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Men always say that as the defining compliment, don’t they? She’s a cool girl. Being the Cool Girl means I am a hot, brilliant, funny woman who adores football, poker, dirty jokes, and burping, who plays video games, drinks cheap beer, loves threesomes and anal sex, and jams hot dogs and hamburgers into her mouth like she’s hosting the world’s biggest culinary gang bang while somehow maintaining a size 2, because Cool Girls are above all hot. Hot and understanding. Cool Girls never get angry; they only smile in a chagrined, loving manner and let their men do whatever they want. Go ahead, shit on me, I don’t mind, I’m the Cool Girl.Men actually think this girl exists. Maybe they’re fooled because so many women are willing to pretend to be this girl. For a long time Cool Girl offended me. I used to see men – friends, coworkers, strangers – giddy over these awful pretender women, and I’d want to sit these men down and calmly say: You are not dating a woman, you are dating a woman who has watched too many movies written by socially awkward men who’d like to believe that this kind of woman exists and might kiss them. I’d want to grab the poor guy by his lapels or messenger bag and say: The bitch doesn’t really love chili dogs that much – no one loves chili dogs that much! And the Cool Girls are even more pathetic: They’re not even pretending to be the woman they want to be, they’re pretending to be the woman a man wants them to be. Oh, and if you’re not a Cool Girl, I beg you not to believe that your man doesn’t want the Cool Girl. It may be a slightly different version – maybe he’s a vegetarian, so Cool Girl loves seitan and is great with dogs; or maybe he’s a hipster artist, so Cool Girl is a tattooed, bespectacled nerd who loves comics. There are variations to the window dressing, but believe me, he wants Cool Girl, who is basically the girl who likes every fucking thing he likes and doesn’t ever complain. (How do you know you’re not Cool Girl? Because he says things like: I like strong women. If he says that to you, he will at some point fuck someone else. Because I like strong women is code for I hate strong women.) ― Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl

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Men always say that as the defining compliment, don’t they? She’s a cool girl. Being the Cool Girl means I am a hot, brilliant, funny woman who adores football, poker, dirty jokes, and burping, who plays video games, drinks cheap beer, loves threesomes and anal sex, and jams hot dogs and hamburgers into her mouth like she’s hosting the world’s biggest culinary gang bang while somehow maintaining a size 2, because Cool Girls are above all hot. Hot and understanding. Cool Girls never get angry; they only smile in a chagrined, loving manner and let their men do whatever they want. Go ahead, shit on me, I don’t mind, I’m the Cool Girl.Men actually think this girl exists. Maybe they’re fooled because so many women are willing to pretend to be this girl. For a long time Cool Girl offended me. I used to see men – friends, coworkers, strangers – giddy over these awful pretender women, and I’d want to sit these men down and calmly say: You are not dating a woman, you are dating a woman who has watched too many movies written by socially awkward men who’d like to believe that this kind of woman exists and might kiss them. I’d want to grab the poor guy by his lapels or messenger bag and say: The bitch doesn’t really love chili dogs that much – no one loves chili dogs that much! And the Cool Girls are even more pathetic: They’re not even pretending to be the woman they want to be, they’re pretending to be the woman a man wants them to be. Oh, and if you’re not a Cool Girl, I beg you not to believe that your man doesn’t want the Cool Girl. It may be a slightly different version – maybe he’s a vegetarian, so Cool Girl loves seitan and is great with dogs; or maybe he’s a hipster artist, so Cool Girl is a tattooed, bespectacled nerd who loves comics. There are variations to the window dressing, but believe me, he wants Cool Girl, who is basically the girl who likes every fucking thing he likes and doesn’t ever complain. (How do you know you’re not Cool Girl? Because he says things like: I like strong women. If he says that to you, he will at some point fuck someone else. Because I like strong women is code for I hate strong women.)
     ― Gillian Flynn,
  
    
      Gone Girl
Men always say that as the defining compliment, don’t they? She’s a cool girl. Being the Cool Girl means I am a hot, brilliant, funny woman who adores football, poker, dirty jokes, and burping, who plays video games, drinks cheap beer, loves threesomes and anal sex, and jams hot dogs and hamburgers into her mouth like she’s hosting the world’s biggest culinary gang bang while somehow maintaining a size 2, because Cool Girls are above all hot. Hot and understanding. Cool Girls never get angry; they only smile in a chagrined, loving manner and let their men do whatever they want. Go ahead, shit on me, I don’t mind, I’m the Cool Girl.Men actually think this girl exists. Maybe they’re fooled because so many women are willing to pretend to be this girl. For a long time Cool Girl offended me. I used to see men – friends, coworkers, strangers – giddy over these awful pretender women, and I’d want to sit these men down and calmly say: You are not dating a woman, you are dating a woman who has watched too many movies written by socially awkward men who’d like to believe that this kind of woman exists and might kiss them. I’d want to grab the poor guy by his lapels or messenger bag and say: The bitch doesn’t really love chili dogs that much – no one loves chili dogs that much! And the Cool Girls are even more pathetic: They’re not even pretending to be the woman they want to be, they’re pretending to be the woman a man wants them to be. Oh, and if you’re not a Cool Girl, I beg you not to believe that your man doesn’t want the Cool Girl. It may be a slightly different version – maybe he’s a vegetarian, so Cool Girl loves seitan and is great with dogs; or maybe he’s a hipster artist, so Cool Girl is a tattooed, bespectacled nerd who loves comics. There are variations to the window dressing, but believe me, he wants Cool Girl, who is basically the girl who likes every fucking thing he likes and doesn’t ever complain. (How do you know you’re not Cool Girl? Because he says things like: I like strong women. If he says that to you, he will at some point fuck someone else. Because I like strong women is code for I hate strong women.) ― Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl

Men always say that as the defining compliment, don’t they? She’s a cool girl. Being the Cool Girl means I am a hot, brilliant, funny woman who adores football, poker, dirty jokes, and burping, who plays video games, drinks cheap beer, loves threesomes and anal sex, and jams hot dogs and hamburgers into her mouth like she’s hosting the world’s biggest culinary gang bang while somehow maintaining a size 2, because Cool Girls are above all hot. Hot and understanding. Cool Girls never get angry; they only smile in a chagrined, loving manner and let their men do whatever they want. Go ahead, shit on me, I don’t mind, I’m the Cool Girl.Men actually think this girl exists. Maybe they’re fooled because so many women are willing to pretend to be this girl. For a long time Cool Girl offended me. I used to see men – friends, coworkers, strangers – giddy over these awful pretender women, and I’d want to sit these men down and calmly say: You are not dating a woman, you are dating a woman who has watched too many movies written by socially awkward men who’d like to believe that this kind of woman exists and might kiss them. I’d want to grab the poor guy by his lapels or messenger bag and say: The bitch doesn’t really love chili dogs that much – no one loves chili dogs that much! And the Cool Girls are even more pathetic: They’re not even pretending to be the woman they want to be, they’re pretending to be the woman a man wants them to be. Oh, and if you’re not a Cool Girl, I beg you not to believe that your man doesn’t want the Cool Girl. It may be a slightly different version – maybe he’s a vegetarian, so Cool Girl loves seitan and is great with dogs; or maybe he’s a hipster artist, so Cool Girl is a tattooed, bespectacled nerd who loves comics. There are variations to the window dressing, but believe me, he wants Cool Girl, who is basically the girl who likes every fucking thing he likes and doesn’t ever complain. (How do you know you’re not Cool Girl? Because he says things like: I like strong women. If he says that to you, he will at some point fuck someone else. Because I like strong women is code for I hate strong women.)
― Gillian Flynn,

Gone Girl

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there is a loneliness in this world so greatthat you can see it in the slow movement ofthe hands of a clock.people so tiredmutilatedeither by love or no love.people just are not good to each otherone on one.the rich are not good to the richthe poor are not good to the poor.we are afraid.our educational system tells usthat we can all bebig-ass winners.it hasn’t told usabout the guttersor the suicides.or the terror of one personaching in one placealoneuntouchedunspoken towatering a plant. ― Charles Bukowski, Love Is a Dog from Hell

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there is a loneliness in this world so greatthat you can see it in the slow movement ofthe hands of a clock.people so tiredmutilatedeither by love or no love.people just are not good to each otherone on one.the rich are not good to the richthe poor are not good to the poor.we are afraid.our educational system tells usthat we can all bebig-ass winners.it hasn't told usabout the guttersor the suicides.or the terror of one personaching in one placealoneuntouchedunspoken towatering a plant.
     ― Charles Bukowski,
  
    
      Love Is a Dog from Hell
there is a loneliness in this world so greatthat you can see it in the slow movement ofthe hands of a clock.people so tiredmutilatedeither by love or no love.people just are not good to each otherone on one.the rich are not good to the richthe poor are not good to the poor.we are afraid.our educational system tells usthat we can all bebig-ass winners.it hasn't told usabout the guttersor the suicides.or the terror of one personaching in one placealoneuntouchedunspoken towatering a plant. ― Charles Bukowski, Love Is a Dog from Hell

there is a loneliness in this world so greatthat you can see it in the slow movement ofthe hands of a clock.people so tiredmutilatedeither by love or no love.people just are not good to each otherone on one.the rich are not good to the richthe poor are not good to the poor.we are afraid.our educational system tells usthat we can all bebig-ass winners.it hasn’t told usabout the guttersor the suicides.or the terror of one personaching in one placealoneuntouchedunspoken towatering a plant.
― Charles Bukowski,

Love Is a Dog from Hell

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Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines he wrote a poemAnd he called it “Chops” because that was the name of his dogAnd that’s what it was all aboutAnd his teacher gave him an A and a gold starAnd his mother hung it on the kitchen door and read it to his auntsThat was the year Father Tracy took all the kids to the zooAnd he let them sing on the busAnd his little sister was born with tiny toenails and no hairAnd his mother and father kissed a lotAnd the girl around the corner sent him aValentine signed with a row of X’s and he had to ask his father what the X’s meantAnd his father always tucked him in bed at nightAnd was always there to do itOnce on a piece of white paper with blue lines he wrote a poemAnd he called it “Autumn” because that was the name of the seasonAnd that’s what it was all aboutAnd his teacher gave him an A and asked him to write more clearlyAnd his mother never hung it on the kitchen door because of its new paintAnd the kids told him that Father Tracy smoked cigarsAnd left butts on the pewsAnd sometimes they would burn holesThat was the year his sister got glasses with thick lenses and black framesAnd the girl around the corner laughed when he asked her to go see Santa ClausAnd the kids told him why his mother and father kissed a lotAnd his father never tucked him in bed at nightAnd his father got mad when he cried for him to do it.Once on a paper torn from his notebook he wrote a poemAnd he called it “Innocence: A Question” because that was the question about his girlAnd that’s what it was all aboutAnd his professor gave him an A and a strange steady lookAnd his mother never hung it on the kitchen door because he never showed herThat was the year that Father Tracy diedAnd he forgot how the end of the Apostle’s Creed wentAnd he caught his sister making out on the back porchAnd his mother and father never kissed or even talkedAnd the girl around the corner wore too much makeupThat made him cough when he kissed her but he kissed her anyway because that was the thing to doAnd at three a.m. he tucked himself into bed his father snoring soundlyThat’s why on the back of a brown paper bag he tried another poemAnd he called it “Absolutely Nothing”Because that’s what it was really all aboutAnd he gave himself an A and a slash on each damned wristAnd he hung it on the bathroom door because this time he didn’t think he could reach the kitchen. ― Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

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Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines	he wrote a poemAnd he called it
Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines he wrote a poemAnd he called it "Chops" because that was the name of his dogAnd that's what it was all aboutAnd his teacher gave him an A and a gold starAnd his mother hung it on the kitchen door and read it to his auntsThat was the year Father Tracy took all the kids to the zooAnd he let them sing on the busAnd his little sister was born with tiny toenails and no hairAnd his mother and father kissed a lotAnd the girl around the corner sent him aValentine signed with a row of X's and he had to ask his father what the X's meantAnd his father always tucked him in bed at nightAnd was always there to do itOnce on a piece of white paper with blue lines he wrote a poemAnd he called it "Autumn" because that was the name of the seasonAnd that's what it was all aboutAnd his teacher gave him an A and asked him to write more clearlyAnd his mother never hung it on the kitchen door because of its new paintAnd the kids told him that Father Tracy smoked cigarsAnd left butts on the pewsAnd sometimes they would burn holesThat was the year his sister got glasses with thick lenses and black framesAnd the girl around the corner laughed when he asked her to go see Santa ClausAnd the kids told him why his mother and father kissed a lotAnd his father never tucked him in bed at nightAnd his father got mad when he cried for him to do it.Once on a paper torn from his notebook he wrote a poemAnd he called it "Innocence: A Question" because that was the question about his girlAnd that's what it was all aboutAnd his professor gave him an A and a strange steady lookAnd his mother never hung it on the kitchen door because he never showed herThat was the year that Father Tracy diedAnd he forgot how the end of the Apostle's Creed wentAnd he caught his sister making out on the back porchAnd his mother and father never kissed or even talkedAnd the girl around the corner wore too much makeupThat made him cough when he kissed her but he kissed her anyway because that was the thing to doAnd at three a.m. he tucked himself into bed his father snoring soundlyThat's why on the back of a brown paper bag he tried another poemAnd he called it "Absolutely Nothing"Because that's what it was really all aboutAnd he gave himself an A and a slash on each damned wristAnd he hung it on the bathroom door because this time he didn't think he could reach the kitchen. ― Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines he wrote a poemAnd he called it “Chops” because that was the name of his dogAnd that’s what it was all aboutAnd his teacher gave him an A and a gold starAnd his mother hung it on the kitchen door and read it to his auntsThat was the year Father Tracy took all the kids to the zooAnd he let them sing on the busAnd his little sister was born with tiny toenails and no hairAnd his mother and father kissed a lotAnd the girl around the corner sent him aValentine signed with a row of X’s and he had to ask his father what the X’s meantAnd his father always tucked him in bed at nightAnd was always there to do itOnce on a piece of white paper with blue lines he wrote a poemAnd he called it “Autumn” because that was the name of the seasonAnd that’s what it was all aboutAnd his teacher gave him an A and asked him to write more clearlyAnd his mother never hung it on the kitchen door because of its new paintAnd the kids told him that Father Tracy smoked cigarsAnd left butts on the pewsAnd sometimes they would burn holesThat was the year his sister got glasses with thick lenses and black framesAnd the girl around the corner laughed when he asked her to go see Santa ClausAnd the kids told him why his mother and father kissed a lotAnd his father never tucked him in bed at nightAnd his father got mad when he cried for him to do it.Once on a paper torn from his notebook he wrote a poemAnd he called it “Innocence: A Question” because that was the question about his girlAnd that’s what it was all aboutAnd his professor gave him an A and a strange steady lookAnd his mother never hung it on the kitchen door because he never showed herThat was the year that Father Tracy diedAnd he forgot how the end of the Apostle’s Creed wentAnd he caught his sister making out on the back porchAnd his mother and father never kissed or even talkedAnd the girl around the corner wore too much makeupThat made him cough when he kissed her but he kissed her anyway because that was the thing to doAnd at three a.m. he tucked himself into bed his father snoring soundlyThat’s why on the back of a brown paper bag he tried another poemAnd he called it “Absolutely Nothing”Because that’s what it was really all aboutAnd he gave himself an A and a slash on each damned wristAnd he hung it on the bathroom door because this time he didn’t think he could reach the kitchen.
― Stephen Chbosky,

The Perks of Being a Wallflower

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Happiness is a warm puppy. ― Charles M. Schulz

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Happiness is a warm puppy.
     ― Charles M. Schulz
Happiness is a warm puppy. ― Charles M. Schulz

Happiness is a warm puppy.
― Charles M. Schulz

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Women and cats will do as they please, and men and dogs should relax and get used to the idea. ― Robert A. Heinlein

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Women and cats will do as they please, and men and dogs should relax and get used to the idea.
     ― Robert A. Heinlein
Women and cats will do as they please, and men and dogs should relax and get used to the idea. ― Robert A. Heinlein

Women and cats will do as they please, and men and dogs should relax and get used to the idea.
― Robert A. Heinlein

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The Paradoxical Commandments People are illogical, unreasonable, and self-centered.Love them anyway.If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish ulterior motives.Do good anyway.If you are successful, you will win false friends and true enemies.Succeed anyway.The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow.Do good anyway.Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable.Be honest and frank anyway.The biggest men and women with the biggest ideas can be shot down by the smallest men and women with the smallest minds.Think big anyway.People favor underdogs but follow only top dogs.Fight for a few underdogs anyway.What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight.Build anyway.People really need help but may attack you if you do help them.Help people anyway.Give the world the best you have and you’ll get kicked in the teeth.Give the world the best you have anyway. ― Kent M. Keith, The Silent Revolution: Dynamic Leadership in the Student Council

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The Paradoxical Commandments
People are illogical, unreasonable, and self-centered.Love them anyway.If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish ulterior motives.Do good anyway.If you are successful, you will win false friends and true enemies.Succeed anyway.The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow.Do good anyway.Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable.Be honest and frank anyway.The biggest men and women with the biggest ideas can be shot down by the smallest men and women with the smallest minds.Think big anyway.People favor underdogs but follow only top dogs.Fight for a few underdogs anyway.What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight.Build anyway.People really need help but may attack you if you do help them.Help people anyway.Give the world the best you have and you'll get kicked in the teeth.Give the world the best you have anyway.
     ― Kent M. Keith,
  
    
      The Silent Revolution: Dynamic Leadership in the Student Council
The Paradoxical Commandments People are illogical, unreasonable, and self-centered.Love them anyway.If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish ulterior motives.Do good anyway.If you are successful, you will win false friends and true enemies.Succeed anyway.The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow.Do good anyway.Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable.Be honest and frank anyway.The biggest men and women with the biggest ideas can be shot down by the smallest men and women with the smallest minds.Think big anyway.People favor underdogs but follow only top dogs.Fight for a few underdogs anyway.What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight.Build anyway.People really need help but may attack you if you do help them.Help people anyway.Give the world the best you have and you'll get kicked in the teeth.Give the world the best you have anyway. ― Kent M. Keith, The Silent Revolution: Dynamic Leadership in the Student Council

The Paradoxical Commandments
People are illogical, unreasonable, and self-centered.Love them anyway.If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish ulterior motives.Do good anyway.If you are successful, you will win false friends and true enemies.Succeed anyway.The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow.Do good anyway.Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable.Be honest and frank anyway.The biggest men and women with the biggest ideas can be shot down by the smallest men and women with the smallest minds.Think big anyway.People favor underdogs but follow only top dogs.Fight for a few underdogs anyway.What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight.Build anyway.People really need help but may attack you if you do help them.Help people anyway.Give the world the best you have and you’ll get kicked in the teeth.Give the world the best you have anyway.
― Kent M. Keith,

The Silent Revolution: Dynamic Leadership in the Student Council

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Outside of a dog, a book is man’s best friend. Inside of a dog it’s too dark to read. ― Groucho Marx, The Essential Groucho: Writings For By And About Groucho Marx

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Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read.
     ― Groucho Marx,
  
    
      The Essential Groucho: Writings For By And About Groucho Marx
Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read. ― Groucho Marx, The Essential Groucho: Writings For By And About Groucho Marx

Outside of a dog, a book is man’s best friend. Inside of a dog it’s too dark to read.
― Groucho Marx,

The Essential Groucho: Writings For By And About Groucho Marx

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