Quotes About Bathroom

There are four categories of questions Emmily asks: 1. Can I please go to the bathroom? 2. Where is the bathroom? 3. Is it okay if I raise my hand and ask a question? 4. I don't understand anything you've said in the last thirty minutes. Could you explain it again? Also the last six weeks.

While Jeff had been packing for this trip to his grandparents, his mother had tucked a flashlight and extra batteries into his suitcase over his protests. "So if you have to get up in the night you can find the bathroom down the hall," she had said. "Mom, that's crazy!"' "No, it isn't. I know from experience. There are lots of little tables and what-nots in that hall, and you could break a toe.

I hate people who sneak into first class to use the bathroom. I'm sitting there, in 4F, sipping Cristal and admiring my new line of jewelry for QVC, and suddenly, busting through the curtain and rushing toward the bathroom is some doughy soccer mom holding her crotch and yelling, "Emergency, emergency!" No, it's not!!! Opening the main hatch and pushing you out at thirty thousand feet for disturbing me is an emergency.

In my student bathroom, I had given birth to both life and death.

I was depressed as a child. I found it hard to make friends. My favourite thing was locking myself in the bathroom and practising comedy routines.

Americans are always mortified when I tell them this, but in England, it's a tradition to put your plaques and photographs and awards and gold records and stuff in your bathroom. I don't know why.

I hated the compound, I hated the dark, dirty room, I hated the filthy bathroom, and I hated everything about it, especially the constant state of terror and fear.

Where are we supposed to go to the bathroom?" he asked Magnet. Magnet gestured with his arms to the great expanse around them. "Pick a hole, any hole," he said.

Life is like a movie-since there aren't any commercial breaks, you have to get up and go to the bathroom in the middle of it.

I do like to read in bed, but because I have two kids I'm often forced to read in the bathroom.

You cannot have one bathroom. And it don't matter how much you love your wife and everything, 'cause you wind up with no room at all. You just get a little corner, and you've got a toothbrush and your paste and a shaving brush and a razor.

I get really nervous if pigeons are flying around before shows. I can't stand them after one once flew in through my bathroom window and went for me while I was having a wee. That was enough. I think pigeons target me.

People will email me and text me if they've found an amazing loo. I'm like, 'How was the food?' They'll say, 'Fine, but you have to check out the loo.'

Turning on the shower, he thought of the wildly fancy bathroom at Charlotte's house. It was funny to think of, but the bathrooms he liked weren't fancy; this one, and the one at Seymour's, and the one at Harry's. They weren't fancy, but they were home. He got in the shower. The one squirt that always went haywire hit him right in the eye. He laughed up into the warm water running over his ears.

Inside was a small white metal cupboard with a mirror in the door, the kind you see over the basin in old-fashioned bathrooms.

And dried toothpaste is all over the floor. I think Jackie dropped his tube and then stepped on it.

I kind of have to go to the bathroom, Aria said woozily. Ezra smiled. Can I come?

Cookbooks, it should be stressed, do not belong in the kitchen at all. We keep them there for the sake of appearances; occasionally, we smear their pages together with vibrant green glazes or crimson compotes, in order to delude ourselves, and any passing browsers, that we are practicing cooks; but in all honesty, a cookbook is something you read in the living room, or in the bathroom, or in bed.

What I remember about that experience is that if you went to go see ' Born On The Fourth Of July' and you happened to take a bathroom break real quick or grab some popcorn, you probably missed me. It was short, but it was memorable.

If you're a man, you're a man. If you're a woman, you're a woman. You use the bathroom of your gender. If you can't figure it out, I'm not sure I can help you.

I started singing in the bathroom. Nothing was coming out. It was ghastly.

Once, I lived in an apartment with a skylight in the bathroom. Every winter, it would snow through the skyline, but we got a discount because of it.

Ignoring fame was my rebellion, in a funny way. I was insistent on being normal and doing normal things. It probably wasn't advisable to go to college in America and room with a complete stranger. And it probably wasn't wise to share a bathroom with eight other people in a coed dorm. Looking back, that was crazy.

I guess I'm not that metrosexual. My bathroom cabinet is hardly overflowing with products. I only really have my stuff for shaving. I can't honestly say I moisturise, though I probably should.