I didn't even think about suggesting he take the boots off. There'd probably be a apocalypse or something.
And if you voz to see my roziz As is a boon to all men's noziz, - You'd fall upon your back and scream - '" Lawk! O criky! it's a dream!"
When someone says 'Yasss queen!' to me, I turn around and, X-Men style, run through a wall. You'll never hear from me again.
My bark is far, far worse than my bite.
Everything I do is blown out of proportion. It really hurts my feelings.
Give a critic an inch, he'll write a play.
It was as hysterical as a woman having a hot flash.
I felt, if I'm going to react I might as well over react.
Shouts of dismay rose as the red flesh splattered against the table. It was only a tomato, but one would think I was pulping a decaying heart by the noise the big, strong FIB officers were making.
So my reaction to hearing this corny-ass, horrible song ["With Arms Wide Open" by Creed] is violent, uncontrollable, sustained weeping.
A hysterical human? Who hadn't seen that before?
Any reviewer who expresses rage and loathing for a novel is preposterous. He or she is like a person who has put on full armor and attacked a hot fudge sundae.
I did such a gigantic eye roll I almost fell over.
Noise proves nothing. Often a hen who has merely laid an egg cackles as if she laid an asteroid.
She turns to us, acts surprised to see us, then does the bit with the back of the hand to the forehead. "You're lost!" "You're angry!" "You're in the wrong school!" "You're in the wrong country!" "You're on the wrong planet!
The dog pranced delightedly around his feet as if he'd been gone to another planet instead of merely underneath a car.
We all know what flopping is when we see it. The stuff that you see is where guys aren't really getting hit at all and are just flailing around like a fish out of water.
There was a look of woe on his face that was almost comical. Raids, bullets, criminals...no problem. A missing duster? Crisis.
