Word: fifteen
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: all
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...time you hold this magazine in your hands, I will be holding something else in mine: a very serious problem. I will no longer be part of Fifteen Minutes. Or, at the very most, if I’m lucky, I’ll graduate from FM co-chair to FM legend. But everybody knows most legends are either actually or effectively dead...
Named after a measure of time, Fifteen Minutes—or FM as it’s more commonly known—is the edgier and slightly retarded stepchild of the revered Crimson, a newspaper that makes the Wall Street Journal read like literotica.com. Thankfully, FM is not quite as boring; indeed, it’s a bit like a similarly named magazine called FHM, minus the boobs and stories about dudes who get blackout and make outrageous bets that usually involve one of them getting breast implants...
...there you have it: Fifteen Minutes. While it’s not quite good enough for regular postal mail, it might just make you want to screw your doorbox back on. At the very least, FM’s relatively handsome graphics and generous dimensions make for great wrapping paper. Now all you have to do is remove a CD from the cover of a music magazine and you can check “Mom” off the Christmas list...
...isn’t afraid of falling any more. Initially, his Harvard career led him away from the disco and into the ivy-covered walls of The Harvard Crimson, where he scaled the ranks to become Associate Editor of FM, Fifteen Minutes Magazine, as a mere sophomore. This fall, Fee conceived an idea to mate his two interests, dance and FM. Their love child? The Fifteen Minutes Dance Team...
...team scatters behind the altar to slip into the newly agreed-upon outfits, short-shorts over fishnets, and matching lime-Green “Fifteen Minutes” T-shirts. Fee pops open the day’s fifth can of Diet Coke. “Coke should so be our sponsor,” he quipped, chasing a nugget of beef jerky with the aspartame-filled brew...