Word: beau
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...help conjuring up severed rabbits' heads at birthday parties, a dithering hard-boiled hit man, and the goddess Venus working as an office temp. Thrown into the mix alongside a clutch of tragically distant fathers is a string of treacherous girlfriends - one of whom demands her beau deliver her the heart of his mother, to prove his love...
...didn't want subtlety, he wanted salesmanship, and Betty has the pertest peddler around. He wrote more than a dozen songs for her, all to be found in The Complete Lyrics of Frank Loesser . They started with the 1943 "Murder, He Says," about a girl's jive-talking beau; during the number she jitterbugs, seesaws her shoulders, puts her hand to her tummy and sashays sexily - all stops out for Betty...
...outlive their individual leaders and partisans, the past is never dead. It's not even past. That's especially evident when those parties look to the future. As Republicans and Democrats focus on November 2008, it's clear each of them yearns to nominate a second coming of its beau ideal, the figure it has most admired in recent decades. For Republicans, that's Ronald Reagan. For Democrats, it's Robert Kennedy...
...real boy who's killed in a freak accident. (Helpful hint, kids: Don't play with scissors during an electrical storm.) And the inventor doesn't construct a new boy; rather he strives to revive the dead one. In another tweak, the local teenagers, led by Kim's dastard beau, are responsible for the Inventor's death (though Bourne doesn't pursue this line to its logical confrontation). There's also a severe reduction in the importance of Kim's mother, and a promotion of Joyce, the vamp in toreador pants...
...Unfortunately, only Advocats, freshmen, and about four Crimson stragglers showed up to rage. Can’t say we’re surprised...Everyone’s favorite sex blogger made the mistake of posting on her recent sex slave’s wall, only to have her newfound beau turn around and deny all smooching charges on his own and his friends’ walls. She sure picked a mature one...At the Pudding after party Friday night, a drunk make-out turned into a standing fuck, replete with upturned tables and flying Solo cups of Gordon?...