Woo Hoo Quotes

Cabel smiles and hangs up. "Guess what." What," Janie says. We can go out on our first date." Woo hoo!" And guess what else- You're buying." Me? Why?" Because you lost the bet." Janie thinks for a moment. Punches Cabel in the arm. "You did not fail five quizzes or tests!" I did. I have proof.

Who cares even if I didn't?!" Conor shouted back. "They're just stupid berries. Woo-hoo, so scary. Oh, please, please, save me from the berries!" The monster looked at him quizzically. How strange, it said. The words you say tell me you are scared of the berries, but your actions seems to suggest otherwise.

TEAM FOSTER-KEEFE: [WOO-HOO, TEAM FOSTER-KEEFE IS OFFICIALLY A THING!]

ENTER THIS DESERTED HOUSE But please walk softly as you do. Frogs dwell here and crickets too. Ain't no ceiling, only blue Jays dwell here and sunbeams too. Floors are flowers - take a few. Ferns grow here and daisies too. Whoosh, swoosh - too-whit, too-woo, Bats dwell here and hoot owls too. Ha-ha-ha,hee-hee,hoo-hoooo, Gnomes dwell here and goblins too. And my child, I thought you knew I dwell here...and so do you.

Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, martini in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and screaming, ‘WOO HOO, what a ride!’” Mimi’s

Hey Wanda! Hey Ian!" Jamie was all grins, his messy hair bouncing as he moved..."Guess what? Jared was saying at lunch that he didn't think it was fair for you to have to move out of the room you were used to. He said we weren't being good hosts. He said you should move back in with me! Isn't that great? I asked him if I could tell you right away, and he said that was a good idea. He said you would be in here." "I'll bet he did," Ian murmured. "So, what do you think, Wanda? We get to be roomies again!" "But Jamie, where will Jared stay?" "Wait - let me guess," Ian interrupted. "I bet he said the room was big enough for three. Am I right?" "Yeah. How did you know?" "Lucky guess" ... "Will you come back?" Jamie begged against my shoulder..."If that's what you want, Jamie. Okay." "Woo hoo!" Jamie crowed in my ear. "Cool! I'm gonna go tell Jared! I'll get you some food, too, okay?...You want something, Ian?" "Sure, kid. I want you to tell Jared he's shameless.

I did it,” the guy finally said. “I did it! I killed the Spider! Woo-hoo!” Okay, I thought the woo-hoo at the end was a little much, but I let the giant enjoy his moment of victory. It was going to be the last thing he ever enjoyed.

I stride to the ring where Cole and River are still hammering at each other. I remove my shirt and drop it to the floor. "Woo-hoo," Ali calls. "Take it all off.

Abby, listen to me. I can hear thoughts–” – Sundown “Little late now, bucko. I noticed. Thanks for volunteering that. Let me give you a Hero Award for your first confession. Big flippin’ hairy doo dah…Woo. Hoo.” – Abigail

They’re just stupid berries. Woo-hoo, so scary. Oh, please, please, save me from the berries!

Woo-hoo, everyone elses lives sucked ass too. It didn't really make Arias problems any easier.

Woo-hoo!

[WOO-HOO, TEAM FOSTER-KEEFE IS OFFICIALLY A THING!]

Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out, screaming, “WOO HOO What a Ride!

Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, champagne in one hand, strawberries in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and screaming…woo hoo, what a ride!

They're just stupid berries. Woo-hoo, so scary. Oh, please, please, save me from the berries!" The monster looked at him quizzically. "How strange", it said. "The words you say tell me you are scared of the berries, but your actions seem to suggest otherwise. "You're as old as the land and you've never heard of sarcasm?" Conor asked.

Woo-hoo! Meenha. I seen you in pahper today. You beeg celebrity.

Woo-hoo! This is gon' be a Turkey shoot!

Maybe you read my article in WooHoo?" "I never read press. You start believing it, you see...

Woo-hoo!” Ro said as Sophie headed for the door. “Bring on the skin melting! Things are finally getting interesting here in Sparkle Town!

How people treat you is their karma; how you react is yours.” – Wayne Dyer

Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive, well-preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, wine in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming, ‘Woo-hoo! What a ride.

If you want to reach a state of bliss, then go beyond your ego and the internal dialogue. Make a decision to relinquish the need to control, the need to be approved, and the need to judge. Those are the three things the ego is doing all the time. It’s very important to be aware of them every time they come up.” – Deepak Chopra

Why does it bother me to tell people I have health problems? Doesn’t everybody at some point? I suppose that’s the crux right there. For most people, the difference is in the “some point” part. They have a problem. They go to the doctor. Doctor fixes it. Life moves on. It was a small, annoying inconvenience. For me, and likely for you since you’re reading this, your problem is not so temporary. You’ve got it for life, or until science finds a cure, which for some diseases is as likely as winning the lottery when you haven’t even bought a ticket. So we make people nervous. Nobody wants to have a condition that affects their social outings, work choices, family life, and just general day-to-day stuff. Nobody picks that for what they want to be when they grow up. “Oh teacher!” The kindergartener excitedly raises his hand. “When I grow up, I want to have a chronic illness and have people say how strong and courageous I am for enduring it even though I don’t have any choice in the matter! Woo-hoo.” Instead,

One day Spinner, the woman who runs PR tells me, “I like that idea, but I’m not sure that it’s one-plus-one-equals-three enough.” What does any of this nutty horseshit actually mean? I have no idea. I’m just amazed that hundreds of people can gobble up this malarkey and repeat it, with straight faces. I’m equally amazed by the high regard in which HubSpot people hold themselves. They use the word awesome incessantly, usually to describe themselves or each other. That’s awesome! You’re awesome! No, you’re awesome for saying that I’m awesome! They pepper their communication with exclamation points, often in clusters, like this!!! They are constantly sending around emails praising someone who is totally crushing it and doing something awesome and being a total team player!!! These emails are cc’d to everyone in the department. The protocol seems to be for every recipient to issue his or her own reply-to-all email joining in on the cheer, writing things like “You go, girl!!” and “Go, HubSpot, go!!!!” and “Ashley for president!!!” Every day my inbox fills up with these little orgasmic spasms of praise. At first I ignore them, but then I feel like a grump and decide I should join in the fun. I start writing things like, “Jan is the best!!! Her can-do attitude and big smile cheer me up every morning!!!!!!!” (Jan is the grumpy woman who runs the blog; she scowls a lot.) Sometimes I just write something with lots of exclamation points, like, “Woo-hoo!!!!!!! Congratulations!!!!!!! You totally rock!!!!!!!!!!!!” Eventually someone suspects that I am taking the piss, and I am told to cut that shit out.

THE GREAT GULON INCIDENT: [JUST GONNA LEAVE THIS ONE WITH: REDACTED] [NOT THAT I HAD ANYTHING TO DO WITH THIS!] THE VACKER CONNECTION: [UH, FITZY’S MY BEST FRIEND—NOT A “CONNECTION.” AND ALDEN AND DELLA ARE WAY NICER TO ME THAN MY OWN PARENTS ARE. BIANA’S SUPER AWESOME TOO. ALVAR… NOT SO MUCH. I PROBABLY SHOULD’VE SEEN THAT ONE COMING. BUT WHATEVER, MY POINT IS: I DIDN’T TRY TO MAKE FRIENDS WITH THE VACKERS—NO MATTER WHAT WEIRD STUFF WAS IN ONE OF MY ERASED MEMORIES. SO DON’T GO THINKING THERE’S MORE TO IT THAN THAT.] [AND HOW DO YOU GUYS EVEN KNOW ABOUT THAT MEMORY? THAT KINDA MAKES ME WANT TO RIP THIS REGISTRY PENDANT OFF MY NECK AND THROW IT FAR, FAR AWAY!] INSTANT RIVALRY: [YOU THINK BANGS BOY AND ME ARE “RIVALS”? HATE TO BREAK IT TO YOU, BUT NOPE! I MEAN, YEAH, HE’S SUPER ANNOYING WITH ALL THE “LOOK AT ME, I’M A MOODY SHADE” NONSENSE—AND HIS HAIR IS TOTALLY RIDICULOUS. BUT THERE’S NO RIVALRY. JUST DON’T EXPECT US TO BE BESTIES, AND WE’LL BE GOOD.] UNWITTING ERRAND BOY: [OKAY, THAT SUBHEADING MAKES ME WANT TO PUNCH WHOEVER WROTE IT IN THE MOUTH. BUT… I GUESS IT’S ALSO KIND OF TRUE. MY MOM DID HAVE ME DO STUFF AND THEN ERASE MY MEMORIES SO I WOULDN’T KNOW ABOUT IT. MOM OF THE YEAR, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. TRY NOT TO BE JEALOUS.] [AND I’M WORKING ON GETTING THOSE MEMORIES BACK, BY THE WAY. I’VE BEEN FILLING JOURNALS WITH DRAWINGS AND EVERYTHING. IT’S JUST TAKING A WHILE BECAUSE I’VE BEEN A LITTLE BUSY ALMOST DYING AND STUFF.] TEAM FOSTER-KEEFE: [WOO-HOO, TEAM FOSTER-KEEFE IS OFFICIALLY A THING!] [BUT THE REST OF THE STUFF IN THIS SECTION IS SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO GETTING REDACTED. SERIOUSLY—BOUNDARIES, PEOPLE! FOSTER’S AMAZING—AND OBVIOUSLY WORKING WITH ME MAKES HER EVEN MORE AMAZING. BUT YOU GUYS NEED TO STOP WITH ALL OF YOUR WEIRDO SPECULATING.] ONE PART OF A TRIANGLE: [OKAY, THAT’S IT. I’M DEEEEEEEEEEFINITELY DITCHING THIS PENDANT THING. WHY IS THE COUNCIL PAYING ATTENTION TO THIS STUFF???????????] [ACTUALLY, YOU KNOW WHAT? IT’S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS, BUT I’M GOING TO ADD ONE THING: FOSTER GETS TO DO WHATEVER SHE WANTS, OKAY? SHE CAN LIKE WHOEVER SHE WANTS. OR BE CONFUSED ABOUT WHAT SHE’S FEELING. SHE CAN EVEN BE OBLIVIOUS—IT’S HER LIFE. HER CHOICE. AND EVERYONE NEEDS TO STAY OUT OF IT.] [EVEN ME.] [ESPECIALLY ME. I WOULD NEVER WANT TO…] [NEVER MIND. MY POINT IS, LET THE POOR GIRL FIGURE THIS OUT ON HER OWN. AND SERIOUSLY, STAY OUT OF OUR LIVES!!!!]

Unique is a color only you can define

These days, Cal would no more go to a club than he would a rodeo. The deafening music, the blinding strobes, the drunk rowdy crowd waving their arms and woo-hooing like it was enjoyable being squeezed into a dance floor like Pringles and paying sixteen dollars for a cocktail. And a rap star couldn’t relax in public. You had to be cool every damn minute in case somebody took a video of you picking your nose that would be on YouTube until the end of time; standing there talking shit with a bitter-ass cigar in your mouth and holding a bottle of Gran Patrón by the neck like it wasn’t no thang or laughing with the fellas like only an insider would get the joke, turning smooth for the ladies, every line said a thousand times before. “I’ve

She was going out today, woo hoo, getting out of this drab place and apartment-hunting no less, and if she had to climb stairs or stumble off some curb it was her choice as opposed to having some drunk run her down.

And finally I could make it down the bunny hill without falling. Or knocking over any little kids. Woo-hoo!

A large fish jumped across the river and they were silent; he was huge. “King,” Rick finally said. “I haven’t seen one that size in a long time.” “He must be lost,” Jack said, casting in that direction. Rick took a few paces downstream, changed out his fly and threw a line. They played with him a while, then Rick hooked him and yelled, “Woo-hoo!” “Lead him, let him take out line, tire him out before you—” Rick laughed. “I know how to catch a fish.” “Don’t screw around, get too anxious and lose him,” Jack said. “You milking this cow?” Ricky asked him. For the better part of an hour Rick played him, letting out line, letting him run, pulling him back, walking up and down in the shallow part of the river when the fish ran, and all the while he had Jack in his ear. “That son of a bitch is big. Let out more line. Don’t spoil him, he’s a fighter. He’s getting too far from your control, reel him back.” And on and on and on. Rick finally brought him in, a great big Chinook, over thirty pounds. And that was more than enough fishing; Rick’s ears were ringing from Jack’s mother-henning. When they got back to the bar, Preacher whistled in admiration and loaded the fish on the scale. “Thirty-seven point four. You catch him all by yourself, Rick?” Rick made a face at Jack. “Not exactly.” *

No time. Art Teacher was behind him. Myron slid to the side and threw a roundhouse right. Art Teacher ducked it, but Myron was ready. He stopped mid-punch and looped his arm around the man’s neck. Myron had him in a headlock. But now, with a grotesque rebel yell, Ascot leapt toward Myron. Tightening his grip on the neck, Myron aimed a mule kick. Ascot let it land on his chest. He made his body soft and rolled with the blow, holding on to Myron’s leg. Myron lost his balance. Art Teacher managed to free himself then. He threw a knife hand, aiming for Myron’s throat. Myron tucked so that the blow hit his chin. It rattled his teeth. Ascot held on to Myron’s leg. Myron tried to kick him off. Art Teacher was laughing now. The front door burst open again. Myron prayed it was Win. It wasn’t. Dominick Rochester arrived. He was out of breath. Myron wanted to call out a warning to Mrs. Seiden, but that was when a pain unlike any other he had felt ripped through him. Myron let loose a blood-curdling howl. He looked down at his leg. Ascot had his head lowered. He was biting Myron’s leg. Myron screamed again, the sound mixing in with the laughter and cheers coming from Art Teacher. “Go, Jeb! Woo-hoo!” Myron kept kicking, but Ascot dug in deeper, holding on, growling like a terrier. The pain was excruciating, all-encompassing. Panic filled Myron. He stamped down with his free leg. Ascot held on with his teeth. Myron kicked harder, finally landing a kick on top of the man’s head. He pushed hard. His flesh ripped off as he finally pried himself free. Ascot sat up and spit something out of his mouth. Myron realized with horror that it was a meaty chunk of leg. Then they were on him. All three. Piled on. Myron ducked his head and started swinging. He connected with somebody’s chin. There was a grunt and a curse. But someone else hit him in the stomach. He felt the teeth on his leg again, the same spot, opening up the wound. Win. Where the hell was Win . . . ?

Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, Chardonnay in one hand – chocolate in the other – body thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and screaming, “WOO HOO, What a Ride!

Liz. Woo-hoo. Got a seat right here.” I turn toward the voice and there’s CeCe smiling at me.

Woo-hoo," Gibsie hooted from the back of the room.

Well, Trey doesn’t live in those rooms.” Deborah said tartly. “I have it on good authority he lives with the Irish in some roach-infested place near the mill.” “Woo hoo,” Judith said. “Trey, is it? This job of yours is going to be interesting.

Erin clapped her hands. “Great work, everyone! Time to shut it down and go shopping!” “Woo-hoo!” Lucy cheered. When I didn’t, she raised one of my arms for me. “Woo-hoo!” “Um . . . can Nicole come with us?” I asked. Lucy promptly dropped my arm. “Boo-hoo.” Erin made a pained expression. “Does she have to?” I frowned. “She doesn’t have to, but it would be nice for her to make more friends.” “So let her decide that,” said Sophia from where she was packing her bag. “She hasn’t tried to get to know any of us. Why should we make the extra effort?” “That’s not tr—nice,” I said. She was kind of right. Nicole didn’t seem to spend time with anyone but me. “Fine,” I said, texting Nicole back. As I typed, I said the message aloud. “Sorry, can’t. Have plans.” “Thanks,” said Lucy. “Maybe we can all hang out some other time, but I just want it to be our group today. And Nicole’s . . . you know.” She didn’t have to say it, but I could fill in the blanks. Nicole’s an outsider. “Sure,” I said. Lucy got to her feet. “For now, we have places to be and things to buy!” “Shoppinggg!” Erin sang, hoisting her backpack onto her shoulder. “Let’s go!” She pulled me to a standing position. “Woo-hoo!” Lucy cheered again. “Have fun!” Leila told us. “How can we not?” I said, forcing a lighthearted laugh. Since I was excited about shopping and I’d argued with my friends enough for one day, I decided to let it go.

Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well presented body; but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, wine in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming “Woo hoo, what a ride!

Looks like I have a real-life girlfriend now. It only took me dying to get one. Woo-hoo!

Instead, Cyrus slalomed through them, trying to lose our pursuers, resulting in some terrifyingly close calls. We barely avoided being flattened by one outbound freighter and nearly got pureed by the rear propellers of another. “Woo-hoo!” Alexander yelled.

Spidroth turned and saw that the bears were nearly upon them. Without hesitating, she jumped into the back of the minecart. Spidroth, Alex, Dave and Porkins all clung to the sides of the cart for dear life as it zoomed down the mountain at high speed. “Woo-hoo! Alex screamed happily. “This is fun!” “Chaps… I don’t feel so good…” groaned Porkins. “BLUUUUURGGGGHHHH!!!!!!!” Suddenly Porkins vomited, and it flew backward, covering Dave and Spidroth, who were both sat behind him. “Porkins, no!” Dave screamed. “Arrgh, stop!” yelled Spidroth. “Stop, you oaf!” “BLLLLLLUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Porkins vomited again, and once more, Dave and Spidroth got covered. “How much mushroom stew did you eat?!” Dave groaned. “I’m sorry, chaps, I’m so sorry…” said Porkins. “I think that’s all of it now, I — BLUUUUUURRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” “PORKINS!” Spidroth screamed. “I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!

Woo-hoo!” I said. “That’s amazing!” But I noticed that my dad wasn’t nearly as excited as I was. “Hey Dad, isn’t this good news?” I said. “Ask him when the next council meeting is,” said Pooseidon. “When’s the next meeting?” I asked Zeus. “Um, in 10,000 years,

Look, Abdul. Star number one thousand! Woo-hoo! Stale orb! - Dan

Hellooo.” The ferry captain shot a thumb at her Jeep. “Gonna get it off ?” “Oh.” She laughed. “Sorry.” Releasing Nicole, she ran back onto the ferry and slid behind the wheel. By the time she revved the engine, Nicole was in the passenger’s seat, sliding a hand over the timeworn dashboard. “I am paying you for this.” Charlotte shot her a startled look and inched forward. “For this car? You are not.” “You wouldn’t have bought it if it weren’t for my book, and you won’t take money for that.” “Because it’s your book. I’m just along for the ride.” She laughed at her own words. “Can you believe, this is the first car I’ve ever owned?” She eased it onto the dock. “Is it real or what?” “Totally real,” Nicole said, though momentarily wary. “Safe on the highway?” “It got me here.” Charlotte waved at the captain. “Thank you!” Still crawling along, she drove carefully off the pier. When she was on firm ground, she stopped, angled sideways in the seat, and addressed the first of the ghosts. “I’m sorry about your dad, Nicki. I wanted to be there. I just couldn’t.” Seeming suddenly older, Nicole smiled sadly. “You were probably better off. There were people all over the place. I didn’t have time to think.” “A heart attack?” “Massive.” “No history of heart problems?” “None.” “That’s scary. How’s Angie?” Nicole’s mother. Charlotte had phoned her, too, and though Angie had said all the right words—Yes, a tragedy, he loved you, too, you’re a darling to call—she had sounded distracted. “Bad,” Nicole confirmed. “They were so in love. And he loved Quinnipeague. His parents bought the house when he was little. He actually proposed to Mom here. They always said that if I’d been a boy, they’d have named me Quinn. She can’t bear to come now. That’s why she’s selling. She can’t even come to pack up. This place was so him.” “Woo-hoo,” came a holler that instantly lifted the mood. “Look who’s here!” A stocky woman, whose apron covered a T-shirt and shorts, was trotting down the stairs from the lower deck of the Chowder House. Dorey Jewett had taken over from her father midway through Charlotte’s summers here and had brought the place up to par with the best of city restaurants. She had the gleaming skin of one who worked over steam, but the creases by her eyes, as much from smiling as from squinting over the harbor, suggested she was nearing sixty. “Missy here

A man has to learn that he cannot command things, but that he can command himself; that he cannot coerce the wills of others, but that he can mold and master his own will: and things serve him who serves Truth; people seek guidance of him who is master of himself. - James Allen