ‘Jade, will you pretty please bring us burgers and fries?’” “Yes,” Dell said, nodding. “That. And Cokes.” He looked at Brady, who nodded. “And don’t forget the ketchup.” “You forgot the nice words.” “Oh, I’m sorry,” Dell said. “You look fantastic today, I especially love the attitude and sarcasm you’re wearing.” Jade’s voice went saccharine sweet. “So some low-fat chicken salads, no dressing, and ice water to go, then?” “Fine,” Dell said, and sighed. “Can we please have burgers and fries?" “You forgot the ‘Thank you, Goddess Jade,’ but we’ll work on that. Later, boss.

It is possible that librarians will be robots, controlled by Master Minds having mastery of a master computer at the Library of Congress. Or there will be no libraries and librarians, flesh-and-blood or otherwise. The onetime library patron will press a button and turn a dial on his TV, whereupon the requested book, in the desired language, will appear on the screen, the pages turning at the designated speed.

The landscape was misty and vague. I was still on the hill-side upon which this house now stands, and the shoulder rose above me grey and dim. I saw trees growing and changing like puffs of vapour, now brown, now green; they grew, spread, shivered, and passed away. I saw huge buildings rise up faint and fair, and pass like dreams. The whole surface of the earth seemed changed—melting and flowing under my eyes. The little hands upon the dials that registered my speed raced round faster and faster. Presently I noted that the sun belt swayed up and down, from solstice to solstice, in a minute or less, and that consequently my pace was over a year a minute; and minute by minute the white snow flashed across the world, and vanished, and was followed by the bright, brief green of spring.” ―The Time Machine,

The Garden" How vainly men themselves amaze To win the palm, the oak, or bays, And their uncessant labours see Crown’d from some single herb or tree, Whose short and narrow verged shade Does prudently their toils upbraid; While all flow’rs and all trees do close To weave the garlands of repose. Fair Quiet, have I found thee here, And Innocence, thy sister dear! Mistaken long, I sought you then In busy companies of men; Your sacred plants, if here below, Only among the plants will grow. Society is all but rude, To this delicious solitude. No white nor red was ever seen So am’rous as this lovely green. Fond lovers, cruel as their flame, Cut in these trees their mistress’ name; Little, alas, they know or heed How far these beauties hers exceed! Fair trees! wheres’e’er your barks I wound, No name shall but your own be found. When we have run our passion’s heat, Love hither makes his best retreat. The gods, that mortal beauty chase, Still in a tree did end their race: Apollo hunted Daphne so, Only that she might laurel grow; And Pan did after Syrinx speed, Not as a nymph, but for a reed. What wond’rous life in this I lead! Ripe apples drop about my head; The luscious clusters of the vine Upon my mouth do crush their wine; The nectarine and curious peach Into my hands themselves do reach; Stumbling on melons as I pass, Ensnar’d with flow’rs, I fall on grass. Meanwhile the mind, from pleasure less, Withdraws into its happiness; The mind, that ocean where each kind Does straight its own resemblance find, Yet it creates, transcending these, Far other worlds, and other seas; Annihilating all that’s made To a green thought in a green shade. Here at the fountain’s sliding foot, Or at some fruit tree’s mossy root, Casting the body’s vest aside, My soul into the boughs does glide; There like a bird it sits and sings, Then whets, and combs its silver wings; And, till prepar’d for longer flight, Waves in its plumes the various light. Such was that happy garden-state, While man there walk’d without a mate; After a place so pure and sweet, What other help could yet be meet! But ’twas beyond a mortal’s share To wander solitary there: Two paradises ’twere in one To live in paradise alone. How well the skillful gard’ner drew Of flow’rs and herbs this dial new, Where from above the milder sun Does through a fragrant zodiac run; And as it works, th’ industrious bee Computes its time as well as we. How could such sweet and wholesome hours Be reckon’d but with herbs and flow’rs!

We need to be humble enough to recognize that unforeseen things can and do happen that are nobody’s fault. A good example of this occurred during the making of Toy Story 2. Earlier, when I described the evolution of that movie, I explained that our decision to overhaul the film so late in the game led to a meltdown of our workforce. This meltdown was the big unexpected event, and our response to it became part of our mythology. But about ten months before the reboot was ordered, in the winter of 1998, we’d been hit with a series of three smaller, random events—the first of which would threaten the future of Pixar. To understand this first event, you need to know that we rely on Unix and Linux machines to store the thousands of computer files that comprise all the shots of any given film. And on those machines, there is a command—/bin/rm -r -f *—that removes everything on the file system as fast as it can. Hearing that, you can probably anticipate what’s coming: Somehow, by accident, someone used this command on the drives where the Toy Story 2 files were kept. Not just some of the files, either. All of the data that made up the pictures, from objects to backgrounds, from lighting to shading, was dumped out of the system. First, Woody’s hat disappeared. Then his boots. Then he disappeared entirely. One by one, the other characters began to vanish, too: Buzz, Mr. Potato Head, Hamm, Rex. Whole sequences—poof!—were deleted from the drive. Oren Jacobs, one of the lead technical directors on the movie, remembers watching this occur in real time. At first, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Then, he was frantically dialing the phone to reach systems. “Pull out the plug on the Toy Story 2 master machine!” he screamed. When the guy on the other end asked, sensibly, why, Oren screamed louder: “Please, God, just pull it out as fast as you can!” The systems guy moved quickly, but still, two years of work—90 percent of the film—had been erased in a matter of seconds. An hour later, Oren and his boss, Galyn Susman, were in my office, trying to figure out what we would do next. “Don’t worry,” we all reassured each other. “We’ll restore the data from the backup system tonight. We’ll only lose half a day of work.” But then came random event number two: The backup system, we discovered, hadn’t been working correctly. The mechanism we had in place specifically to help us recover from data failures had itself failed. Toy Story 2 was gone and, at this point, the urge to panic was quite real. To reassemble the film would have taken thirty people a solid year. I remember the meeting when, as this devastating reality began to sink in, the company’s leaders gathered in a conference room to discuss our options—of which there seemed to be none. Then, about an hour into our discussion, Galyn Susman, the movie’s supervising technical director, remembered something: “Wait,” she said. “I might have a backup on my home computer.” About six months before, Galyn had had her second baby, which required that she spend more of her time working from home. To make that process more convenient, she’d set up a system that copied the entire film database to her home computer, automatically, once a week. This—our third random event—would be our salvation. Within a minute of her epiphany, Galyn and Oren were in her Volvo, speeding to her home in San Anselmo. They got her computer, wrapped it in blankets, and placed it carefully in the backseat. Then they drove in the slow lane all the way back to the office, where the machine was, as Oren describes it, “carried into Pixar like an Egyptian pharaoh.” Thanks to Galyn’s files, Woody was back—along with the rest of the movie.

The wine softened June, made her less anxious and talkative, as if it had reduced her rotation speed on a dial. But none of her three table companions was particularly talkative, so it was good to be able to count on her to prevent any likely silences.

I have dinner for the whole crew at Mitchell Park in Tempe right now. Bring the truck.… Yes, there is enough for everybody, trust me. See you there.” Whoa. He had ghouls on speed dial. My lawyer kicks so much ass.

All I want for my birthday is to get fucked unconscious with no strings attached.” Not a lie. “What a coincidence. I’ve got a big dick, a bar tab, and the local cab company’s number on speed dial.” The guy’s eyes bore into me from behind the dark lenses, and I have a momentary lapse in vaginal secretion control. Clean up on aisle twelve, stat!

What are we left with then? We are left with a system where ObamaCare is a rule for, as Leona Helmsley so famously described them, the little people. For everybody who doesn't have power and juice and connections in Washington, for everyone--look for the men and women at home, maybe you have an army of lobbyists working for you. Maybe you have Senators' cell phones on your speed dial. Maybe you can walk the corridors of power. In that case you too get an exemption. But if you are just a hard-working American, if you are just trying to provide for your family, if you are just trying to do an honest day's work, make your community better, raise your kids, set a good example, then the message this President has sent--and sadly the message the Senate has sent--is you don't count. We are going to treat everybody else better than you.   That

Daniel reloaded, tucked away his gun, then took out the satellite phone. The cell stations were out all over the city, but the sat phone worked great. He checked the time, hit the speed dial, then waited for a link. It always took a few seconds. In that time, he stood taller, straightened himself, and resumed his normal manner. When the connection was made, Daniel reported. “Tolliver James is dead. He didn’t provide anything useful.” Daniel listened for a moment before responding. “No, sir, they’re gone. That much is confirmed. James was a good bet, but I don’t believe she told him anything.” He listened again, this time for quite a while. “No, sir, that is not altogether true. There are three or four people here I’d still like to talk to, but the storm has turned this place to shit. They’ve almost certainly evacuated. I just don’t know. It will take me a while to locate them.” More chatter from the other side, but then they were finished. “Yes, sir, I understand. You get yours, I get mine. I won’t let you down.” A last word from the master. “Yes, sir. Thank you. I’ll keep you informed.” Daniel shut the phone and put it away. “Asshole.” He

Everything goes forward like oiled clocks; for each minute of the dial there are a million noiseless clocks which tick off the rinds of time. We are traveling faster than the lightning calculator, faster than starlight, faster than the magician can think. Each second is a universe of time. And each universe of time is but a wink of sleep in the cosmogony of speed. When speed comes to its end we shall be there, punctual as always and blissfully undenominated. We shall shed our wings, our clocks and our mantelpieces to lean on. We will rise up feathery and jubilant, like a column of blood, and there will be no memory to drag us down again.

Not meaning to disrespect the Lincolns in any way, but they’re looking into this because they’re paid to look into it. Not because they necessarily think there’s anything to go on.” He paused. “However, if they come up with something solid. I mean solid. Real proof a crime has been committed here. Something that will stand up in court, then we’ll take another look. But until then …” He closed the file folder in front of him with a swish, sat back, adjusted his navy-blue tie, and looked at Hank. Hank studied Diego a moment and then finally stood. “All right. Thanks, Captain,” he said reluctantly as he turned and left the room. Hank knew Diego had done the logical thing. As head of the Richmond Hill Police Department, Captain Diego had worked his way up through the ranks and was well respected by the men under him. That wasn’t to say Diego was always right, of course, but he was the captain. He sighed and stabbed speed dial on his cell phone. “Jake here.” “Hey, Jake, the captain closed the file. Mrs. Macy’s death has officially been labeled a suicide by the coroner.” “So the investigators found nothing either?” Jake asked. “Nope. I have all the reports right here. If you guys are going to be home for a while, I’ll drop them over.” “Sure,” Jake said. “We’re here now. Come on over.” “Be right there.” Hank touched the cell phone and ended the call, shoving it into his pocket. He made photocopies of the papers, went to his desk, and slipped them into his briefcase. Before leaving, he poked his head back into Diego’s office. “Can we at least have an autopsy done?” he asked. Diego sighed. “All right. I’ll get the coroner to do a full autopsy. Then we’ll close the case.” “Thanks, Captain,” Hank said. He turned and left the precinct. Thursday, August 18th, 9:22 a.m. JAKE SWUNG the front door open when Hank knocked. “Come on in. Annie’s in the kitchen. There’s some fresh coffee on.” He led the way and Hank followed. Annie greeted Hank with a smile as he and Jake dropped into chairs at the kitchen table. Jake slouched back, using another chair to prop up his feet, while Annie poured three steaming mugs of coffee. She set them on the table with cream and sugar and sat at the end. Hank opened his briefcase and removed the folder of reports. He dropped them on the table in front of Annie. “It’s all here,” he said. “Police report. Coroner’s report. Doctor’s report. Drug screen.” Annie flipped open the folder and browsed the papers while Hank and Jake prepared their coffee. Lots of sugar in

If in Los Angeles in 1949 he had preached “fast and loud,” by the time he got to New York in 1957 he had learned to dial down the speed and let the microphone do the heavy lifting.

The shutter speed dial is used to set the shutter speed when you are using Shutter Priority mode or Manual exposure mode. If

I lowered my face, took two more steps—and that was when I spotted Coach Bobby and his buddies in a Ford Expedition. Sigh. All four of them were there: Assistant Coach Pat drove, Coach Bobby was in the passenger seat, the other two slabs of beef sat in the back. I took out my mobile phone and hit the speed-dial button one. Win answered on the first ring. “Articulate,” Win said. That’s how he always answers the phone, even when he can clearly see on the caller ID that it’s me, and yes, it is annoying. “You better circle back,” I said. “Oh,” Win said, his voice kid-on-Christmas-morning happy, “goodie, goodie.

I lowered my face, took two more steps—and that was when I spotted Coach Bobby and his buddies in a Ford Expedition. Sigh. All four of them were there: Assistant Coach Pat drove, Coach Bobby was in the passenger seat, the other two slabs of beef sat in the back. I took out my mobile phone and hit the speed-dial button one. Win answered on the first ring. “Articulate,” Win said. That’s how he always answers the phone, even when he can clearly see on the caller ID that it’s me, and yes, it is annoying. “You better circle back,” I said. “Oh,” Win said, his voice kid-on-Christmas-morning happy, “goodie, goodie.” “How long will it take?” “I’m just down the street. I suspected something like this might occur.” “Don’t shoot anyone,” I said. “Yes, Mother.” My car was parked near the back of the lot. The Expedition followed slowly. The drizzle picked up a bit. I wondered what their plan was—something moronically macho, no doubt—and decided to just play it as it lays. Win’s Jag appeared and waited in the distance. I drive a Ford Taurus, aka The Chick Trawler. Win hates my car. He won’t sit in it. I took out my keys and hit the remote. The car made that little ding noise and unlocked. I slipped inside. The Expedition made its big move then. It raced forward and stopped directly behind the Taurus, blocking me in. Coach Bobby jumped out first, petting his goatee. His two buddies followed. I

What were you looking for over here?” Jim asked again. “I wonder if you can exorcise hands…hmm? Oh, where on the wall was that place I sent you through before. Do you remember?” Jim shook its head. “Why are you looking for that particular spot? It have fond memories for you or something?” “Hardly. You told me that it was easier to tear the fabric of existence in a spot where it had previously been rent. And I know I sent you through it from this room, but I don’t remember where, exactly.” I glanced at the clock on the mantel, leaping to my feet when I saw the time. “Oh my god. Oh my god! Tell me that clock isn’t right!” “That clock isn’t right.” Relief made me sag a bit as I dug through my purse looking for my cell phone. “Thank god. I was worried there for a minute that I’d missed the wedding.” “You have,” Jim said complacently, snuffling around behind the fainting couch. “What? You just told me the clock was wrong!” “Yuh-uh. And who ordered me to tell her that?” “Gah!” I screamed, punching a speed-dial number into the phone. “Talk about your day from hell…Jim, look around and find the weak spot. I’m not going to let something like a deranged Guardian ruin my day.” “Sooo many things I could say to that,” Jim said, shaking its head. “I’ll confine myself to pointing out that even if I found the spot, it wouldn’t do you any good.” “It wouldn’t? Why not?” Inside my head, a dark, sinuous voice whistled a peppy little tune. I ground my teeth. “Don’t tell me—I’d have to use the dark power in order to push us through.” “Yup.” Smirk. “Bloody he—Drake!” “Aisling?” I held the phone away from my ear at the sound of Drake’s roar. “Hi, sweetie. Um. I guess we’re even on the whole jilting-at-the-altar thing, huh?” “Where are you? Where have you been? Why have you not answered my calls?” Drake growled. “Rene and your uncle said you just disappeared on the street. Have you been harmed?” “I’m fine. Jim’s here with me. I’m in…er…oh, hell.” “Abaddon,” Jim corrected.

He nodded again. She walked away. Myron stood and headed in the opposite direction. He took out his cell phone and hit the speed-dial number one slot. Win answered it. “Articulate.” “Was it Katie Rochester?” He had expected something like this—Katie not cooperating. So Myron had prepared. Win was on the scene in Manhattan, ready to follow. It was, in fact, better. She would head back to wherever she was hiding. Win would tag along and learn all. “Looked like her,” Win said. “She was with a dark-haired paramour.

He nodded again. She walked away. Myron stood and headed in the opposite direction. He took out his cell phone and hit the speed-dial number one slot. Win answered it. “Articulate.” “Was it Katie Rochester?” He had expected something like this—Katie not cooperating. So Myron had prepared. Win was on the scene in Manhattan, ready to follow. It was, in fact, better. She would head back to wherever she was hiding. Win would tag along and learn all. “Looked like her,” Win said. “She was with a dark-haired paramour.” “And now?” “After hanging up, she and said paramour began heading downtown by foot. By the way, the paramour is carrying a firearm in a shoulder holster.” That wasn’t good. “You’re on them?” “I’ll pretend you didn’t ask me that.” “I’m on my way.

Gluttony is depression suppressed by excessive food intake. Gluttony, of course, brings on extra weight and extra weight encourages slothfulness. Slothfulness engages poverty and poverty has death on speed dial. To

There’s a man in the house claims he’s staying here,” said Roger. “Sandy’s keeping him talking but I’ve got the police on speed dial.

What kind of future did the men envision? One of the more intriguing attributes of the Bell System was that an apparent simplicity—just pick up the phone and dial—hid its increasingly fiendish interior complexity. What also seemed true, and even then looked to be a governing principle of the new information age, was that the more complex the system became in terms of capabilities, speed, and versatility, the simpler and sleeker it appeared.

Similarity. Analogy is one of the most powerful creative tools. We’ll dig deeper into the power of analogy in the next chapter. Here, consider parallel contexts at one end of the dial and completely unrelated ones at the other. To think of good analogies to try, start with the intended outcome. Want to make ice cream faster? “Who or what is built for speed?” Want to delight your customers? “Who or what delights people?” The brain solves new problems in this way, using its understanding of a familiar topic to grapple with one that appears very different on the surface. You might apply the lessons of high school football to your first job managing a team, or transplant one of Napoleon’s battlefield strategies to a product launch. Consciously or unconsciously, we distill principles from observations and then see where else they might fit. How might we make ice cream like a therapy session? How might an Olympic sprinter serve up an ice cream cone? How might Apple design a container for ice cream sprinkles? How might eating ice cream feel like a roller coaster? Like a magic show? Like a horror movie? HMW questions can be silly or serious.

Google effect (the) – also known as the digital amnesia bias. The propensity for a person to not remember something he knows he can access easily through an external means. For example, an individual may not know the telephone number of someone on speed dial, or may not remember information that can be looked up quickly online.

I've always kept one emotional suitcase packed. With you, I live out of one, every day, and I keep a cab on speed dial.

Jun snorted. “A reality like that would require Victor Bayne on speed dial.

In the morning, I jumped out of bed with a burst of excitement, the song “Child of Mine” playing in my head. Happy birthday to me! I’d been wanting a baby for the past several years, and finding a donor I felt so comfortable with seemed like the best birthday present ever. Heading to the computer, I smiled at my good fortune—I was really going to do this. I typed in the sperm bank’s URL, found the donor’s profile, and read it all over again. I was just as certain as I’d been the night before that he was The One—the one that would make sense to my child when he or she asked why, of all the possible donors, I chose this guy. I placed the donor in my online shopping cart—just as I might with a book on Amazon—double-checked the order, then clicked Purchase Vials. I’m having a baby! I thought. The moment felt monumental. As the order processed, I planned what I had to do next: Make an appointment for the insemination, buy prenatal vitamins, put together a baby registry, get the baby’s room set up. Between thoughts, I noticed that my order was taking a while to complete. The rotating circle on my screen, known as the “spinning wheel of death,” seemed to be spinning for an unusually long time. I waited, waited some more, and finally tried using the back button in case my computer was crashing. But nothing happened. Finally, the spinning wheel of death disappeared and a message popped up: Out of stock. Out of stock? I figured there must be some computer glitch—maybe when I pressed the back button?—so I speed-dialed the sperm bank and asked for Kathleen, but she was out and I got transferred to a customer-service rep named Barb. Barb looked into the matter and determined that this was no glitch. I’d selected a very popular donor, she said. She went on to explain that popular donors went quickly and that, while the company tried to “restock” their “inventory” often, there was a six-month hold for it so it could get quarantined and tested. Even when the inventory was made available, she said, there still might be a long wait, because some people had placed it on back order. As Barb spoke, I thought of how Kathleen had called just yesterday. Now it occurred to me that maybe she’d suggested this donor to several women. Like me, maybe many women had bonded with Kathleen over her honest appraisals of semen.

I’ll never forget that first report, the Cape Town outbreak, only ten minutes of actual reporting then a full hour of speculating about what would happen if the virus ever made it to America. God bless the news. I hit speed dial thirty seconds later. I met with some of my nearest and dearest. They’d all seen the same report. I was the first one to come up with a workable pitch: a vaccine, a real vaccine for rabies. Thank God there is no cure for rabies. A cure would make people buy it only if they thought they were infected. But a vaccine! That’s preventative! People will keep taking that as long as they’re afraid it’s out there!

Say hello to your nephew.” Declan preens like a peacock showing off its feathers. It’s the most un-Declan-like behavior I have seen, which only makes me laugh. “Could be a girl,” I tease. Declan taps his chest. “I have a good intuition, and my gut tells me it’s a boy.” Rowan’s eyes roll. “And if it is a girl?” “I already have a heart doctor on speed dial and every police captain in Chicago under my payroll to arrest anyone who steps within six feet of her.” “You can’t arrest every guy or girl they’re interested in,” I say. He swipes the photo out of Rowan’s hands while glaring at me. “Watch me.

You’re not going to have kids?” Carson asks. “I would have thought you needed someone to carry on the famous Orson Ass.” I pause, my mind reeling. Holy. Fuck. “Hell, I didn’t even think about that.” I grip my forehead in distress. “Great, look what you just did,” Knox says while I pick up my phone to text Dottie. “Don’t text Dottie, Carson was just being a dick.” “No, this is not something we considered. We need to talk about this, right away.” I excuse myself from the table and weave my way through the restaurant until I find a quiet corner near the bathrooms. I dial “Bae’s” phone number and wait impatiently for her to answer. “Hey, aren’t you are at brunch with the boys?” she asks when she answers. “Dottie, we didn’t talk about something really important and now I’m freaking the fuck out.” “What did we not talk about?” she calmly asks. “You know that conversation we had awhile back about not having any kids?” “Yesss,” she drags out. I glance around to make sure no one is listening to me, stuff my hand in my pocket and quietly ask, “What about my butt?” Silence. Then . . . “Uh, what about your butt?” “You know . . .” “I really don’t know and I have a meeting in ten minutes, so if you can speed this up, I’d appreciate it.” “Dottie, if we don’t have kids, my butt dies with me.” “Your butt is dying with you either way, unless you have some sort of insane idea that I get your butt molded in gold or something, which although I wouldn’t put that past you, it’s not happening. Is that what you mean? You want to mold your butt and give it to our kids? You know I’m all about weird gifts but that’s just not something you should give your offspring.” “I’m not talking about that, but thanks for the idea, writing that in my will.” I hear her exaggerated breath. “I’m saying if we don’t have kids, I won’t pass my butt genes on to anyone and is that really fair to the human race? To stop my butt here?” “You’re serious?” “Dead serious. The butt can’t end with me. And what about my potato salad recipe? No one will say hey, you know what, I have my grandpa’s potato salad recipe I can make to bring to the barbeque. And that’s sacrilege.

cut a glare at Zelphar. His bossiness was on speed dial this morning, and I was about to disconnect the line.

I didn’t grow up literary and cultured. I used to do speed art – dashing through a gallery between the blockbuster pieces, in a bucket-list way. And when lines of poetry were quoted in a book, I’d skip over them. But it was actually while researching this book and wading curiously into dense essays and texts, following a thread and then applying myself mindfully to big, wise words and expressions which had to be understood with the heart, that I got a feel for how the considered study of life could also dial me directly back into life.

Declan taps his chest. “I have a good intuition, and my gut tells me it’s a boy.” Rowan’s eyes roll. “And if it is a girl?” “I already have a heart doctor on speed dial and every police captain in Chicago under my payroll to arrest anyone who steps within six feet of her.” “You can’t arrest every guy or girl they’re interested in,” I say. He swipes the photo out of Rowan’s hands while glaring at me. “Watch me.

I take a sip of my soda and glance up at the front of the bus, knowing Derek will be doing much the same within a few hours of touching down in Illinois. For all the pomp and ceremony and the big money in the balance, we’re both minstrels, always on the road, always moving. Which would be fine if we were doing it together. But not like this. I press Terry’s speed dial number, and she answers on the third ring. I clear my throat, and when I speak it’s an adult’s voice, not an adolescent asking for permission. “Terry? We need to talk.” Chapter 39 The week’s dragged on, every minute feeling like days, but finally it’s time for Derek to arrive – our first show will be tonight, in Kansas City, with seven more shows over the next ten days throughout the Midwest. My second single released two days ago and is the number one song in the country. Derek’s first single is at

The most important thing for you to do,” he’d said, “is to make your aura as benign as possible.” “My aura? You mean, what, like my chi or something? Give off warm vibes before I blow them all away?” “You laugh, but it's true. The best close-in killers are able to mask that predatory vibration they send out, the thing that tickles your animal hindbrain when you're on the receiving end and causes all the hairs on your neck to stand up, the old ancestral genetic early-warning radar that told you something had you zeroed in and was moving to make the kill.” “Are you saying they'll be able to sense I'm going to kill them?” I had asked. “If they are good at their jobs, yes. A good bodyguard, really anyone with true combat instincts, can tune in on that aggressive mental energy when it's pointed their way. For most people, it only works at a subconscious level - like instinctively moving out of the way of someone because they make you uneasy and you can't quite put your finger on why, or turning around for no reason and seeing that someone across the room is glaring at you. We all do it from time to time, but it's not conscious. But the real survivors, the operators who dodge those shots that should have taken them down, but they somehow avoid at the last millisecond, those people can use their inner threat radar actively, and can pick up on the predatory vibe coming their way.” “So you're saying I need to act casual, and not give them the stink-eye to keep from tipping them off.” “It’s more than that. You need to learn how to control that aggressive aura, make it work for you. A good killer can put themselves into stealth mode right up to when they pull the trigger, and then when all the innocent bystanders are getting in the way and slowing you down, milling about in a panic, you dial it up all the way and blast it out like the bow-wave on a ship running at flank speed. You can clear a path through the crowd; they'll get out of your way without even knowing why. I've made it work for me, and I’ve seen others do it as well. It's just another weapon in your arsenal.” And so, I did

my watch and see that Derek’s going to be on in twenty-five minutes. Crap. Time totally got away from me. I want to talk to him someplace private, but then maybe right before he goes on stage isn’t the best time to declare my undying love and, more importantly, for me to try to gauge his reactions. My phone vibrates. It’s Melody. I glance at the message. Mel: Need to talk 2 u. Me: Got a show coming up. Mel: Call. Please. I think about how many times Melody’s been there for me, and I shake my head as I press her speed dial number. When she answers she sounds frazzled. “Thank God. Can you talk?” she blurts.

Wanasayansi wana uwezo wa kupeleleza hadi kipindi cha karne ya kwanza ambapo Yesu aliishi, alikufa, alifufuka na alipaa kwenda mbinguni, na wana uwezo wa kujua mambo mengi kwa hakika yaliyofanyika katika kipindi hicho na hata katika kipindi cha kabla ya hapo. Kuna miujiza ambayo Yesu aliifanya ambayo haiko ndani ya Biblia. Kwa mfano, Biblia inasema Yesu alizaliwa ndani ya zizi la ng’ombe wakati sayansi inasema alizaliwa nje ya zizi la ng’ombe; na muujiza wa kwanza kuufanya ambao hauko ndani ya Biblia ni kutembea mara tu baada ya kuzaliwa, na watu na ndege wa angani kuganda kabla ya kuzaliwa Masihi na kabla ya wakunga kufika kumsaidia Maria Magdalena kujifungua. Akiwa na umri wa miaka sita, sayansi inasema, Yesu alikuwa akicheza na mtoto mwenzake juu ya paa la nyumba ya jirani na mara Yesu akamsukuma mwenzake kutoka juu hadi chini na mwenzake huyo akafariki papo hapo. Watu walipomsonga sana Yesu kwa kumtuhumu kuwa yeye ndiye aliyesababisha kifo cha mwenzake, na kwamba wangemfungulia mashtaka, Yesu alikataa katakata kuhusika na kifo hicho. Lakini walipozidi kumsonga, aliusogelea mwili wa rafiki yake kisha akamwita na kumwambia asimame. Yule mtoto alisimama! Huo ukawa muujiza mkubwa wa kwanza wa Yesu Kristo, kufufua mtu nje ya maandiko matakatifu. Kuna mifano mingi inayodhihirisha uwepo wa Mungu ambayo wanasayansi hawawezi hata kuipatia majibu. Tukio la Yoshua kusimamisha jua limewashangaza wanasayansi hadi nyakati za leo. Mwanzoni mwa miaka ya 70 wanasayansi walijaribu kurudisha muda nyuma kwa kompyuta kuona kama kweli wangekuta takribani siku moja imepotea kama ilivyorekodiwa katika Biblia. Cha kushangaza, cha kushangaza mno, walikuta saa 23 na dakika 20 zimepotea katika mazingira ambayo hawakuweza na hawataweza kuyaelewa. Walipochunguza vizuri walikuta ni kipindi cha miaka ya 1500 KK (Jumanne tarehe 22 Julai) ambacho ndicho tukio la Yoshua la kusimamisha jua na kusogeza mwezi nyuma digrii 10, ambazo ni sawa na mzunguko wa dakika 40, lilipotokea. Kwa kutumia elimu ya wendo, elimu ya kupanga miaka na matukio ya Kibiblia, dunia iliumbwa Jumapili tarehe 22 Septemba mwaka 4000 KK. Hata hivyo, mahesabu ya kalenda yanaonyesha kuwa Septemba 22 ilikuwa Jumatatu (si Jumapili) na kwamba kosa hilo labda lilisababishwa na siku ya Yoshua iliyopotea. Hayo yote ni kwa mujibu wa Profesa C. A. Totten, wa Chuo Kikuu cha Yale, katika kitabu chake cha ‘Joshua’s Long Day and the Dial of Ahaz: A Scientific Vindication and a Midnight Cry’ kilichochapishwa mwaka 1890. Kama hakuna Mungu iliwezekanaje Yoshua aombe jua lisimame na jua likasimama kweli? Iliwezekanaje Yesu aseme atakufa, atafufuka na atapaa kwenda mbinguni na kweli ikatokea kama alivyosema? Ndani ya Biblia kuna tabiri 333 zilizotabiri maisha yote ya Yesu Kristo hapa duniani na zote zilitimia – bila kupungua hata moja. Utasemaje hapo hakuna Mungu? Mungu yupo, naamini, sijui. Tukio la Yesu kufa, kufufuka na kupaa kwenda mbinguni si la vitabu vitakatifu pekee, hata sayansi inakubaliana na hilo.

These are the women my father warned me about. The drug-and-asshole-addled women who sit in the dark, hard up and lovesick, chainsmoking cigarettes, phones pressed to their ears, speed-dialing K-Earth 101 FM, the oldies station, so they can request Nina Simone or the Shirelles' "This is Dedicated to the One I Love," aka "This Is Dedicated to Niggers That Beat Me Senseless and Leave". "Stay away from bitches who love Nina Simone and have faggots for best friends," he'd say. "They hate men.

Full of confidence, I jab at the ON button and wait for the machine to spring into action. When nothing happens, I flip the switch back and forth impatiently. Come on! What is wrong with the damn thing? As I try desperately to get the blender to work, Pearl carries on with her class regardless. Starting to panic that she has now moved on to caramelising the berries, I give the blender a hard whack on the side. For a split second, it begins to whirr before fizzling out into silence. Grabbing the rolling pin in frustration, I repeatedly hit the blender until my arm starts to throb. Suddenly it kicks into action, only my heavy bashing has knocked the lid clean off, resulting in sticky, butter soaked crumbs flying all over the kitchen. Letting out an alarmed squeal, I duck under the table to shield myself from the debris. Pieces of biscuit whiz past my eyes like a scene out of a cartoon. And to think this started so well. Tearing off my hairnet, I dig my mobile out of the pocket of my apron and hit speed dial before letting out an exasperated sigh. ‘Hi,

It isn’t about miracles or proof or having God on speed dial. You want to be close to God? Reach down and help your neighbor. Faith without works is dead…and maybe in the end, works is all that matters.

They both got in their cars. Myron watched Erik drive off. Then he picked up the cell phone and hit Win’s speed dial. “Articulate.” “I need you to break into a house.” “Goody. Please explain.” “I found a path where I dropped Aimee off. It leads to another cul-de-sac.” “Ah. Do we have a thought then about where she ended up?” “Sixteen Fernlake Court.” “You sound fairly certain.” “There’s a car in the driveway. On the back windshield is a sticker. It’s for teacher parking at Livingston High School.” “On my way.

At sea, navigators need to know how fast their vessel is moving through the water. Prior to the GPS, this was done with a nautical instrument known as a log. The devise that was attached to the handrail around the stern of the ship was known as a taffrail log. These instruments consisted of an impeller, or rotator made of brass, usually with four blades, a reading dial accurately calibrated, and a line that connected the two parts. As the impeller was dragged through the sea it rotated, turning the dial that registered the ships speed in knots, which equal one nautical mile per hour. The taffrail log usually registered the ships speed in knots, and tenths of a knot….. The earliest known taffrail log, also known as patent log, was designed in 1688 by an Englishman, Humphry Cole. Taffrail logs were later manufactured by the Lionel Corporation, perhaps better known for the manufacturing of model trains. They remained in business from 1900 to 1995, producing “Taffrail Logs” for the US Navy during World War II.

Set up committees that you can tap into when you have questions, and have a few salespeople on speed dial. As a salesperson, I care about closing more business with less work. Salespeople want shortcuts to success, and they want the secrets of success, now. Know this as you tailor your vision statement and business case and communicate value.

There’s nothing. I’ve gone through half my speed dials, and there’s not anything.

her building. For some reason, she did not feel like going home to an empty condo. The story she wanted to write could wait until tomorrow. She pulled out her cell phone and speed-dialed a number. “Hi mom, this is Grace,” she said. “I was wondering, is it too late to drop by and see you?” Her mom was silent. Echo suddenly had a feeling it was a bad idea to call her. “Of course not,” her mom finally said. “Why don’t you come

Roadside situations can be quite stressful. Whether your car has been involved in a crash, suffered a flat tire, or stalled in the middle of nowhere, the situation can cause serious inconveniences. But no matter how careful you are as a driver or how well maintained your vehicle is, untoward roadside situations can occur at any time. If such problems arise when you are far from an auto shop, you may have to seek professional roadside assistance from a towing service in Carrollton, TX. Therefore, to avoid frustrations associated with roadside emergencies, you need to have a professional tow truck service on speed dial.

Do you know what it’s like to date the daughter of a big, burly black guy who has 50 Cent on speed dial? High stress, man—that’s what it’s like.

Flanked on either side of the frontwoman, the other Fades were in equally terrible condition. Their skin, different shades of weathered tan, sagged off their limbs. One of them swung a Birkin bag from her crooked elbow because apparently even walking corpses needed a place to hold their cell phones with the grim reaper on speed dial.