zombies

That's it. New rule: no more flirting during the zombie apocalypse

Is there anything hotter than a cute guy who is also armed and dangerous? I think not.

Are you going to rape me at any point or anything?" I just figured it was good to get things out in the open, get myself in the right headspace. He whipped his head around and looked at me like I'd just insulted his grandmother. "The fuck? No, I'm not." He gave me the squint side-long. "Are you going to rape me?

Admit when you're wrong. It doesn't fix a busted leg, of course, but it's a nice gesture none-the-less.

I hate zombies.I know that sound prejudiced. I'm sure some zombies are really nice to kittens and love their parents. But it's been my experience that most are not the kind of people you want sending you friend requests.

Oh, you're a picky sort, huh?" He laughed. "That takes balls, being choosy at a time like this.

We are in the middle of what looks increasingly like the zombie apocalypse. Moaning people don't need help. Moaning people are intending to eat us.

Zombies are the ideal late twentieth-century monsters. A zombie is the one thing you can't deal with. It survives anything. Frankenstein's monster and Dracula could be sent down in so many ways. Zombies, though, fall outside all this. You can't argue with them. They just keep coming at you.

OMG YOU GUYS it has come to my attention that SOMEONE on the internet is saying that my fictional 19th century zombies are NOT SCIENTIFICALLY SOUND. Naturally, I am crushed. To think, IF ONLY I__ consulted with a zombologist or two before sitting down to write, I could__e avoided ALL THIS EMBARRASSMENT.

I just find it interesting that kids apparently used to cry when Bambi's mother died. George and I both held our breaths, and then cheered when she didn't reanimate and try to eat her son.

Talk openly about important issues like money, sex, and religion. They can affect your life and happiness a great deal. Especially when it comes to cults.

This is the way the world ends; not with a bang or a whimper, but with zombies breaking down the back door.

This is the part in the movie where that guy says, "Zombies? What zombies?" just before they eat his brains. I don't want to be that guy.

So you killed him with what now?""I tried that Dr. Phil book at first"..."And I finished it off with the toilet seat. Just so you know, you left it up again. That drives me crazy.

He could wear hats. He could wear an assortment of hats of different shapes and styles. Boater hats, cowboy hats, bowler hats. The list went on. Pork-pie hats, bucket hats, trillbies and panamas. Top hats, straw hats, trapper hats. Wide brim narrow brim, stingy brim. He could wear a fez. Fezzes were cool. Hadn't someone once said that fezzes were cool? He was pretty aur ether had. And they were. They were cool.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a zombie in possession of brains must be in want of more brains.

Present a united front: YOU against the zombies.

I'm watching her talk. Watching her jaw move and collecting her words one by one as they spill from her lips. I don't deserve them. Her warm memories. I'd like to paint them over the bare plaster walls of my soul, but everything I paint seems to peel.