Ms. Smartarse > Recent Status Updates

"I don't understand," said Robin. "Why don't you just have them cook Cantonese dishes?"
"Because English cuisine reminds one of home," said Reverend Gützlaff. "One appreciates such creature comforts on faraway journeys."
"But it tastes like rubbish," said Ramy.
"And nothing could be more English," said Reverend Gützlaff, cutting vigorously into his grey meat.

Her distress belied a deeper terror, a terror which Robin felt as well, that Anthony had been expendable. That they were all expendable. That this tower - this place where they had for the first time found belonging - treasured and loved them when they were alive and useful but didn't, in fact, care about them at all. That they were, in the end, only vessels for the languages they spoke.

Why had they not paused to interrogate their differences in birth, in raising, that meant they were not and could never be on the same side?
But the answer was obvious -- that they were all four of them drowning in the unfamiliar, and they saw in each other a raft, and clinging to one another was the only way to stay afloat.

Svetlana covered her mouth with one hand, eyes still wide. He could tell she was smiling, though.
"Ilya," she finally said. "Holy shit."
"Yes."
She grinned wickedly at him. "Did you fuck every woman in Canada and had to move on to men?"

"How many dogs exactly?"
"Some. Maybe one, to start. And then he needs a friend, so two. Maybe they don't like each other we get number three to be, um..."
"A mediator?"
"Okay. Maybe, yes."
"And if they don't like that one?"
"The fourth dog will--"

"Is this the dock that you do yoga on?" he asked.
"No, I don't do yoga on here. This was just where the camera asked me to... wait. Did you watch that thing?"
"Yes. Was great. I needed help sleeping."

"You kids know who that guy is?" Ilya asked.
"Shane Hollander!" most of them said at once.
"Really?" Ilya said, feigning shock. "You've heard of that guy?"
They laughed. One of the braver ones said, "He's the best player in the league."
"Okay, you're out of the race. Out of the pool. Out of Florida. Goodbye. Where's your dad?"

Ilya took [the phone] and entered his number into Hollander's contacts, under the name Lily. Hollander snorted when he saw it.
"Who should I be?" he asked as he picked up Ilya's phone from the dresser. "Shannon?"
"Jane," Ilya said.
"Jesus Christ," Hollander muttered as he typed.
"No. Just Jane."

"Renate, you can't drink as long as [the minister] here is".
I was outraged. "What does that mean?!"
"You keep telling dirty jokes."
Ilse grinned.
"Let's go back in, I don't want to leave the minister and Kurt alone for so long. They started debating earlier wether Jesus was crucified or if the russians shot him."

The older you get, the more clearly you need to understand three things:
What am I good at?
What do I want to do?
What do I have to do?

Talent is what you're good at.
Dream is what you want to do.
Profession is what you have to do.
There is an overlap between these three, and that is what you have to find. When talent, dream, and profession come together, you can even make money from it.

“I have always done my work out of conviction, and I turned it into my life’s work. I have only ever said what needed to be said. So why is everyone getting so worked up about me supposedly complaining all the time?”

“Well, I don’t think having strong convictions is necessarily a bad thing. The problem is that most conservative bastards only ever listen to themselves, and never to other people.”

"And what about a guy like me, rough around the edges with no customer experience - think I could handle this job?"
"Sir, didn't you say you work in a detective agency? That's basically... a high-intensity service job, isn't it? Dealing with all sorts of difficult, shady people... Here, aside from one [pain in the ass] granny who wants a refund on her half-eaten ice-cream [...], all our customers are gentle lambs."

"I left it out for you."
"But why?"
"Well... I told you before... corn silk tea is as addictive as a-alcohol," the man said with a grin. "If you drink two or three a day... it's good for our sales. So it's basically... bait."

In Pashto, my mother tongue, we have no word for anxiety. Where I grew up people didn't speak about their mental health. I hand't heard the words or the concept before we came to England. In Pakistan psychological concerns are often ignored, or seen as a curse from God.

"Think about [tutorials] as Education through interrogation."
I nodded energetically, like I couldn't wait to be questioned for my intellectual crimes.

There had been a schism in the Cryptic Crossword Club. Colin Clemence's weekly solving challenge had been won by Irene Dougherty for the third week running. Frank Carpenter had made an accusation of impropriety [which] had gained some momentum. The following day a profane crossword clue had been pinned to Colin Clemence's door, and, the moment he had solved it, all hell had broken loose.

'You're very beautiful, by the way,' says Ian to Donna. 'For a police officer.'
'You'll see how beautiful I am if I ever have to arrest you,' says Donna.
'Well, not beautiful. But definitely attractive enough for round here.'
'Thank you for your time, Mr. Ventham,' says Chris, standing. 'If there's anything else, we'll be in touch. And if you ever need to tell me that I'm beautiful, you have my number.'

For really complete disaster maps, Louis remembered thinking, see your local doctor.

Rachel came up then, her travelling bag and pocket-book slung over one arm, Gage's diaper bag (I'LL BE A BIG BOY SOON was printed on the side, a sentiment probably more meant to cheer up the parents than the diaper-wearing child) slung over the other.

"I don't want Church [cat] to be like all those dead pets!" she burst out, suddenly tearful and furious. "I don't want Church to ever be dead! He's my cat! He's not God's cat! Let God have his own cat! Let God have all the damn old cats He wants, and kill them all! Church is mine!"


🥺🥺🥺

"How do you read so quickly? Is it some kind of... I dunno, magic thing?"
"I look at the page, and then the words are in my mind. That's the accepted way, yes?"
"All of the words on the page? All at once?"
"You read them one by one?"
"Yes!"
"That seem quite inefficient, if you don't mind my saying so."


*agrees in reading slump*

"But you did like [the book]? Even with the distinct lack of sword-fighting?"
Viv thought for a moment, idly moving the bits with her thumb. "Well, there was plenty of fighting, I guess. Just not a lot of bleeding."

Children, as was well known, could all be beautiful in their mothers' eyes, but Suae didn't agree at all. When someone is ugly, they're ugly, and that's it. If you think they're cute regardless just because they're your son, then you're not seeing clearly.

If I sensed that someone was hiding something, I'd feel a mix of sympathy and strange fascination for that person - the more elusive the secret, the stronger my curiosity grew. That night with E., however, affected me in a way I had never experienced before. It was an uncomfortable, bitter feeling: I had believed I was undressing an attractive woman, only to realize it was actually a little girl.

She ran until daylight broke and kept running - along a road with no destination, leading only nowhere. And so she ran on the endless treadmill, softly gasping, without pause, as if into eternity.

"Why do you look guilty all of a sudden?"
"Do I?" Wesley said weakly.
"You never look guilty," said Sebastian. "You have no shame."

Matteo was turning out to be snappish, cynical and protective of Sebastian. Ugh, he was almost tolerable.

"Xenophobia is a waste of time," Lord Fine went on like he hadn't just paid Sebastian something of a compliment. "Everyone is a foreigner somewhere. Foreigners are just people, and all people are universally terrible, so what's the point of despising foreigners in particular?"

English upper lip meets Spanish guilt and sparks fly... and SO. MUCH. CHEESE.

"Friendships like yours, feelings like yours - they are their own kind of magic. And a betrayal this deep, necessary to fool a telepath - your trust in one another might not have survived." She shook her head. "We would not destroy you like that. Better Ellis and I do it alone, and remain your villains, while your love for each other stays unspoiled."