I'll tell you what you want to hear. I mean, what I need to hear. I'll tell the truth.
Cussing like a commoner wasn't something I was tested on. I picked that habit up outside of high school.
As academia became my identity, my fascination with firefighters became buried and, seemingly, died.
What does a guy say to that? What does an inexperienced guy say to a beautiful, smart, proper girl who's not supposed to say things like that?
Patience, persistence and hard work lead to success and happiness. Or you can do whatever the hell you want and with a bit or a whole lot of luck you'll stumble onto success and happiness.
Misadventure asked what the harm was partaking in one more and I decided not to argue with her.
An adventurer has a purpose. Such as finding new lands and valuable treasures. A misadventurer, besides doing it for the hell of it and for a good time, doesn't really have a good purpose.
A misadventure is an act that has a safer, less self-detrimental, less interesting alternative. But you choose that act because you want to do something memorable and worthy of discussion.
I'd been exposed to alternate ways of thinking and it seriously affected the way my mother had reared me.
Substituting the discount rate for the ever increasing chance of death and a dollar for joy, joy today is worth more than joy tomorrow.
Misadventure will always cause someone to be pissed off at you, because they don't know what degree you're willing to go to to satisfy your need for misadventure.
As long as you don't kill someone or seriously maim them, sure, it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks as long as you have a good time.
One thing a girl loves more than a bad boy is a self-aware bad boy.
They had to be untrustworthy enough to buy a minor alcohol but trustworthy enough to not walk away with my money.
Acting with confidence, but inside lacking certainty, I'd told her I could.
Maybe if you allowed me to blow off some steam, I wouldn't have been so frustrated when I had to find higher order fucking derivatives.
After spending the previous night the way I had, I felt I could afford to lose some of the daytime to sleep.
There were no snooty commuters at this late hour. They were home snug in their beds where they should be.
The purpose of water is to drink it but we swim in it for the fun of it.
My anger tempted the act of delinquency and it felt good to dabble.
