Word: slicking
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...four bites out of it. I had never seen anything like it." Since then Klimley has analyzed more than 130 videotaped white-shark attacks. All seem to follow a pattern. The powerful first bite usually takes place underwater, and the first sign of an attack is often a blood slick on the surface. Within 20 min., a sea lion or seal pops to the surface with a big chunk taken out of it. Then the shark appears, seizes the carcass and finishes...
...discussing. This is not to say that frequent flashbacks to the bad old days--when the pair lived, squabbling and self-obsessed, in a rundown flat above a Chinese takeout restaurant--are finally any more conclusive. Or that the girls' chance encounters with figures out of that past--a slick, careless lover they once shared; a weird, enormous former roommate now lost to schizophrenia (and played with great and tender ferocity by Mark Benton)--are particularly illuminating...
After the media saturation and slick marketing of the largely untalented Spice Girls, I was pleasantly surprised by your article on the touring female music festival Lilith Fair [MUSIC, July 21]. These performers previously went almost unnoticed because they chose to make music that meant something to them, rather than attempt to become the next Big Thing...
...unfortunately, never break out of their papier-mache molds. One wishes that Mohr, a former stand-up comedian who played Tom Cruise's slick-talking, backstabbing nemesis in "Jerry Maguire," could have lent a little more comic verve to his appealing but bland Mr. Nice Guy. Bacon merely drifts in and out as the perverse Mr. Wrong in one of his most forgettable roles. If anything, the movie could have used more of the potential spice of the two supporting females: there isn't nearly enough of Illeana Douglas or Olympia Dukakis as Kate's anxious, marriage-obsessed mother...
...glance. Here is a Windstar--or is it a Previa? a Caravan?--parked in the circular drive of an Alpine castle, glistening after a spring shower. The image is idiotic: American marketing at its most cynical. But Husband lingers over the sport-utility brochures. The pages are heavy and slick, almost sensuous, like the leaves of some edible exotic plant. And the pictures! They are familiar to him from the thousands of commercials he saw during the N.B.A. finals. The Jeep Cherokee roars up the perilous incline of a desert mountain. Fearlessly the Land Rover grinds its way deep into...