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...Miserables. While the fame issue was much less prominent as a star of musical theater, Tom still found opportunities to expose himself to the public eye, especially when he posed nude (with all the appropriate places covered) for a trendy British magazine. He went on to play the Rum Tum Tugger in Cats, a role that was not as musically satisfying as his previous one, but offered a lot more flexibility. “I could really make it my own,” he relates. After ten months of prancing around in a leotard and waving his paws...

Author: By Ishani Ganguli, CRIMSON STAFF WRITER | Title: Man, Not a Boy | 9/27/2001 | See Source »

...Seafood Grill, a music showcase with the requisite life-size shark mounted on an ocean-colored wall. It was at Shuckums, on Sept. 8, that Mohamed Atta and Marwan Al-Shehhi did some pre-mass murder tippling. Atta drank vodka and orange juice, while Al-Shehhi preferred rum and cokes, five drinks apiece. "They were wasted," the bartender recalled, and Atta objected to the $48 bill. Tony Amos, the manager, asked if they were short the cash. "No," said Atta. "I have plenty of money. I'm a pilot." And he hauled a wad of $50 and $100 bills from...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: The New Breed of Terrorist | 9/24/2001 | See Source »

...Berthillon still personally selects the grapes for his grape-rum ice cream. He also ensures that none of the chocolate ingredients has been scorched during preparation and, to limit nitrate levels, he uses only mineral water. Dairy products in Berthillon ice cream were supplied by the same Norman farmer for decades, and when the best fruit on offer in Paris is deemed not good enough, Berthillon will have mandarin oranges flown in from Sicily and fresh wild strawberries from Málaga...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Artisans | 8/20/2001 | See Source »

...have Gatorade, some crackers and coconut rum. When that runs out, I have my roommate...

Author: By Victoria C. Hallett, CRIMSON STAFF WRITER | Title: Roving Reporter | 3/9/2001 | See Source »

...honest: When it comes to carousing and suckling at the teat of demon rum, I always imagined myself to be, well, a bit of a lightweight. Did I enjoy a nip of Jack Daniels, a snifter of sherry or a tall glass of Spaten from time to time? Sure. But did I binge drink? Surely not. Surely that was reserved for the hardier types, the Spee-men and Sigma Chi brothers, the strapping rowers and the bosomy Grille girls...

Author: By Ross G. Douthat, | Title: A Toast to Binge Drinking | 2/26/2001 | See Source »

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