Video Good Morning Quotes

Texts between Dr. Stayner & Livie(with a little help from Kacey) Dr. Stayner: Tell me you did one out-of-character thing last night Livie: I drank enough Jell-O shots to fill a small pool, and then proceeded to break out every terrible dance move known to mankind. I am now the proud owner of a tattoo and if I didn’t have a video to prove otherwise, I’d believe I had it done in a back alley with hepatitis-laced needles. Satisfied? Dr. Stayner: That’s a good start. Did you talk to a guy? Kacey(answering for Livie): Not only did I talk to a guy but I’ve now seen two penises, including the one attached to the naked man in my room this morning when I woke up. I have pictures. Would you like to see one? Dr. Stayner: Glad you’re making friends. Talk to you on Saturday

I feel like finally, I’ve gotten it together: I’ve hit my stride. I can do this. So when I walk into school that cold January morning, holding Peter’s hand, full on banana pancakes, with a new job and wearing Margot’s Fair Isle sweater she left behind, I am feeling good. Great, even. Peter wants to stop in the computer lab to print out his English paper, so that’s our first stop. He logs in, and I gasp out loud when I see the wallpaper. Someone has taken a still of the hot tub video, of me in Peter’s lap in my red flannel nightgown, skirt hitched up around my thighs, and across the top it reads HOT HOT TUB SEX. And on the bottom--YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG. “What the hell?” Peter mutters, looking around the computer lab. Nobody looks up. He goes to the next computer--same picture, different caption. SHE DOESN’T KNOW ABOUT SHRINKAGE on top. HE’S HAPPY WITH WHAT HE CAN GET across the bottom. We are a meme.

About the time Phil set out to film the first Duckmen of Louisiana video in 1987, there had been a really bad ice storm in West Monroe, which was kind of rare. It was so cold that a lot of the water on our property froze, so there was nowhere for the ducks to go. We climbed into our trucks and headed south to find the ducks. When we arrived at Lake Maurepas in South Louisiana, our guide took us to a hunting camp that was located about eight miles into the swamp. As we made our way to the camp near sunset, there were so many ducks flying overhead that duck feces started hitting the boat like it was a hailstorm--that’s what we call a poop storm! The sound of all those ducks was like a roar. The ice storm had pushed all the ducks south. It was the most ducks I’d ever seen. The next morning, we called in a group of about three thousand ducks! They funneled into our decoys like a cyclone. It took them over thirty minutes to land. Hundreds of ducks landed in front of us and swam to the edge of our hole, and then more would land in the vacated areas. We sat in stunned silence during the entire event. Finally, Phil whispered to us to be careful because we might kill more ducks than we needed with stray shot, since there were so many of them and they were so close together. My dad thought he saw a rare duck and without warning broke the silence with a gun blast. The roar of the ducks getting up was deafening. We only shot once per hunter and had our limit. It would have never happened if we hadn’t been completely concealed in our blind. It was one of the most amazing sights I’ve ever seen.

In the future that globalists and feminists have imagined, for most of us there will only be more clerkdom and masturbation. There will only be more apologizing, more submission, more asking for permission to be men. There will only be more examinations, more certifications, mandatory prerequisites, screening processes, background checks, personality tests, and politicized diagnoses. There will only be more medication. There will be more presenting the secretary with a cup of your own warm urine. There will be mandatory morning stretches and video safety presentations and sign-off sheets for your file. There will be more helmets and goggles and harnesses and bright orange vests with reflective tape. There can only be more counseling and sensitivity training. There will be more administrative hoops to jump through to start your own business and keep it running. There will be more mandatory insurance policies. There will definitely be more taxes. There will probably be more Byzantine sexual harassment laws and corporate policies and more ways for women and protected identity groups to accuse you of misconduct. There will be more micro-managed living, pettier regulations, heavier fines, and harsher penalties. There will be more ways to run afoul of the law and more ways for society to maintain its pleasant illusions by sweeping you under the rug. In 2009 there were almost five times more men either on parole or serving prison terms in the United States than were actively serving in all of the armed forces.[64] If you’re a good boy and you follow the rules, if you learn how to speak passively and inoffensively, if you can convince some other poor sleepwalking sap that you are possessed with an almost unhealthy desire to provide outstanding customer service or increase operational efficiency through the improvement of internal processes and effective organizational communication, if you can say stupid shit like that without laughing, if your record checks out and your pee smells right—you can get yourself a J-O-B. Maybe you can be the guy who administers the test or authorizes the insurance policy. Maybe you can be the guy who helps make some soulless global corporation a little more money. Maybe you can get a pat on the head for coming up with the bright idea to put a bunch of other guys out of work and outsource their boring jobs to guys in some other place who are willing to work longer hours for less money. Whatever you do, no matter what people say, no matter how many team-building activities you attend or how many birthday cards you get from someone’s secretary, you will know that you are a completely replaceable unit of labor in the big scheme of things.

The morning was already setting up to be hectic, and Jon thanked his lucky stars that Jessie was so good at his job and a constant spark-plug of activity. Oh god, you did not just think Jessie was a spark-plug? You really are getting old. Next thing you know you’ll being saying whipper-snappers and break a hip getting out of bed. He shook his head. I guess I had a good run. Jessie quickly re-entered the office. “Alright. Elisabeth has her caffeine fix and said she’ll be down to say goodbye in a few. So let’s get this bad boy going for the week. Travel plans are done for next month and meetings for the week are in you planner so I’m assuming they’ll be no more complaining about flying coach class this time?” Jessie gave a sly wink and kept organizing his desk. “Yes. And for that I thank you for that my color-coding, hyper computer organized planner. We have to make sure the next presentation for Chicago is ready in three weeks; the storyboards for the new campaign ideas have to be finished by Tuesday the 16th so we can get them shipped before I head out there.” “And let’s not forget our important morning ritual.” Jon looked at Jessie with a question about to form before the realization hit him. His expression changed from confused to stern. “No cat videos Jessie. I swear. Enough of the cat videos.” “C’mon. You know you love them and they brighten your dour moods. Look at this one.” Jessie turned his screen and Jon begrudgingly looked at the cute little puppy and kitten with captions over them. “How can you not love this?” Jessie smiled. “The cute little kitty tells the playful puppy not to do it and yet the puppy bonks the little kitty on the head with his little puppy paw. “Boop Boop.” And then the cat swipes at the puppy and it falls off the bed. You know this is internet gold.” Jon smiled. “Can we get back to work?” Jessie nodded and then walked up to Jon - without hesitating, he bonked him lightly on the head. “Boop.” He paused and added, “I think this puppy is onto something.” Jessie grinned ear to ear still. “I pledge, from now on if something makes me as happy as this bonking picture I’m just going to say Boop boop.” Jon stood stone-faced but a second later, could not stop his smile. “I am not amused.” Jon shook the smile away. “Now, if you’re done boop booping me, there is something else I want to talk with you about.” Jessie looked at Jon with a quizzical smile. “Not to blow my own horn but I have a new and brilliant thought my young apprentice.” Jessie opened his mouth to comment on the blowing horn, but Jon held up his hand and cut him off. “Stop it.” Jessie closed his mouth and swallowed the sexual innuendo-laced comment he had forming on the tip of his tongue.

Rule number one: There will be no large gatherings of the people to preach to each other. Rule number two: You will not sing your stupid little songs to your imaginary savior or God. Rule number three: You will not quote passages from that book you so adore. Rule number four: You will get up in the mornings when your person in charge says you will get up. You will also go to bed when your person in charge says to go to bed. Rule number five: The person in charge can appoint someone to be their eyes and ears. Video cameras can only pick up so much, so we need to know who the subversives in your groups are so we can deal with them before they cause too much trouble. “If even one of you does not abide by these rules, there will be consequences for your group. Punishment is completely up to your person in charge. If you abide by these rules and be good boys and girls, I’m sure we’ll get along famously. Too-da-loo and so long for now.

Monitor baths: For some children bathtime winds them up. If that is the case, do it earlier in your routine, or leave it for the morning. For others, it is calming. • Avoid electronics and TV, which can have a reawakening effect on many children. They seem calm and cozied in as they watch TV, but then they are excited when the video is done. Best not to use electronics or TV close to bedtime. • Keep routines short and simple. They should take no more than an hour (at most, if you are including the bath), and thirty minutes is even better. Lengthier routines get children stirred up as they have extra time to anticipate the inevitable separation. • Let them have simple choices. “Would you like to read Curious George first or Goodnight Moon?” Such simple questions give them some, but limited control and keeps you moving forward to bed. • Sing or listen to a lullaby—either can be soothing. Some parents like to add prayers or a quiet review of the day. • Try to create a cozy corner in their room for sleep once your child moves to a bed. Make sure the bed is against a wall, ideally in a corner, and feels like a comforting place. • If one parent is coming home late, do your best not to have it during the good-night routine. For many children, the return of that parent stirs them up. Better that they see you, when they are refreshed, in the morning.

That whole area smells like steamed broccoli,” Maddie said, frowning. “So gross.” I followed Maddie to the edge of the stairs. Before she took a step, she looked back at me with her big brown eyes. “Are you ready for this?” Was she kidding? After the morning I’d already had, I just wanted to go home and play some video games with a steaming cup of hot chocolate! Of course I wasn’t ready for this, and I’m almost positive that I’d never be ready, but I couldn’t bring myself to look away from her humongous brown eyes! Her eyelids fluttered and her good looks got the better of me.

accurately, Elaine Masters had. She could hear both sides of the conversation from her spot next to Grant on the piano seat. His mother was loud, loud and clearly distraught. Delaney should probably be furious with her for causing a shitload of misery and worry! But mostly, at the moment, all Delaney felt was relieved. She’d be getting her money and phone and wallet back tomorrow morning. But even better than that, Donna had referred to her as Elaine. She hadn’t mentioned the name Delaney at all. Was it possible she’d never found the wallet? True, it was stuffed down near the bottom of the bag, underneath the money, but Donna wasn’t a very good thief if she hadn’t even searched through her loot. But then again, Donna Beckett didn’t strike Delaney as very bright. Then again, again, who was she to accuse someone of being not bright? Who was the one hiding in plain sight under an alias? Who was the one running from a sex-video scandal? Who was the one falling in love with a man who didn’t even know

Now back to Mr./Mrs. Jones’s reaction upon me telling them that if they don’t want to become a bit more educated, then they’re probably not the best fit for my business. Almost all prospects have responded in one of two ways: The first response sounds like this: “OK, Marcus, fine. I will read your ebook and watch your video.” And at that point I say, “Well, that’s wonderful! Friday morning, I will call you just to confirm you’ve done those things.” The second response sounds like this: “Forget you! I don’t need you to come out to my house and I don’t need you to sell me a swimming pool. I’ll go somewhere else!” When this happens, your response as a business should be one of gratitude, because you now know they’re clearly not a good fit.

Shakshuka with Feta and Mint I started noticing many restaurants serving shakshuka and said to myself, “Hey, I can make that at home for much cheaper and way better.” Turns out I was right! It’s a North African one-pan tomato and egg dish that is perfect for a lazy Sunday morning. You can’t mess it up. Tip When a recipe calls for canned tomatoes, make sure to only buy Italian San Marzano canned tomatoes. They are grown in the rich volcanic ash from Mount Vesuvius and have the best flavor. To watch a similar video tutorial for this recipe, search “FlavCity shakshuka” on YouTube. Ingredients: - 1 green bell pepper, sliced - ½ cup red onions, diced - 4 cloves garlic, minced - ¼ cup roasted assorted bell peppers - 1 teaspoon smoked paprika - 1 teaspoon cumin - ½ teaspoon cayenne pepper - 20 ounces of canned tomatoes, chopped - 4 eggs - ¼ cup feta cheese, crumbled - Fresh mint, minced - Parsley, minced - Kosher salt and fresh pepper - Olive oil Preheat a twelve-inch skillet over medium heat along with 1 tablespoon of oil. Add the green peppers, onions, ¼ teaspoon salt, and a few cracks of pepper. Cook for 12 minutes or until the veggies are soft, stirring often. Add the garlic and cook for 3 minutes. Add the roasted peppers, paprika, cumin, and cayenne pepper and cook for 1 minute. Add the chopped canned tomatoes with juice along with ½ teaspoon of salt and a few cracks of pepper. Bring to a simmer and cook until the tomatoes have reduced and the sauce is somewhat thick, about 15–20 minutes. Turn the heat to medium-low. Then use a spoon to make indentations for the eggs, and crack the eggs directly into the spots. Season the tops of the eggs with a pinch of salt and pepper, cover with a lid or sheet pan, and cook for 7–10 minutes or until the egg whites are set. Remove from the heat, garnish with the feta cheese and herbs, and enjoy! You can use the keto pita bread recipe to dip into the tomato sauce. You can even char the pita bread in a hot grill pan to make it crusty. Storage and reheating: You can store the shakshuka in the fridge for three days and reheat in the oven.

In Walked Jim September 2013: Entering his first morning staff meeting as FBI director, Jim Comey loped to the head of the table, put down his briefing books, and lowered his six-foot-eight-inch, shirtsleeved self into a huge leather chair. He leaned the chair so far back on its hind legs that he lay practically flat, testing gravity. Then he sat up, stretched like a big cat, pushed the briefing books to the side, and said, as if he were talking to a friend, I don’t want to talk about these today. I’d rather talk about some other things first. He talked about how effective leaders immediately make their expectations clear and proceeded to do just that for us. Said he would expect us to love our jobs, expect us to take care of ourselves … I remember less of what he said than the easygoing way he spoke and the absolute clarity of his day-one priority: building relationships with each member of his senior team. Comey continually reminded the FBI leadership that strong relationships with one another were critical to the institution’s functioning. One day, after we reviewed the briefing books, he said, Okay, now I want to go around the room, and I want you all to say one thing about yourselves that no one else here knows about you. One hard-ass from the criminal division stunned the room to silence when he said, My wife and I, we really love Disney characters, and all our vacation time we spend in the Magic Kingdom. Another guy, formerly a member of the hostage-rescue team, who carefully tended his persona as a dead-eyed meathead—I thought his aesthetic tastes ran the gamut from YouTube videos of snipers in Afghanistan to YouTube videos of Bigfoot sightings—turned out to be an art lover. I really like the old masters, he said, but my favorite is abstract expressionism. This hokey parlor game had the effect Comey intended. It gave people an opportunity to be interesting and funny with colleagues in a way that most had rarely been before. Years later, I remember it like yesterday. That was Jim’s effect on almost everyone he worked with. I observed how he treated people. Tell me your story, he would say, then listen as if there were only the two of you in the whole world. You were, of course, being carefully assessed at the same time that you were being appreciated and accepted. He once told me that people’s responses to that opening helped him gauge their ability to communicate. Over the next few years I would sit in on hundreds of meetings with him. All kinds of individuals and organizations would come to Comey with their issues. No matter how hostile they were when they walked in the door, they would always walk out on a cloud of Comey goodness. Sometimes, after the door had closed, he would look at me and say, That was a mess. Jim has the same judgmental impulse that everyone has. He is complicated, with many different sides, and he is so good at showing his best side—which is better than most people’s—that his bad side, which is not as bad as most people’s, can seem more shocking on the rare moments when it flashes to the surface.

But I’m making you breakfast in the morning, and you’re going to like it. How do you like your eggs?” “Poached. Soft.” “Wonderful,” he deadpans. “I guess I’ll go watch some YouTube videos on how to do that because I have no fucking clue how to poach an egg, but I can promise you, they’re going to be perfect. So, good luck not falling in love with me tomorrow, Kennedy Kay!”