Word: libbed
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...furriers are using everything short of their own hides - Russian fitch, French rabbit, Algerian sand rat, Polish pony, Australian kangaroo and Wyoming buffalo. And they are handling the animal skins like fabric, tailoring them into haute couture shapes, cutting them into culottes, evening gowns and leggings. Taking even greater lib erties, the furriers are dyeing skins col ors nature never dreamed of, and in patterns taken right off the walls of an Op-Pop gallery. The fun furs are for secretaries who want the feel of fur without the financial pinch of mink and for two-mink socialites...
Marvin stalked in, put a long, cold eye on Torn, then abruptly barked an ad-lib: "NOW!" Torn was so shaken he dropped his pistol. "No matter how fast they are," analyzed Marvin, as if it were all real, "when you've got a white eye for a guy, it really gets them...
...figures on the board and by the time he got to the bottom he'd have added them all up in his head." He fascinated his speech classes with his personal, pointed anecdotes, loved to throw out a single word and demand that his students ad-lib a speech about it. Once the word "string" stumped the class-but Lyndon promptly talked 15 minutes on the topic. Then, as now, Johnson hated to lose. His Sam Houston debate team came within one point of winning the state championship in 1931 -and Lyndon vomited backstage before he could congratulate...
...turns are arm-wrenching-especially if the skier comes into one from the inside of the channel-and the fixed route may seem a bit monotonous to those accustomed to figure-eighting ad lib in the great wet open spaces. But for beginners, there are certain advantages in water skiing desert-style. It is relatively cheap; Maxwell sells three turns around the slightly more than half-mile course for 50?, versus about $15 an hour for a motorboat and driver. There is no speedboat wake to cope with. And after a spill it is only a short wade to shore...
...lion in repose. A restless creature, he roams the streets late at night looking like some shabby fugitive, in his black wrap-around leather coat and Dutch-boy cap. Three or four nights a week he drops in at a private, after-hours Soho club called the Ad Lib, where he twists along with such fellow members as the Beatles and the Rolling Stones. Nobody laughs at anybody's hair there...