Merrill Markoe Quotations

No one would argue against the fact that L.A. leads the country in opportunities for being hip and pretentious.

A few last men to beware: guys who won't remove their hats and sunglasses - they think you're too thick to notice the stuff they think they're hiding.

It's just like magic. When you live by yourself, all of your annoying habits are gone.

I, too, have never seen an episode of Moesha, and even more amazing, I have never even read a TV Guide description of an episode.

If you begin a conversation about potato salad and find yourself being called a castrating bitch, don't waste your time going around and around about this with your girlfriends, trying to figure out what happened.

If he smells stinky or doesn't have time to call, it probably isn't because he's so busy. It's because he doesn't really care what you think. Period.

I really enjoyed Merrill Markoe's Guide To Glamorous Living, which was a weird hybrid reality/sketch thing I wrote, directed, and hosted, with two male-model bimbos whom I made agree with everything I said.

When you have been writing for a lot of years, you have to make an effort not to start repeating yourself. It occurred to me that I tended to tread certain ground automatically, because it was comfortable, but that there were areas I avoided automatically because they made me nervous.

When anyone lacks self-awareness and doesn't recognize their transparencies, it's always funny.

I don't like the celebrity gossip culture, and I certainly don't want to contribute to it. I don't care about the Kardashians, or any of them.

Reality television is a scripted hyper-life that employs writers, but won't allow them to call themselves writers or join the union.

My goal was always getting my work out in the world, and in many ways, I feel like the luckiest person alive.

I care about being creative and productive.

I have learned that the stuff that causes me anxiety, the stuff I instinctively veer away from, is usually a road map to where my own creative growth can be found. So I consciously head toward the places that make me uncomfortable.

Since - in my belief system - we each get only one go-round here on planet Earth, it is the task of the writer to interpret, examine, and reflect on the specifics of their one and only life experience.

It's just like magic. When you live by yourself, all your annoying habits are gone!.

Beware the cute, hot guy who kind of reminds you of the parent you don't get along with: your cold, distant father who left when you were a kid or your hot-tempered mother whom you could never please.

More than any other personality trait, my mother seemed to be ruled by anger and sadness. She seemed to hate being a mother. Watching her unhappiness as I grew up made me conclude that the answer was to try and be as unemotional as I could, which many therapists have taught me is a bad idea. It also made me want to avoid marriage and having children.

A more complex - but only slightly more original - way to feel out of it is available at the hip and pretentious nightclubs and bars along the Sunset Strip.

I always hated those classic kid movies like Old Yeller or The Yearling where the beloved pet dies. What would be so wrong with having those damn kids learn their lessons about mortality from watching Grandpa kick? Then at least the dog would be around to comfort them.

You just never know when it might be cookie time. And, that is what the dogs have taught me.

Of the things I know to be true in life, right at the top of the list of irrefutable truths is, "No one ever listens to anyone." It might even be No. 1.

In a way, watching an attractive, potentially dangerous guy play guitar is a little like watching a tiger agree to do tricks for his trainer. You know that they could just turn and kill you. But you're so flattered and pleased that instead they agreed to stand on a decorative box and wave and count for the crowd that for a while you forget how big the scary part of them really is.

A wacky, trendy outfit on a guy over 40 indicates he's got big issues.

Some people know that they are so adorable looking, all they have to do is smile and dress up and they get plenty from that. Then there are some of us who, early on, see that that doesn't work. So we joke about it.

We are pretty sure that we and our pets share the same reality, until one day we come home to find that our wistful, intelligent friend who reminds us of our better self has decided a good way to spend the day is to open a box of Brillo pads, unravel a few, distribute some throughout the house, and eat or wear all the rest. And we shake our heads in an inability to comprehend what went wrong here.

As you can imagine this is a very emotional moment for me because Dave promised me many times that I was the only woman he would ever cheat on.

They were soul mates, my mother and father. They claimed to adore each other, as if the word 'adore' meant 'argue with ceaselessly.

Men who have a lot of charm have it in place of something real that you are eventually going to want from them and find that they do not have.

My dogs, the only creatures on the planet marked by my singular nurturing imprint, have all turned out to be rude and self-absorbed. In all likelihood, if they were children instead of dogs, I would have foisted more Charlie Sheens or Kardashians onto our crumbling culture.

Whatever behavior you've experienced from people in the past, expect them to do it again and again and again.

The day is divided into two important sections: Mealtimes and everything else.

Men, as a general rule, shy away from therapy because there is no obvious way to keep score.

my mother ... took the fact that my taste differed from hers as a personal insult.

The whole narcissism and echo syndrome is usually the result of early childhood training. Those are very hard habits for anyone to break.

It's surely no accident that there are horoscopes in Vogue, Glamour, Mademoiselle, Woman, New Woman, Elle and Cosmo ... but not Sports Illustrated, GQ, Esquire, Field & Stream or Guns & Ammo.

whenever I encountered a slide show titled 'Eight Diet Foods That Pack on the Pounds' or 'Celebrity Fashion Fails,' I'd have to stop and investigate because hey, it might be information I'd need in some unforeseeable future where I had become, for some reason, a fat celebrity.

I’ve made my life’s work spotting assholes. And you know, I think it’s harder now than ever before because there’s so many socially acceptable ways to exhibit a pathological lack of empathy.

Reality TV has managed to commodify everything we used to think of as the elements of normal life.

Beware the old man in young guy's clothes. If he's over 35 and comes to pick you up looking as though he's headed for a skateboarding competition while you are dressed to go to a nice restaurant, this is not a good sign.

Every moment of your life that is not a complete nightmare is happiness.

our culture is definitely the eighth grade. It's run by eighth-grade boys, and the way these boys show a girl they like her is by humiliating her and making her cry.

The phrase "singular incredible life" seems to me that it applies more appropriately to Jane Goodall or David Attenborough, people I regard with awe and who stand for great humanism and knowledge.

No one would argue against the fact that L.A. leads the country in opportunities for being hip and pretentious.

Conversely, beware the man who does nothing but ask you questions about yourself and offers no information about himself. Not only is he keeping you at bay, he is probably not listening to your answers.

I think people figure out early in their lives what currency they can work in.

I am deeply grateful for the life I do have. In many ways, I am very fortunate.

Here’s what I learned: First thing in the morning, before I have drowned myself in coffee, while I still have that sleepy brain I used to believe was useless — that is the best brain for creative writing. Words come pouring out easily while my head still feels as if it is full of ground fog, wrapped in flannel and gauze, and surrounded by a hive of humming, velvety sleep bees.

Beware the man who doesn't ask you any questions about yourself on your first date.

I sometimes look into the face of my dog Stan and see a wistful sadness and existential angst, when all he is actually doing is slowly scanning the ceiling for flies.