Word: squealed
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Flashbulbs pop and school-girls squeal as Ben Affleck appears from behind a plume of smoke in the middle of the Tokyo Dome. Young fans scream, "Ben! I love you, Ben!" The actor winks at the camera, which projects his face on two screens, and the crowd of 30,000 goes wild. Then Affleck, flanked by director Michael Bay and producer Jerry Bruckheimer, hops onto the trunk of a yellow Ford Mustang convertible that wheels around the stadium. As the lights dim, color floods a screen that is triple the size of a tennis court. Japan is about to meet...
...action. We see the spare, raw, brittle Shu Qi rather than the ditzy spray-on sex doll her earlier films tended to serve up. It's a psychological drama that charts the wrenching of her separate attraction for two very different men, and she gets to cry rather than squeal. "This is the best work I have ever done," allows the actress, sipping a glass of red wine, her favored quaff, in a trendy Hong Kong bar. "I'm seeing a different self in the film. It's so real, so much more genuine...
...venerable elms and the moonlight gurgling of the Charles River sweeping under the Weeks Footbridge. They can be found on the Quad’s grassy lawn, where the scampering of squirrels is chased a second later by the barking of a dog and, just slightly later, the gleeful squeal of a small child. Spring sounds invigorate the spirit, a heartening departure from winter’s solemn silence...
...outtakes and rehearsals now available on the second disc of the Moonlight re-release. These lo-fi relics, recorded on boom box and two-track, capture the momentum that would carry into the album. Scattered pieces of “Old Pervert” shimmer with an energetic squeal still barely held at bay, fading in and out with Hitchcock’s humorously acidic ramble. The title track “Underwater Moonlight” crawls forth like the giant squid that surprises its protagonists—a little slower than the final cut, but tipsy with the same...
Soon, his hands are in leather manacles above his head, and he can do nothing as she twists his nipple. Hard. As she counts down from 10, the man's lips are pursed, failing to hold in a squeal. "He makes a lot of noise. Like a little pussy - like a little puppy dog." She releases him, and he gasps. Now it's time for the whip. "I must be careful," she says, "since he has had surgery on his back." She alternates the lashes with nuzzles from a soft fur. She steps back and takes aim, this time hitting...