Word: slugged
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Meanwhile, there are steps you can take. For starters, don't buy more company stock if you're getting a healthy slug of it from the boss. If you exercise stock options, diversify immediately. Remember, your most valuable asset--your career--is also tied to the health of your firm. If you're over age 55, your employer may allow you to sell some of its stock held in your 401(k), so be sure to ask. In your taxable accounts, lean toward diversified mutual funds, or individual stocks in at least six industries--and avoid the one in which...
...sake of discussion, that you've struck out. Maybe it's the belly over the belt or the hair that looks like a deforestation project. Or maybe you're just unlucky. Go to a keyboard, slug in mailorderbrides.com and suddenly you're an international bon vivant. Do you try Ebony Gems of Nubia, the Polish Love Connection or Thai the Knot? You can shop for a mate by age or size. The world is yours...
...chemists B. Stanley Pons and Martin Fleischmann announced to great fanfare that they had done just that, building a bench-top fusion percolator made up of two electrodes and a slug of heavy water. But Pons and Fleischmann were vague about how their "cold fusion" reactor worked, and when other scientists tried to duplicate the pair's results, they got mostly cold water for their trouble...
...seconds when a dramatic toplight isolated Lang at center stage. Thanks to Andy Warhol, artsy for artsy's sake is now status quo. On top of that, the non-stop songs pummeled my body with their monotonous cacophony for so long that I was like a disintegrating slug that slipped on a pile of salt. My mind was screaming stop the madness, but those cries were drowned out by Lang's rawhide-cured vocals and even more subsumed by the combination of non-stop drums, three guitars and two keyboards. In a word, it was loud...
...seconds when a dramatic toplight isolated Lang at centerstage. Thanks to Andy Warhol, artsy for artsy's sake is now status quo. On top of that, the non-stop songs pummeled my body with their monotonous cacophony for so long that I was like a disintegrating slug that slipped on a pile of salt. My mind was screaming stop the madness, but those cries were drowned out by Lang's rawhide-cured vocals and even more subsumed by the combination of non-stop drums, three guitars and two keyboards. In a word, it was loud...