My handwriting was so good I won a prize, a cardboard cut-out of a farmyard; my mother threw it away when we moved.
The Zodiac letters from 1978 on were driven to Sacramento in a cardboard box, and these letters have never been refrigerated, which, for letters going back – what? – 30 years almost is a must for DNA.
Gradually, we fell in love with camper-vanning. It’s a strange business to begin with – rather like driving a large, rather flimsy cardboard box. It’s ugly, the suspension’s appalling, you rattle around like pebbles in a tin, and you can’t hear yourself speak above the engine.
If you could still see yourself living in a cardboard box with somebody with no money then that is love you know, it’s what’s important.
My study is a converted garage which is largely lined with bookshelves and cardboard boxes filled with manuscripts of my film scripts, plays and books.
My breakdancing crew used to go to the mall and squat a piece of cardboard there; we had our jam box, and I’d spin on my head and make about forty bucks a day, which was pretty good back then. I was only 14 years old, so I would chase the girls around the mall and eat some pizza and have some change left over.
My father bought me a little cardboard accordion, and when I was three I got this little machine.
In bad weather, I spent hours drawing action figures on paper, coloring them, backing them on cardboard, then cutting them out and creating whole stories around their lives.
I might be living in a cardboard box under a freeway overpass, homeless, but I won’t be silenced.
I used to cut guitars out of a piece of cardboard to copy the Strat look. I used a backwards tennis racket for a while and graduated to the cardboard cutout.
I used to cut guitars out of a piece of cardboard to copy the Strat look. I used a backwards tennis racket for a while and graduated to the cardboard cutout.
I live in Vegas, and I see people by the side of the road with cardboard signs who seem like they might have tried that spending their way out of debt thing.
I’m really familiar with what Cardboard’s doing; it’s not a novel concept. Cardboard is in many ways a direct ripoff of FOV2GO, a project I helped work on when I was at ICT, and it was fairly well known in the academic VR community.
Fear of carbs, of gluten, of everything – we’ve distanced ourselves from the beauty of food, the art of it. It makes me sad when people say, ‘Oh, I don’t eat gluten. I don’t eat cheese. I don’t eat this. So I eat cardboard.’
For many impoverished people, living under a tarp or in a cardboard box is a way of life.
The Cat Dancer is a 30-inch piece of wire with some little cardboard cylinders on the end. My cats go crazy for it. I stuck it on the wall with the adhesive mount, but I ended up taking it off so I could hold it and play directly with my cats.
I don’t have a desire to make films that have cardboard cut-out or Hollywood stand-in replicas of humans. I need the real deal.
People in south Manchester overwhelming want to be able to recycle more than they currently can – especially cardboard and plastics – and want more frequent and accessible collections, particularly for those living in flats.
If you want, you can have a coffin made out of cardboard or wicker or papier mache. There’s one like a seed pod, or you could buy one that doubles as both a bookcase and a coffin. During your life, you stand it in your living room, and then after you die, the books are taken out and your body put in their place and the whole thing buried.
Most of my films have a lot of character development and exploration, whereas in most horror movies the characters are just cardboard.
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