Word: birthdaying
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Golf is another part of the Clinton cure. The President has said he wants to break 80 before his 50th birthday, and regular golfing partners say his liberal use of the mulligan -- the free shot given to duffers who botch a stroke -- probably makes that an attainable goal. The golf course is one of the few places where Clinton can quickly shut the presidency out of his mind. He does not tolerate shop talk on the links and has said he likes the game because he can play it slowly. When an aide approached him last year on a Vineyard...
...requires that Price be set free when he reaches the age of majority, and that his juvenile criminal record be sealed. "A four-time killer can get out and buy a gun. He can work in a day-care center. He can drive a bus," says Collins. "What a birthday present that is." To thwart that possibility, Collins and the victims' relatives have launched a grass-roots effort to keep Price behind bars. The group has flown planes over four states, towing banners that read: KILLER CRAIG PRICE; FREE OCT. 11, 1994, MOVING TO YOUR CITY? BEWARE. They've gathered...
...contains this paean to punk love: "Punk rock love is . . . looking at her tattoos while she's asleep. Taking showers together. Playing checkers with cigarette butts. Watching her band play . . . Both of you having the same ex-girlfriend . . . Her giving you 10 rolls of duct tape for your birthday. Her beating up skinheads. Going to the prom on her motorcycle and checking in the helmets at the coat check...
...those who would like to personally wish the President a happy birthday, send mail to the screen name Clinton PZ on AOL or email on the internet to "president@whitehouse.gov...
Since that first week of summer, I've lost tings, forgotten them places or damaged borrowed goods, sometimes a combination of the three. I borrowed a pair of pants from my new-tooth-brush-toting roommate Michael. It was his birthday and I wanted to look nice for the surprise party being thrown in his honor. At the end of the night, drunk out of my mind on Sangria, I sat on a banana. While reveling in the fact, chair dancing and smooshing it everywhere, Michael looked at me and said, "Bill, aren't those my pants you're wearing...