Word: sips
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When students sit down at the Queen’s Head pub and sip their first Harvard brews next February, they will be surrounded by wood-paneled walls and decor in the style of Memorial Hall. But members of the Loker Pub Project at first considered sketches that would have made the pub look more like a modern sushi bar than an 18th century British watering hole. The Loker Pub Project initially hired the Boston architecture firm Office dA to conduct a feasibility study last fall. But when the firm’s designers drew up conceptual sketches...
There's about a dozen motorcycles parked by the side of the road, but it's not menace that has ridden into Bulahdelah, 100 km north of Newcastle. These bikers have no interest in the liquids on offer in the bright-yellow Plough Inn. Rather, they sip tea and coffee in a sun-drenched park behind the library. And the color of some of the men's hair: that isn't blond or platinum, it's gray. None of these blokes is younger than 45; a couple are over...
...Cory walked to the side of the bar and hesitantly made my drink. It took him an eternity in Applebee's time - three or four minutes - and when he brought it to me, he didn't look me in the eye. I took a sip from the glass (which he had forgotten to salt) and tasted a cloyingly sweet dross. He had clearly added "Applebee's signature margarita mix," after all, and I couldn't stomach it. I ordered a vodka martini instead. The martini was watery, but I was too embarrassed to order a third drink, so I struggled...
...this is the good stuff," he would declare, deducing by this or that mark on the label, its color, or somebody important he'd seen drinking it, "just taste this. I can really see why people like it." So he'd collect himself against the burn and take a sip. I'd take a sip, my mother would take a sip and the glass would sit on the table. My parents knew it was expensive and highly regarded, but they couldn't seem to actually use it up. Although they offered it heartily when local people came over, it didn...
...moment Jean tires of spouting aphorisms and spitting venom; he offers her a glass of water. As an oenophile might hold a sip of claret in his mouth, testing its taste, Jean lets his mind race through the most demeaning possibilities, entertaining worst-case scenarios. He tries flattery, complimenting Gabrielle as he might a statue: "Your neck has such a lovely blush when you're nervous. Your skin reflects your every thought. I can trace your life in each blue vein. They're highly visible, even the blood pulsing through them. ... The blood in your temples appealed...