the odds are , you will never find the love of ur life. but you will only have family….. family is everything and the odds are, the will be there forever
so love love love forget the odds and luv fam!!!!!!!!!!!! LOVEULOVE YU MOM DONT LISTEN TO THE BULLSHIT THE ODDS ARE BS!!!! t(-_-t) the haters and the ODDS…..
my odds of winning are slim to none i am a loser never a winner i am always the second choice not the first i will always be last the odds of winning are slim to none
The odds are not lookin good today folks. ive had a horrible day. I need to clean up . Theres lots of clutter. Need to pick up all my knick nacks and my odds and ends haha…hmm am i doing this right?
Tim felt his voice lock up in his chest, and grabbed the cape. It dropped on to the floor in a single movement, going ignored as the teen made his way across the room. Kon could sense the his breathing – he was hurt. However he leaned against the edge of the door, knowing Tim could sense him but reluctant to make any suggest gestures. He heard something strike the wall, and nosily fall on to the ground. Afterwards there were was a prolonged silence, and then footsteps. Kon froze as they approached the door, but suddenly came to stop. The door rattled against his back as it was knocked, awkwardly shaking him back on his toes. Tim sounded choked, and lacked direction his speech normally carried. “Kon,” He heard. “Kon, let’s go home.”
I was at odds with myself, trying to figure out the best possible academic option for my daughter. I’ve made the decision to go forward, what are the odds that it may have been a bad idea? We should know in a few short weeks. For now, I am hopeful. What are the odds that in 60 seconds, I am stopped from typing? It seems like I’ve been typing forever, and honestly I don’t type very fast.
why does it always have to be at odds? why can’t it just work without a mess? I just want to lay under stars with starry eyes, anywhere in the world. And gain perspectives of the oddities of life. In the peace of not knowing.
The odds of us staying together are slim,
The odds of this ending well are slim,
The odds of us staying friends are slim,
But I’m willing to take the chance<3
Odds are, he’d find out one way or another. Her father had a strange sense when something in the house was broken, even if it was an inconsequential as a fountain pen. But this was more important than a pen. This cracked item represented his childhood dreams. Was he ever a child like her? Did he break her grandfather’s valuables, only to be whipped and scolded?
Odds and ends filled her “man dror.” yes, women have those too, and hers was filled with hair dye, tools, and foreign currency, in case she ever traveled across the ocean again. Would she travel to see him again? She mused as she searched through the drawer, looking for a key that was probably lost. She remembered his smile, running her fingers through her hair. Aha! I’ve found it!
I can’t even win a chook raffle. Every Melbourne Cup I make a donation. I never bother with the pokies ’cause I know it’s a lost cause. The bookies at the trots give me a wry smile but think I’m a joke with my $2 each way bets, and then I never win anyway. So what made me think to back myself and make a bet on my life? Despite the riding colours & numbers & omens being right the odds were stacked against me.
Odds are that you don’t really care what I am writing right now, only that I am. You’re only here to escape the things that you might otherwise not. Maybe that’s all we ever really want. To escape. Odds are you will be back here tomorrow. Odds are I will be too.
All odds are against me. Not like I care. I really don’t even have enough faith in myself to believe i can do anything. So it’s no big deal that there’s not even a chance. It helps keep me from disappointment, actually.
Odds and ends – little tidbits of treasures – little pieces of your life, left to fall on the ground. Sometimes the pieces get walked on, sometimes you lose them . Odds and ends suggest that they are not significant but I am not sure that is the case.
odds and ends, bookshelves, trinkets. Airplanes and odds in the clouds. pebbles and ripples. Odd days with cold breezes and warm shoulders. Odds in the night and bumps of the day. Odd faces, beautiful smiles. Odd smirks, odds.
During the past few months, it seemed like the odds were never in our favor. We’d always just miss each other, your message arriving just too late to stop me from getting on that plane, me being too selfishly caught up in my own business to become involved in yours. So now that our callenders are marked and our clocks synchronized, I will see to it that we will not miss our chance again.
The odds were against us… but who cares? Look at us now! We’ve been together for over nine months and we’ve made it work long distance for a big part of those nine months and we are still madly in love. We are perfect together.
Qualified ostriches at odds with one another: here on the boulevard, there isn’t enough room. A giant neck waves, a reptilian foot strikes. There are cities everywhere, and no sand, no desert. The birds are each a specimen, but we’ve got enough of those.
the ones that take a chance are the ones who don’t mind the risk. They see all the ways that they can fail and the trek continues. Ones who see the risk first and refuse to challenge it, never reach the heights of the ones who do.
They call them The Odds. It’s a group of people who don’t fit the standard set by everyone else, either because they can’t or they don’t care to. The Odds live on the outside and some want in, others don’t. Sometimes I want out, a lot of the time I want out. I want to be an Odd.
Odds simply come and go. Odds are everywhere. The rock in your shoe, the tall quirky guy walking down the street, a sentence in a book.
Odds; they change our life. We are supposed to be living off of the edge, take every breath in hard and grab every chance we are given. Opportunities they mark us; some even leave small scars inside our soul. Everyone’s suppose to be different in every way, but in a world, so over populated, where it’s now so hard to stand out people try even harder. Oddly, we still somehow look for the same things. Someone to love, something to live by, to make our lives easier and happier. Where do we stop?
He picked up the dice carefully, taking a breath. Alright. It had been a good night so far, somehow, the odds have been in his favour since about six o’clock. He shook the dice a little, glancing to his left and giving an easy smile to the woman standing near him. “Hey little lady, how about some good luck?” He winked, holding the dice up to her. She rolled her eyes, putting her hand on her hip, but leaned in, blowing on the dice. He grinned, shaking them up some more. Alright, it was now or never. He rolled them between his hands one last time, before taking a breath and throwing them out onto the table. He just hoped lady luck was still watching over him tonight.
i’m at odds with you you know me so so well you throw me curveballs every other day and you challenge me you love me you ask so much of me even when i give you so little you tire me out and you breathe life into me you are my rock and my salvation but you frighten me you are my hope and my faith but you are a mystery you are the lamb and i trust in you even when i know not what is to come.
The odds are that I’m getting the boop outta this town are high indeed. I’m at odds with the energy drain, the same terrain, and searching for fulfillment around these local corners in vain.
The odds are against me, like standing at the craps table and choosing the white numbers on the green felt. There’s always a chance, always a possibility, but you know deep down that there is more to it than pure luck. There is an underlying truth, a greater phenomena at work. As much as you hope for the best of the best to come your way, there’s that nagging sensation that this is just not your turn. Just not your round to win. So you fold your hand, cash out, and walk away so you don’t have to face the disappointment. You just can’t roll the dice for her.
My husband asked me a few minutes ago if it was ok for him to send $300 to this poker website because if he wins he’ll win $20,000. What are the odds of him winning??????
Odds versus evens versus ups and downs and sideways gone topsy turvy.
You’re wearing on my mind, now, Alexander.
I’ll come after you, the way your men came over the walls to protect their fallen king.
I’d come for you, the way you’d gone after the ones who you perceived to have betrayed you. But then again, maybe it’s only my way of seeing things, that’s so similar to yours. Odds are…
The odds aren’t in your favor. Those were the last words that came out of his mouth. Or those were the last words I think he said before I pulled the trigger of the gun that was jammed into his mouth. Cocky bastard.
what are the odds? whos favour are they in? if i choose him then i have him for the rest of my life. but ihave to have him now and am deprived of my freedom. if i dont choose him then i have freedom but i might lose him forever. what do i do? he wants to be together forever. what if i dont know what i want yet?
what are the odds? what are the odds that we will ever be together? what were the odds that we’d even fall in love…odds were definitely against us throughout majority of the time we were together, but once we beat them now we’re home free. everything is even
The odds were against them but they were not going to let anyone stand in their way. Holding each other close they sat under the pale moonlight and listened to the sounds around them, the sounds of the life they were soon going to be leaving behind for the hopes of a better future. He smiled and rustled her hair. “I love you” he whispered softly into her ear and smiled. She smiled too and sighed happily.
Sherlock watched in schocked bemusement as John rounded on Anderson, his fist connecting squarely on the idiot’s jaw. The two had been at odds ever since Anderson had adopted Donovan’s nickname for Sherlock (“freak”). The most recent usage after Sherlock’s delighted grin of non-boredom at the triple homicide had been enough to send an already-stressed Watson over the edge.
Sherlock sidled up to him next to one of the bodies after the bout had subsided. “So how was it?”
“What, clocking Anderson?” The good doctor grinned, “Better than you can imagine.”
goldfish thrashing against the edge of the universe in their plastic bags, on your passenger seat, ignorant how seasickness pertains to motion more than simply water;
and these fish are in the kind of motion controlled by stop signs and left turn arrows, so unlike the gentle crawling from their fins, so unused to kinetics pressed upon them by an outside force;
you live too far away from the fish store, and they’ll be belly-up by morning.
the odds are , you will never find the love of ur life. but you will only have family….. family is everything and the odds are, the will be there forever
so love love love forget the odds and luv fam!!!!!!!!!!!! LOVEULOVE YU MOM DONT LISTEN TO THE BULLSHIT THE ODDS ARE BS!!!! t(-_-t) the haters and the ODDS…..
my odds of winning are slim to none i am a loser never a winner i am always the second choice not the first i will always be last the odds of winning are slim to none
The odds are not lookin good today folks. ive had a horrible day. I need to clean up . Theres lots of clutter. Need to pick up all my knick nacks and my odds and ends haha…hmm am i doing this right?
Tim felt his voice lock up in his chest, and grabbed the cape. It dropped on to the floor in a single movement, going ignored as the teen made his way across the room. Kon could sense the his breathing – he was hurt. However he leaned against the edge of the door, knowing Tim could sense him but reluctant to make any suggest gestures. He heard something strike the wall, and nosily fall on to the ground. Afterwards there were was a prolonged silence, and then footsteps. Kon froze as they approached the door, but suddenly came to stop. The door rattled against his back as it was knocked, awkwardly shaking him back on his toes. Tim sounded choked, and lacked direction his speech normally carried. “Kon,” He heard. “Kon, let’s go home.”
I was at odds with myself, trying to figure out the best possible academic option for my daughter. I’ve made the decision to go forward, what are the odds that it may have been a bad idea? We should know in a few short weeks. For now, I am hopeful. What are the odds that in 60 seconds, I am stopped from typing? It seems like I’ve been typing forever, and honestly I don’t type very fast.
why does it always have to be at odds? why can’t it just work without a mess? I just want to lay under stars with starry eyes, anywhere in the world. And gain perspectives of the oddities of life. In the peace of not knowing.
The odds of us staying together are slim,
The odds of this ending well are slim,
The odds of us staying friends are slim,
But I’m willing to take the chance<3
Odds are, he’d find out one way or another. Her father had a strange sense when something in the house was broken, even if it was an inconsequential as a fountain pen. But this was more important than a pen. This cracked item represented his childhood dreams. Was he ever a child like her? Did he break her grandfather’s valuables, only to be whipped and scolded?
Odds and ends filled her “man dror.” yes, women have those too, and hers was filled with hair dye, tools, and foreign currency, in case she ever traveled across the ocean again. Would she travel to see him again? She mused as she searched through the drawer, looking for a key that was probably lost. She remembered his smile, running her fingers through her hair. Aha! I’ve found it!
The odds of winning are astronomically small, and it would mean the world to her if she lost, but unfortunately it looks like today is her lucky day.
Chances are the odds are not in my favor. But then again maybe because they are not in my favor the odds are in fact in my favor. Hmmmmm
I can’t even win a chook raffle. Every Melbourne Cup I make a donation. I never bother with the pokies ’cause I know it’s a lost cause. The bookies at the trots give me a wry smile but think I’m a joke with my $2 each way bets, and then I never win anyway. So what made me think to back myself and make a bet on my life? Despite the riding colours & numbers & omens being right the odds were stacked against me.
Odds are that you don’t really care what I am writing right now, only that I am. You’re only here to escape the things that you might otherwise not. Maybe that’s all we ever really want. To escape. Odds are you will be back here tomorrow. Odds are I will be too.
All odds are against me. Not like I care. I really don’t even have enough faith in myself to believe i can do anything. So it’s no big deal that there’s not even a chance. It helps keep me from disappointment, actually.
single woman?
looking for love?
tired of the
bar scene
match.com
blind dates
church socials?
come to alaska!
the odds are good….
but the goods are odd!
Odds and ends – little tidbits of treasures – little pieces of your life, left to fall on the ground. Sometimes the pieces get walked on, sometimes you lose them . Odds and ends suggest that they are not significant but I am not sure that is the case.
odds and ends, bookshelves, trinkets. Airplanes and odds in the clouds. pebbles and ripples. Odd days with cold breezes and warm shoulders. Odds in the night and bumps of the day. Odd faces, beautiful smiles. Odd smirks, odds.
During the past few months, it seemed like the odds were never in our favor. We’d always just miss each other, your message arriving just too late to stop me from getting on that plane, me being too selfishly caught up in my own business to become involved in yours. So now that our callenders are marked and our clocks synchronized, I will see to it that we will not miss our chance again.
The odds were against us… but who cares? Look at us now! We’ve been together for over nine months and we’ve made it work long distance for a big part of those nine months and we are still madly in love. We are perfect together.
Qualified ostriches at odds with one another: here on the boulevard, there isn’t enough room. A giant neck waves, a reptilian foot strikes. There are cities everywhere, and no sand, no desert. The birds are each a specimen, but we’ve got enough of those.
the ones that take a chance are the ones who don’t mind the risk. They see all the ways that they can fail and the trek continues. Ones who see the risk first and refuse to challenge it, never reach the heights of the ones who do.
Time to take the climb.
They call them The Odds. It’s a group of people who don’t fit the standard set by everyone else, either because they can’t or they don’t care to. The Odds live on the outside and some want in, others don’t. Sometimes I want out, a lot of the time I want out. I want to be an Odd.
Odds simply come and go. Odds are everywhere. The rock in your shoe, the tall quirky guy walking down the street, a sentence in a book.
Odds; they change our life. We are supposed to be living off of the edge, take every breath in hard and grab every chance we are given. Opportunities they mark us; some even leave small scars inside our soul. Everyone’s suppose to be different in every way, but in a world, so over populated, where it’s now so hard to stand out people try even harder. Oddly, we still somehow look for the same things. Someone to love, something to live by, to make our lives easier and happier. Where do we stop?
He picked up the dice carefully, taking a breath. Alright. It had been a good night so far, somehow, the odds have been in his favour since about six o’clock. He shook the dice a little, glancing to his left and giving an easy smile to the woman standing near him. “Hey little lady, how about some good luck?” He winked, holding the dice up to her. She rolled her eyes, putting her hand on her hip, but leaned in, blowing on the dice. He grinned, shaking them up some more. Alright, it was now or never. He rolled them between his hands one last time, before taking a breath and throwing them out onto the table. He just hoped lady luck was still watching over him tonight.
i’m at odds with you you know me so so well you throw me curveballs every other day and you challenge me you love me you ask so much of me even when i give you so little you tire me out and you breathe life into me you are my rock and my salvation but you frighten me you are my hope and my faith but you are a mystery you are the lamb and i trust in you even when i know not what is to come.
The odds are that I’m getting the boop outta this town are high indeed. I’m at odds with the energy drain, the same terrain, and searching for fulfillment around these local corners in vain.
its okay to be odd that just makes you, you and the world diffrent and not normal
The odds are against me, like standing at the craps table and choosing the white numbers on the green felt. There’s always a chance, always a possibility, but you know deep down that there is more to it than pure luck. There is an underlying truth, a greater phenomena at work. As much as you hope for the best of the best to come your way, there’s that nagging sensation that this is just not your turn. Just not your round to win. So you fold your hand, cash out, and walk away so you don’t have to face the disappointment. You just can’t roll the dice for her.
My husband asked me a few minutes ago if it was ok for him to send $300 to this poker website because if he wins he’ll win $20,000. What are the odds of him winning??????
Odds versus evens versus ups and downs and sideways gone topsy turvy.
You’re wearing on my mind, now, Alexander.
I’ll come after you, the way your men came over the walls to protect their fallen king.
I’d come for you, the way you’d gone after the ones who you perceived to have betrayed you. But then again, maybe it’s only my way of seeing things, that’s so similar to yours. Odds are…
The odds aren’t in your favor. Those were the last words that came out of his mouth. Or those were the last words I think he said before I pulled the trigger of the gun that was jammed into his mouth. Cocky bastard.
Never tell me the odds. I make my own.
what are the odds? whos favour are they in? if i choose him then i have him for the rest of my life. but ihave to have him now and am deprived of my freedom. if i dont choose him then i have freedom but i might lose him forever. what do i do? he wants to be together forever. what if i dont know what i want yet?
what are the odds? what are the odds that we will ever be together? what were the odds that we’d even fall in love…odds were definitely against us throughout majority of the time we were together, but once we beat them now we’re home free. everything is even
The odds were against them but they were not going to let anyone stand in their way. Holding each other close they sat under the pale moonlight and listened to the sounds around them, the sounds of the life they were soon going to be leaving behind for the hopes of a better future. He smiled and rustled her hair. “I love you” he whispered softly into her ear and smiled. She smiled too and sighed happily.
The odds of me ever finding love on the Internet are not very good. But happenstance hasn’t been good to me either, Hahaha!
whats the worst thing that could happen right? my flight just got cancelled due to the company going bankrupt, what are the odds?
The odds are even.
If the odds were in my favor, I’d be happy. But am I choosing to be unhappy, or is it really fate that is making me sad?
Sherlock watched in schocked bemusement as John rounded on Anderson, his fist connecting squarely on the idiot’s jaw. The two had been at odds ever since Anderson had adopted Donovan’s nickname for Sherlock (“freak”). The most recent usage after Sherlock’s delighted grin of non-boredom at the triple homicide had been enough to send an already-stressed Watson over the edge.
Sherlock sidled up to him next to one of the bodies after the bout had subsided. “So how was it?”
“What, clocking Anderson?” The good doctor grinned, “Better than you can imagine.”
goldfish thrashing against the edge of the universe in their plastic bags, on your passenger seat, ignorant how seasickness pertains to motion more than simply water;
and these fish are in the kind of motion controlled by stop signs and left turn arrows, so unlike the gentle crawling from their fins, so unused to kinetics pressed upon them by an outside force;
you live too far away from the fish store, and they’ll be belly-up by morning.