My Saturday Night. My Saturday night is like a microwave burrito. Very tough to ruin something that starts out so bad to begin with.
I would much rather be hated for who I am, then loved for something that I am not.
Luck? Good luck? GM, the last time I checked, luck is for losers.
I'll go be the best in the world somewhere else.
A whole bunch of people told me that if I went to WWE, I'd never make it. But it's like I never heard them. I never listened. To me, I'm exactly where I belong. I feel like I was born to do this. Whatever your walk in life is, you pick what you want to be, then go ahead and be the best one.
You're not funny and nobody likes you!
I like pressure. It's that kind of thing that will actually help me perform to the best of my abilities. It will help me with training. It'll help with everything.
Year-end financial statements. . . express a truth about office life which is no less irrefutable yet also, in the end, no less irrelevant or irritating than an evolutionary biologist's proud reminder that the purpose of existence lies in the propagation of our genes.
I'm against big bureaucracy in Washington making health care decisions. I just have an aversion to bureaucrats. But it's not just government bureaucrats. I don't like HMO bureaucrats and insurance company bureaucrats either.
Creation lives alone in a small temple. Only one may worship at a time.
The only consistent narrative we possess is one that we share with every other life-form: we are born, we live, and then we die.