I had never been in charge of anything. I'd always worked for someone. I worked for a furniture warehouse. I did masonry. I always had a boss yelling at me. So I'd never been in charge of an organization.
It's not tough at all as long as the fans are yelling, screaming and hollering.
I love to go down to the schoolyard and watch all the little children jump up and down and run around yelling and screaming. They don't know I'm only using blanks.
Anybody singing the blues is in a deep pit yelling for help.
My mom is still yelling at me because she needs more autographed pictures.
Sometimes, with two strikes and two outs, I step off the mound. People are yelling, they're yelling really loud. I step off because I want to feel it. You've got all that adrenaline going, you've got that rush. People think I'm thinking about something, but I'm just trying to listen to everyone and feed off it.
It was all those biographies in me yelling, 'We want out. We want to tell you what we've done to you.'
I do go through a mini depression because one minute there are people yelling and screaming for me on stage and the next I'm at home and it's dead quiet. So it takes a while to come down.
I live in Los Angeles and I had been drinking one night, so I was on the walk of fame and I saw Tony Danza's star and I started urinating on it. Just yelling out, 'Who's the boss now?'
The thing about loving someone, is that yelling at them only feels good while you're doing it -- as soon as they're gone, all you want to do is take it all back
Certain voices hold this odd pull on our heartstrings. They are like sad oboes or something, something that makes you want to throw all your money at the radio while yelling, "I love you." I don't know what it is.
Yelling Irish you can sound like an angry Leprechaun.
President Bush spent last night calling world leaders to support the war with Iraq and it is sad when the most powerful man on earth is yelling, 'I know you're there, pick up, pick up.
Each time you indulge in the emotion of anger or the behavior of yelling at a loved one, you reinforce the neural connection and increase the likelihood that you'll do it again.
Steven wrote to me today, saying, 'Don't you feel like sticking your head out of the window and yelling, "I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING!!!"' Yes, absolutely. Solidarity. Fear is always the same. Different worries with different scripts, but the same baseline fear.
That could be applied to whatever you feel. Maybe anger is your thing. You just go out of control and you see red, and the next thing you know you're yelling or throwing something or hitting someone. At that time, begin to accept the fact that that's "enraged buddha." If you feel jealous, that's "jealous buddha." If you have indigestion, that's "buddha with heartburn." If you're happy, "happy buddha"; if bored, "bored buddha." In other words, anything that you can experience or think is worthy of compassion; anything you could think or feel is worthy of appreciation.
This was on my vision board. To run out there and be hitting game winners, getting the fans riled up. When they're stomping on the floor yelling 'New York Knicks'—that's a great feeling.
As soon as you start to get tired, as soon as you start to get behind, as soon as your coach starts yelling at you, a lot of doors open up to quit; you got to find that one reason to stay in that battle, one reason to stay in the fire and fight.
The bone's 6 inches out of his leg and all he's yelling is, 'Win the game, win the game.' I've not seen that in my life. Pretty special young man. I don't think we could have gathered ourselves - I know I couldn't have - if Kevin didn't say over and over again, 'Just go win the game,' I don't think we could have gone in the locker room with a loss after seeing that. We had to gather ourselves. We couldn't lose this game for him. We just couldn't.
Yelling doesn't win ball games. It doesn't put any points on the scoreboard. And I don't think words win ball games all the time. Players do. Preparation does.
A few weeks after my surgery, I went out to play catch with my golden retriever. When I bent over to pick up the ball, my prosthesis fell out. The dog snatched it, and I found myself chasing him down the road yelling "Hey, come back here with my breast!"
When did an old white guy yelling at me, telling me what to think become news? What gives him the right to tell me what to think? When was the last time he was in Iraq or Afghanistan or Sri Lanka... or anywhere that didn't have a beach?
I promise I shall never give up, and that I'll die yelling & laughing.
Defend my honor protect my pride the good advice i always hated but looking back it made me greater .. u make me laugh u make me hoarse from yelling at you and getting at u.
Bullying behaviour can be communicated via text, mobile phones, internet, social networking sites, forums. But we can't limit it because these messages are then reinforced by television which glamorises yelling, swearing and vulgar behaviour as the way to walk the red carpet of acceptance.
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