Word: bleedingly
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...functionality of a real word processor. You can even buy a supply of paper clips to talk to when you need help. Can't find a pencil sharpener? Jab yourself with a sharp stick and write that Sophomore essay in your own blood. Looks like Microsoft is going to bleed you dry eventually anyway...
...that almost resulted in my gagging on a popcorn kernel. In fourth grade, when every other girl in my class aspired to be Paula Abdul, I wanted to be Scarlett O'Hara. During this formative time, I underwent a mercifully brief period where I let Scarlett's Georgian accent bleed into my own speech. I got over it, thank God, about the same time I quit cuffing my jeans and threw out my jelly shoes. Here's a secret confession, though: I still want to be Scarlett O'Hara...
...that almost resulted in my gagging on a popcorn kernel. In fourth grade, when every other girl in my class aspired to be Paula Abdul, I wanted to be Scarlett O'Hara. During this formative time, I underwent a mercifully brief period where I let Scarlett's Georgian accent bleed into my own speech. I got over it, thank God, about the same time I quit cuffing my jeans and threw out my jelly shoes. Here's a secret confession, though: I still want to be Scarlett O'Hara...
Music mixes with memory. As we think back over the 20th century, every decade has a melody, a rhythm, a sound track. The years and the sounds bleed together as we scan through them in our recollections, a car radio searching for a clear station. The century starts off blue: Robert Johnson selling his soul to the devil at the crossroads. Then the jazz age: Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington and, later on, Benny Goodman and "Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees." Midcentury, things start to rock with Chuck Berry, "Wop-bop-a-loo-bop a-lop bam boom...
...require, but "Back Up Off the Wall" had a beat bordering on commercial, and it was still slammin', starting with the hook: "Mad 'cause the life I lead / twice your speed / brown-skinned mami that's the wife I need / light that weed / front, n*gga might just bleed / trying to ball with y'all but I might just flee." Not exactly the moralistic Brand Nubian of yesteryear, but how hot is the triple-syllable rhyme scheme...