Quotes About Karen

And why not?" "You know why! This is a bad idea." "Perhaps I like a challenge." "Perhaps you're a glutton for punishment!" "Perhaps I am in love.

I just feel so flattered, because the cosplayers really make sure every detail is there. I don't think I've ever cosplayed a character before, but if I were to, I'd probably go as a Klingon from 'Star Trek.'

Karen will never die. Max Mutchnick, one of the creators of the show, has always maintained that Karen is a bat who balls up and hangs from a rafter and sleeps during the day and that she'll live forever.

was one of those sort of apocalyptic moments," he said later. After seeing what Xerox called a graphical user interface (sometimes pronounced

First month honey. . .Next month pie. . .Third month. . .Get out here and work, you damn bitch, same as I.

If I'm not supposed to be awake, why are you here?" I mumbled. "To be the little spoon.

And why not?" "You know why! This is a bad idea." "Perhaps I like a challenge." "Perhaps you're a glutton for punishment!" "Perhaps I am in love.

So I guess this makes me your sidekick, right?" he asked. "Like I could be…" "Robin?" He scowled. "I ain't no Robin." "What's wrong with Robin?" "What's wrong?" Ray rolled his eyes. "Two words: green Speedo. And he was lame. Batman was always having to save his ass." I didn't say anything.

What is your problem?" I asked, scooping the freezing mess out of my cleavage. "We got unfinished business," he reminded me. "My name's not Bill." He chuckled. "Yeah, I loved that movie. Shoulda brought a katana, but it seemed like an unfair advantage.

Pritkin was saying something, something I should probably be paying attention to since he was looking a little...stressed.

I was the kind of gal who thought the nightgown drawer was where old T-shirts went to die and

Those who are meek shall inherit this earth; the ugly ones shall have their cake and munch on it, too.

Let's you and me get together and do away with some of the possibilities.

One hundred copies? Of these poems you do not even like?" asked the Roman. "They're nasty bits about famous people; everyone will want them.

Besides, I'm not sure they let ferrets into Heaven and I'd miss old Mavet.

That's it. Fate is a fickle whore. We're not going. Take your clothes off and get back in my bed.

That's it. Fate is a fickle whore. We're not going. Take your clothes off and get back in my bed.

Okay, Barrons, it's time." "I am not helping you shave your legs." he said instantly. "Oh please. As if I'd let you.

Dude. Post-apocalyptic world. Who does job applications anymore?" "I do." I squint at it, then him. "What are you paying me?" I angle. "Dude. Post-apocalyptic world. Who does money anymore." I snicker. First sign of any sense of humor he's shown. Then I remember where I am and why. I wad it up and throw it at him. It bounces off his chest.

From who?" "From whom, I believe is the correct phrasing." "All right, from-the-fuck-whom, Ms. Lane?

Whether I see the Fae, or whether I'm a man. I believe I've laid your mind to rest on the former; shall I relieve it on the latter?" He reached for his belt. "Oh, please." I rolled my eyes. "You're a leftie, Barrons." "Touché, Ms. Lane," he murmured.

He looked blank. "He's the one who's been doing the magic against us?" "Duh," I said. "Doona be 'duh'ing me, lass," he growled, his burr thickening.

We were watching Barrons. Why were you watching Barrons? Barrons needs watching.

He looks at me, looks at my head, and his lips twitch like he's trying not to bust out laughing. "You don't need that... whatever the fuck it is." "Ain't dying by Shade. It's a MacHalo.