Yay We Did It Quotes

I think we should change the amount of time in each day. Sunday thru Friday should be reduced from 24 hours down to ten minutes, and Saturday would become a 167-hour day. That way, when people ask me what I did all week I could truthfully respond, "I slept all week. But I got a hell of a lot done on Saturday.

It’s too late now. The game’s been won by companies who don’t two shits about community character or decent jobs. Congratufuckinglations, America! We did the deal. Now we’ve got an unlimited supply of cheap commodities and unhealthy food and crumbling downtowns, no sense of place, and a permanent under class. Yay. The underclass isn’t relegated to urban ghettos either. It’s coast to coast and especially in between. Take US 50 west from Kansas City to Sacramento or US 6 from Chicago to California and you’ll see a couple thousand miles of corn, soybeans, and terminally ill towns. It looks like a scene from The Walking Dead. If there’s such a thing as the American Heartland, it has a stake through it.

They say addiction might be linked to bipolar disorder. It’s the chemicals in our brains, they say. I got the wrong chemicals, Ma. Or rather, I don’t get enough of one or the other. They have a pill for it. They have an industry. They make millions. Did you know people get rich off of sadness? I want to meet the millionaire of American sadness. I want to look him in the eye, shake his hand, and say, “It’s been an honor to serve my country.” The thing is, I don’t want my sadness to be othered from me just as I don’t want my happiness to be othered. They’re both mine. I made them, dammit. What if the elation I feel is not another “bipolar episode” but something I fought hard for? Maybe I jump up and down and kiss you too hard on the neck when I learn, upon coming home, that it’s pizza night because sometimes pizza night is more than enough, is my most faithful and feeble beacon. What if I’m running outside because the moon tonight is children’s-book huge and ridiculous over the line of pines, the sight of it a strange sphere of medicine? It’s like when all you’ve been seeing before you is a cliff and then this bright bridge appears out of nowhere, and you run fast across it knowing, sooner or later, there’ll be yet another cliff on the other side. What if my sadness is actually my most brutal teacher? And the lesson is always this: You don’t have to be like the buffaloes. You can stop. There was a war, the man on TV said, but it’s “lowered” now. Yay, I think, swallowing my pills.

Jonah has that strange look on his face. He must have another of Maryrose’s memories. Probably that she once sang a lullaby on a windy day. OR SOMETHING ELSE TOTALLY USELESS. “Is it about canoeing?” I ask, trying to be positive. He scratches his head. “It is! Maryrose was good at canoeing!” Oh! Yay! “Did she ever stop a boat?” “Yes!” he exclaims. Great! “How?” I ask. “With paddles!” he says. Argh. “Thanks for nothing, Maryrose’s memories!” I yell. “We have to stop this canoe!

It’s too late now. The game’s been won by companies who don’t give two shits about community character or decent jobs. Congratufuckinglations, America! We did the deal. Now we’ve got an unlimited supply of cheap commodities and unhealthy food and crumbling downtowns, no sense of place, and a permanent under class. Yay. The underclass isn’t relegated to urban ghettos either. It’s coast to coast and especially in between. Take US 50 west from Kansas City to Sacramento or US 6 from Chicago to California and you’ll see a couple thousand miles of corn, soybeans, and terminally ill towns. It looks like a scene from The Walking Dead. If there’s such a thing as the American Heartland, it has a stake through it.

In late fall, I had a phone sessions with my Oregon therapist. For some reason, we started talking about happiness. “Chris achieved happiness so easily,” I said to him. “And I don’t.” The counselor interrupted me. “Do you know how he did?” I started to answer that I didn’t. But then I realized that Chris had set out to do many things, and he’d achieved them. He’d wanted to be a rodeo competitor, work as a cowboy, join the SEALs. He’d done all of those. What’s more, he excelled at them. Those achievements made him happy, or at least confident enough that he could be happy. As we talked, the counselor noted that I, too, had my own achievements. But I told him--as he already knew--that I wanted to do so many more things. And I always do. Was that a reason not to be happy? The counselor pointed out that I tend to focus on what I haven’t done, rather than what I’ve achieved. My thinking runs; If I do A, then B, then C, then I’ll be happy. But when I achieve A, rather than saying “Yay!” I say, “I haven’t done B and C, so I can’t be happy.” Why focus on what I haven’t done? Why not celebrate those things I have done, even as I look forward to doing other things on my list? Those achievements are accomplishments--I should feel good about them, confident I can do more. And happy. Or at least happier. Another lesson. There are other components to happiness beyond achievement. “Smaller” things, like carving out time for workouts as well as the kids, are actually big things when they are added up. Yet I often feel those things are distractions from what I really want to achieve. Blockers, rather than stepping-stones. Obviously, the wrong way to think about them. On paper, it doesn’t seem like a very profound realization. But put into practice, it means that I--we, all of us--have to keep things in the larger perspective. If you want to achieve a lot, then the reality is that you are always going to have something else you want to do. Keep trying to achieve, but don’t beat yourself up for not getting everything done. The “smaller” things are just as essential to happiness. So: the key to my happiness is appreciating what I have and what I’ve done, and realizing that I’ll always have something else to do. Profound? No, but empowering. I might never have realized it had I not been grieving so deeply. I would have felt silly, really, talking about achieving happiness when Chris was alive. Why wouldn’t I be happy with a great husband and wonderful children? I was happy. But not at the deepest level. I’m not there yet, obviously. But it is possible now. And yet I still wonder: How can I possibly be happy with Chris gone?

Me and Jason against you and Stacy.” Alana handed Alexis a badminton racket and grinned. “Yay,” Alexis said without even a smidgeon of enthusiasm. “Do you want to serve?” Stacy asked Alexis when Jason and Alana moved to the other side of the net. “Serve you what? There’s no staff here to take care of your every whim, princess,” Alexis said lowly so the others wouldn’t hear. Stacy recoiled at the remark, then her temper flared. “You know what I was asking,” she replied coolly. “You can serve. Here’s the birdie,” Alexis replied and handed it to her on her middle finger. “Shuttlecock,” Stacy corrected. “Butthole…cock.” Alexis shrugged when Stacy glared at her. “That’s what we used to call them.” “Uh-huh,” Stacy said as she prepared to serve. The birdie sailed over the net,and volley began. This went on for a few minutes, then Alexis heard a hard thwack behind her, and the birdie stung her on the back of the thigh. She turned and looked at Stacy with fire in her eyes. “My bad,” Stacy said nonchalantly.Alexis picked up the birdie and hit it toward Jason. He served again. Stacy returned and nailed Alexis in the back of the head. “I’m so sorry,” Stacy said with an acerbic smile. “I’m having a hard time getting my shuttlecock up for you.” ...An intense volley began, and Alana said, “Uh, hey, y’all are supposed to be hitting it to us.” Jason watched in fascination. “I think they’re trying to kill the birdie.” Alexis finally missed and snatched it off the ground. “We were just warming up.” “Yeah, I’m good and hot now,” Stacy added between clenched teeth...“My serve,” Alexis said as she whirled around, then lowered her voice as she passed Stacy. “You’re about to find out whywe call them butthole cocks.” Stacy held her racket out like a sword. “How about I just waffle your ass now?” Alexis struck a fencing pose, or at least she thought she did. “On guard, biatch.”...Alana rushed under the net and stepped between the two staring daggers at each other. “Hey, we want to be able to use these rackets again. Maybe we should take a break since y’all kind of murdered the birdie.” Alana laughed. “It’s missing two plastic feathers...

The parent focused on grades, not on what the child was learning or found interesting in the class. A better dialogue might go something like this: PARENT: How was school today? CHILD: Fine. PARENT: What did you enjoy most? CHILD: Spanish. PARENT: Great! How come? CHILD: It’s my favorite class! PARENT: How come? CHILD: I always get a really good score on tests and homework is never hard and I’m never lost. I raise my hand all the time and when she does call on me, especially when other people aren’t getting it, I feel “Yay! I’ve got this, let’s go!” PARENT: How can you tell you’re good at it? CHILD: Well, when my teacher is explaining something, I can guess what she’s about to say because I already know exactly how it works. I know what’s coming next. I can explain it to my friend. … etc. Keep asking why and how. It’s one thing for a child to know she likes a subject, but as this dialogue demonstrates, what we really want is for a child to be able to home in on how she knows what she knows.

Morning, Vex. Forget something?” She almost asked him what until she saw the way his gaze smoldered and caressed her almost naked body. Oops. Had she jumped out of bed in only her panties? Nudity wasn’t something that Meena usually noted or cared about. Mother, on the other hand, was always yelling at her to put clothes on. She and Leo had a lot in common. “You should get dressed.” “Why? I’m perfectly comfortable.” So comfortable she brought her shoulders back and made sure to give her boobs a little jiggle. He noticed. He stared. Oh my. Was it getting hot in here? Funny how the heat in her body, though, didn’t stop her nipples from hardening as if struck by a cold breeze. Except, in this case, it was more of an ardent perusal. Did Leo imagine his mouth latched onto a sensitive peak just like she was? “While I am sure you are comfortable, if we’re to go out, then in order to avoid a possible arrest for indecent exposure, you might want to cover your assets.” “We’re going out? Together?” He nodded. “Where?” “It’s a surprise.” She clapped her hands and squealed, “Yay,” only to frown a second later. Leo was acting awfully strange. “Wait a second, this isn’t one of those things where you blindfold me and tell me you’ve got a great surprise, only to dump me on a twelve-hour train to Kansas, is it? Or a plane to Newfoundland, Canada?” His lips twitched. “No. I promise we have a destination, and I am going with you.” “And will I be back here tonight?” “Perhaps. Unless you choose to sleep elsewhere.” Those enigmatic words weren’t his last. “Be downstairs and ready in twenty minutes, Vex. I really want you to come.” Did he purr that last word? Was that even possible? Could he tease her any harder? Please. “How should I dress? Fancy, casual, slutty, or prim and proper?” She eyed him in his khaki shorts and collared short-sleeved shirt. Casual with a hint of elegance. He looked ready for a day at a gentleman’s golf club. And she wanted to be his corrupting caddy, who ruined his shot and dragged him in the woods to show him her version of a tee off. “Your clothes won’t matter. You won’t wear them for long.” Good thing she was close to a wall. Her knees weakened to the point that she almost buckled to the floor. Leaning against it, she wondered if he purposely teased her. Did her serious Pookie even realize how his words could be taken? He approached her until he stood right in front of her. Close enough she could have reached out and hugged him. She didn’t, but only because he drew her close. His essence surrounded her. His hands splayed over the flesh of her lower back, branding her. She leaned into him, totally relying on him to hold her up on wobbly legs. “What about breakfast?” she asked. “I’ve got pastries and coffee in my truck. Lots of yummy treats with lickable icing.” Staring at his mouth, she knew of only one treat she wanted to lick. Alas, she didn’t get a chance. With a slap on her ass, he walked off toward the condo door. Leo. Slapped. My. Ass. She gaped at his retreating broad back. “Don’t make me wait. I’d hate to start without you.” With a wink— yes, a real freaking wink— Leo shut the door behind him. He was waiting for her. Why the hell was she standing there? She sprinted for the shower.

In this instance, she’d not heard him count. He’d not hit a wall, unless the brick-headed stubbornness of Dmitri’s face counted. Thwack! “Yay.” Yes, that was her cheering for her Pookie aloud. Since it seemed he hadn’t heard, she said it louder, yodeled it as a matter of fact. “You get him, Pookie. Show him who’s the biggest, baddest pussy around.” Leo turned his head at that, narrowing his blue gaze on her. Totally annoyed. Totally adrenalized. Totally hot. “Vex!” How sexy her nickname sounded when he growled it. She could tell he totally dug the encouragement. She waggled her fingers at him and meant to say, “You’re welcome,” but instead shouted, “Behind you!” During that moment of inattention— which really Leo should have known better than to indulge in— Dmitri threw a mighty hook. Had she mentioned just how sigh-worthy big her Pookie was? The perfectly aimed blow hit Leo in the jaw, and the force snapped his head to the side. But it certainly didn’t fell him. Not even close. On the contrary, the punch brought the predator in him alive. As he rotated his jaw, Leo’s gaze flicked her way, his eyes lit with a wildness, his lip quirked, almost in amusement, and then he acted. His fist retaliated then his elbow, snapping Dmitri in the nose. Any other man, even shifter, might have quickly succumbed, but the Russian Siberian tiger was more than a match for the hybrid lion/ tiger. Put them in a ring and they’d have brought in a fortune. They certainly put on a good show. Blood trailed from Dmitri’s lip from where Leo’s fist struck him. However, that didn’t stop the Russian from giving as good as he got. Size-wise, Leo held a slight edge, but what Dmitri lacked in girth, he made up for in skill. Even if Meena wasn’t interested in marrying him, it didn’t mean she couldn’t admire the grace of Dmitri’s movement and his uncanny intuition when it came to dodging blows. Leo wasn’t too shabby either. While he’d obviously not grown up on the mean streets of Russia, he knew how to throw a punch, wrestle a man, and look totally hot in defense of his woman. Sigh. A man coming to her rescue. Just like one of those romance novels Teena likes to read. Luna sidled up alongside her. “What did you do this time?” Why did everyone assume it was her fault? “I didn’t do anything.” Luna snorted. “Sure you didn’t. And it also wasn’t you who put Kool-Aid in Arik’s mom’s shampoo bottle and turned her hair pink at the family picnic a few years ago.” “I thought the short spikes she sported after she got it shaved looked awesome.” “Never said the outcome wasn’t worth it. Just like I’m totally intrigued about what’s happening here. That is Leo laying a smackdown on that Russian diplomat, right? Since I highly doubt they’re sparring over who makes the better vodka or who deserved the gold medal in hockey at the last winter Olympics, then that leaves only one other possibility.” Luna fixed her with a gaze. “This is your fault.” Meena’s shoulders hunched. “Okay, so maybe I’m a teensy tiny bit responsible. Like maybe I made sure my ex-fiancé and current fiancé got to meet.” “Duh. I already knew about that part. What I’m talking about is, how the hell did you get Leo to lose his shit? I mean when he gets his serious on, you couldn’t melt an ice cube in his mouth. Leo never loses control because to lose control is to lose one’s way, or some such bullshit. He’s always spouting these funny little sayings in the hopes of curbing our wild tendencies.” Pookie had the cutest personality. “What can I say?” Meena shrugged. “I guess he got jealous. Totally normal, given we’re soul mates.

I believe his exact words were, ‘Go sort this out, and don’t come back until you’re certain you can keep your mind on what matters.’” He smiled at Kerry, then. That big, broad grin that crinkled the deeply tanned skin at the corners of his eyes, the one that made all that bright blue twinkle and added a shadow to that hint of a cleft in his chin. “That sounds more like Big Jack,” she said. He’d just been making it clear he wanted Cooper’s head back in the game. She wondered if Big Jack was shocked when his oldest son had taken him up on the offer. Probably, she thought, a smile hovering again as she imagined the look on his broad, still handsome, craggy face. “He also said, ‘And, if what matters happens to be about yay high”--Cooper lifted the palm of his hand level with the top of Kerry’s head--“‘with firecracker hair and a temperament to match, well, you’d best be bringing her back along with you.’” “He did not say that,” Kerry declared, even as she knew damn well he probably had. She could hear him, see his own crinkled-at-the-corners, twinkle-eyed gaze. Now it was Cooper’s turn to shrug. “He’ll be deeply disappointed when I come back empty-handed.” He lifted his palms. “But what’s a bloke to do?” She swatted his shoulder, only it might have been a little more like a punch. “Don’t you dare try to emotionally blackmail me or make me feel bad about this. I didn’t ask you to fly halfway around the globe and could have saved you the trouble if you’d given me so much as a hint what you were thinking. Besides, you don’t want me--or anyone else--on the station who doesn’t want to be there. Who doesn’t feel the same as you.” His smile stayed, but the look in his eyes was nothing short of the fierce gaze of a man who pushed himself to the limits of his ability every single day and wasn’t the least bit afraid of a challenge. “My mistake, then.” Kerry tried to hold his gaze but ended up ducking her chin. “You never so much as hinted--” “Starfish--” Her head shot up, but the automatic rejection of the nickname died on her lips at the look on his face, in his eyes. “Nothing ever happened.” Only because you didn’t let it happen, her little voice supplied. She tried desperately to ignore that part. “As you said, you weren’t staying. We all knew that.

Dear Miss Know-It-All, I worked really hard to make the eighth-grade cheerleading team this year, but the other cheerleaders treat me like I don’t belong. I never get to do much cheering or dancing like they do. The only time the team captain needs me is when we do the human pyramid, and she always puts me at the bottom! I have to hold the most people on my back, which is totally excruciating, and if I lose my balance, the whole pyramid collapses and everyone bullies me about it! I’m tired of those girls walking all over me. Literally! I don’t know what I did to deserve this kind of treatment, but it’s pretty obvious they all hate my guts. ! I’m majorly frustrated! I don’t know if I should quit the team, confront my teammates, or just keep quiet so I don’t make things worse. I really don’t want to give up my dream of making varsity! What would you do?? —Cheerless Cheerleader * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Dear Cheerless Cheerleader, Hon . . . I think you’re kidding yourself if you think you made the cheerleading team based on your awesome moves. My reliable source on the team told me your tryout routine was HOR-REN-DOUS. She said she couldn’t tell if you were trying to dance or going into convulsions! Your backflips were BACKFLOPS, your cartwheels were FLAT TIRES, and your dismount was totally DISGUSTING! Get the picture? You were chosen for one reason, and one reason alone—you look like a sturdy ogre who can carry a lot of weight! It’s been a long tradition for cheerleading captains to hand-pick strong, ugly girls for the bottom of the pyramid. Didn’t you know that?? Quit taking everything so personally! Just accept that the bottom is where you belong, sweetie! You should hold your green, Shrek-looking head high that someone actually wants you for something. Bet that doesn’t happen often! Yay you! Sincerely, Miss Know-It-All P.S. My source wants you to stop dancing. She says you’re giving the squad NIGHT TERRORS!

We continued our assault on the immobilized magma cube. Shortly after, Ivy and Clara joined the attack. They had no weapons, but they did have water bottles, which they launched directly into the boss’s open mouth. Splash! Splash! Splash! The gigantic magma cube started coughing from the water, and as Ivy and Clara continued throwing, the cough became more of a gag. Soon, the enemy boss started choking violently. It choked so hard that it eventually fell over and knocked out. “Whoa! We did it!” I cheered. “Clara and Ivy finished it off!” “Woohoo!” yelled Devlin. “Go, medics!” “Yeah!” the rogues gave each other high fives. “Yay!” cheered Clara as she jumped up and down. “How did you know that the water bottles would work against the boss?” I asked

be fast enough to blow the school away. And if the school blows away, there will be no school! Yay! But right now I had other things to worry about. The basket was swaying back and forth. I was afraid the whole thing might flip over. “Are we going to die?” I shouted. “Not on my watch,” Miss Newman shouted back. What did watches have to do with anything? She wasn’t even wearing a watch. Miss Newman grabbed some ropes on the side of the basket and pulled on them. I guess it was for steering or something. The basket stopped swaying. “This is a dangerous situation,” she hollered over the sound of the wind and sand blowing in our faces. “I need to report the weather to the people!

Dear Brace Face, Did I get your name right? Or was it Zipper Mouth? Maybe it was STUMP GRINDER! Sorry, sweetie. I’m so forgetful sometimes! Anyway, having braces isn’t all that bad. Let’s look at the pros and cons, shall we? PROS: #1: You can get a job at the Olive Garden restaurant grating cheese with your teeth! #2: Your mouth also multitasks as a paper shredder and chain saw! #3: With all the food you’re going to have stuck in your braces, you’ll have yourself a portable, FREE all-you-can-eat buffet! CONS: #1: People will follow you around to get a better cell phone signal. #2: A boyfriend with braces could become the kiss of death, literally. If your braces lock up during a smooch, you’ll both have to go to the orthodontist together to get it surgically terminated! #3: On a very clear day, you can pick up interstellar signals from ALIENS on Mars! Wait a second!! ALL of those sound like CONS, don’t they? Oh well! Too bad for you! Thank goodness I’ve ALWAYS had perfectly straight pearly whites! YAY ME !! —Miss Know-It-All

If we can secure victory in this Team Shokugeki and unseat the current Council of Ten... then I shall humbly accept the First Seat as my due! This battle is nothing less than the battle to restore the rightful queen to her throne, and I shall see us victorious! The rest of you are... yes. You shall be my loyal entourage, who dutifully serve and revere their queen! Be honored!" "Whoa. Talk about force of personality." "Yay! It's like she's finally back to her old self!" "Heh. A wonderful sight, if I do say so myself. The royal dignity of a queen at all times. That has always suited her best, I think." "Isn't it nice she's feeling better now, Soma? Um... Soma?" "Hold it right there, Nakiri! Where do you get off deciding that?! The First Seat is mine! You hear me?!" "Hold your tongue and listen to your betters, commoner!" "Hey! Don't you underestimate the strength of family cooking, Nakiri! What happened to all that modest and sweet "friends to the bottom of your heart" stuff, huh?!" "That was that. This is an entirely different matter! You just need to listen when the Divine Tongue tells you what's what!" "Daaad! Get over here and tell her!" "N-no fair! Getting Chef Saiba involved is against the rules!" "That was great, Erina. No, really. You did an awesome job... ... standing up to that stubborn blockhead of a father of yours." I think somewhere, somehow a certain father and son may have rubbed off on me a little.

Hannah makes a frustrated noise. “You’re not being fair again. Just because you suddenly decide you’re ready for a relationship and that we should be together doesn’t mean that I’m going to squeal like a sorority girl and say, wheee, yay! You clearly had time to think about it, and absorb it, but you didn’t give me any time at all. You just barged in and made accusations and ran out.” I experience a pang of guilt. She has a point. I did come over tonight fully knowing what I wanted from her.