Word: fortyishness
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Hogarthian characters abounded in the theater. There was Abel, the flamboyant homosexual who would hoot at pulchritudinous customers; Norma the manager, who had the face of a hatchet and the demeanor of Torquemada; Katie, poor, sweet, knocked-up Katie; vivacious Gilda, a fortyish woman of Italian extraction who had been raised in Ethiopia and who now devoted herself to the music and careers of heavy metal bands; baby-faced George, an aspiring actor who claimed to have had a meeting with Steven Bochco's people; and Autumn, as delicate a ditz as ever broke a man's heart...
Newt Gingrich was taking questions at a town meeting in his suburban-Atlanta district last January, when a fortyish woman rose and identified herself as a tax lawyer. Before anyone could hiss, she allowed, "I'll go out and learn how to make cabinets for a living if you will eliminate the current tax law. It's disgraceful the way my clients use it to avoid taxation, and I hate it. And I hate the irs. The whole system is corrupt." The crowd of more than 600 erupted in applause and shouts of approval. So Gingrich asked some questions...
...regulars, mostly twentyish to fortyish," adds Ken E. Goodman, manager of the East Coast Grill. "We've got a board in the kitchen with the name of the regulars on it--our star list. We send them free food, we know where they sit, who they are. [Cambridge mayor Kenneth E. Reeves '72] is a regular customer--he digs the collard greens. We always send him a free dessert or something just to acknowledge his presence. It's such a small restaurant that I can see everybody from the kitchen...
...wish that Robert James Waller had taken up a different hobby, ham radio or UFOs maybe, instead of writing itty-bitty novels. Because after The Bridges of Madison County hit the best-seller lists, with its weepy tale of 52-year-old photographer Robert Kincaid and fortyish Iowa farm wife Francesca Johnson meeting and spending four days in forbidden aerobics, then 25 years in noble renunciation, all privacy was gone. Lush-hipped, high-mileage beauties with roses in their teeth and not too much cellulite stared at you moist-eyed from behind self-service gas pumps and supermarket Chardonnay displays...
Hutch is absent from one of the weekend's most stimulating events -- the Fishbowl, a parlor game in which a group of 28 men and 24 women assemble to ask one another sexually oriented questions. During the session, a fortyish woman wins applause with the sort of inspired reasoning one would expect here: "It's not the size of the wand," she announces in response to no question, "it's the magic...