You're either a goddess ... or a doormat.
If you want to be a doormat you have to lay yourself down first.
You can't always be the jokester and the doormat.
They are so filthy and bestial that no honest man would admit one into his house for a water-closet doormat.
The poor taxpayer may wipe his shoes on a $3 doormat when he goes home, but not the Navy. It is, damn the cost, full feet ahead on a doormat you would be ashamed to get muddy.
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