Word: bentely
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...just working as a waitress" story, there was the "I remember when I was just working on baggage X-ray machines" recollections. Where the regular Oscars show clips from the nominated films, the SciTech awards show clips from labs, pictures of graphs and charts, rows of scientists bent diligently over their computers. "An award like this is a rare and beautiful thing," said Colin Davidson, honored for his work on 3D modeling. "An award like this to a geek is a rare and beautiful thing squared...
...This trio of woes seems to have a common thread: Underlings snared while trying to please their bosses. It's almost like blaming the hammer instead of the carpenter for a bent nail. Speaking to the Associated Press, Feith took umbrage at descriptions that his work was "inappropriate." Said he: "The policy office has been smeared for years by allegations that its pre-Iraq-war work was somehow 'unlawful' or 'unauthorized.'" He has a point: it was the Bush Administration that chose Feith's reports over those generated by its $1 billion-a-week intelligence operation. Feith's work...
...Antique Perhaps pinching ideas from grandma's parlor, or else the movie Bedknobs and Broomsticks, Dutch master Marcel Wanders delivers a witty take on chintz. His New Antique collection for Capellini is cool yet cozy - some combination. "We can no longer fall in total awe at a tube being bent," he declares, explaining his elegantly playful antimodernism. www.capcon.it...
...cabbage onto the table. With each movement of my hands, the handcuffs dug deeper into my flesh. My whole body was racked with pain, and tears came into my eyes. But I persisted until I got quite a bit of the rice onto the table. Then I turned around, bent over the table and ate like an animal. Although the rice I managed to eat each day did make me feel stronger, I began having difficulty walking. For some reason, the handcuffs were affecting my feet. Like my hands, they felt hot and painful. I staggered about, for my feet...
...consciousness for some time, then passed out altogether. When I opened my eyes again, I was lying on the dusty floor. ''Get up! Get up!'' a man's voice was shouting. ''You are feigning death! You won't be allowed to get away with it.'' My arms were still bent to my back, but they were no longer handcuffed. The militant female guard was holding the heavy brass cuffs, all covered with congealed blood and pus. The guard probably considered them repulsive, as she was holding them gingerly by the chain with just two fingers. ''Don't think...