Word: haired
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...think that was what was keeping her alive. She had a will to see me." Yet his old exuberance was missing. The injury had prohibited him from eating a hot dog in more than two weeks, which clearly affected his confidence. But his traditional Beckham-like penchant for hair flair - last year he dyed his thinly cropped head mustard yellow to match the color of the championship belt - was also nowhere to be seen...
...woman, believed to be his wife, living with him, but recently told Bosher that she had gone back to India. "I asked him but it was long-winded,'' he says. "She used to wear a veil, but not the thing that covered her whole face, just over her hair." Bosher recalls the couple only once having visitors. "The woman [visitor] was wearing a veil," he says. Bosher says he never had any complaints about Haneef apart from a mix-up over a parking space when the doctor first arrived. "I never saw him unless he wanted something. He paid...
...made one futile job-hunting trip to Damascus. Now Jordan and Syria are beginning to turn people back from the border. Ubaid is concerned that it may be years before they can get married. "I will be an old maid, with no teeth, and he will have no hair," she jokes. The alternative, of course, still seems even worse. For lovers in Iraq, happily ever after is only possible somewhere else...
...this Paris top restaurants get five stars; and the garbage boy doesn't normally wear a toque. There's also a logical-logistical challenge. Remy, too small to do the handiwork himself, hides in the toque and directs Linguini's movements by tugging on tufts of the kid's hair. Thus does he manipulate Linguini's arms, legs, shoulders! We understand that the boy is the rat's marionette - but strings through his entire body? Whatever quibbles you may have, you would have to be an idiot of elephantine proportions not to appreciate Ratatouille's grace, humor and power...
...Iraqi men squatting shoulder to shoulder in the blasted, abandoned classroom couldn't tell at first that the American soldier addressing them was a man of real authority. He was slight, taut, with sandy hair and a thin beak of a nose. He didn't sound like a big shot; he didn't bark in a commanding voice. "How many of you are going to make it?" he asked, in sketchy Arabic. Several of the men - Iraqi police recruits - looked up, saw the four stars on General David Petraeus' cap and shifted nervously, unsure of what he meant. His interpreter...