Word: itchingly
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Meetic has clearly scratched an itch. More than 30 million people now have a free personal profile on one of its sites. Since the firm hit the dating scene in 2002, it's picked up around 650,000 paying subscribers in 15 countries, and is the leading dating site in almost all of them. Last year, Meetic earned $36 million before taxes on revenues of $166 million - almost exclusively from subscription fees that range from $47 to $85 a month...
Documentary films are mediated too, by the filmmaker's natural desire to find a coherent narrative, to lure you into the stories of the people onscreen--to (it's not a bad word) entertain. Nowhere is this itch to Hollywoodize reality clearer than in American Teen, director Nanette Burstein's account of one year, 2005--06, in the lives of four high school seniors in Warsaw, Ind. It's the rare documentary that could score at the box office, and not just because Paramount Vantage, its distributor, is pushing it hard. You're likely to have an absorbing, unsettling time...
Blame the homecomings on boredom, nostalgia or an indomitable drive to compete ("I got the itch," Favre reportedly told teammate Al Harris). But not all comebacks are success stories. Just ask Bjorn Borg, who left tennis in 1983 and un-retired in 1991, wooden racquet in hand. He didn't win a single match that year...
...leaving for a trip to Maine with my roommates the next morning, and was terrified that my hives would return to leave their telltale red tracks. When my alarm sounded at 7 a.m., I heard my roommates scurrying to get their things packed, and then I noticed the burning itch on my arms. My hives taunted me with their cruelly bad timing, and only seemed to feed on my fear of them. I got in the car and fiercely wished them away, becoming more and more frustrated by their resistance...
...When we arrived at the house in Maine, my roommate noticed that my cheeks looked unusually blotchy. They began to itch, and I ran to a mirror to discover that the hives had spread to my horrified face. I wanted to cry, but the rash didn’t actually hurt that much. It was the embarrassment, even shame, I felt at being so visibly and conspicuously out of control that upset me. My face glowed angrily with a rash that I couldn’t make go away, and even though I was surrounded by my closest friends...