Word: stomach
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...Georgia had renewed his tan in Georgia's sun. His ten-day vacation on isolated Sapelo Island had been so relaxing that he wants to make it a regular refreshment stand. His jogs along the Atlantic had tightened a stomach already impressively taut for a man of 54. He had even cultivated a new hair style by shifting his part from right to left. And, as Jimmy Carter returned to the White House last week, he was in an upbeat mood, telling intimates that the nation's political climate was finally turning in his favor. Said...
...University warden named Theresa Nanziri, was eight months pregnant when she was brought to the SRB. After a day of interrogation, claims Kisuule-Minge, she and her husband were taken down to the reception area. A Nubian private known as Simba stepped forward and plunged a knife into her stomach. As she screamed and fell back, he slashed her open while her terrified husband ran in panic for the door. He was shot...
Last week, just before the film's premiere, Allen sat on a comfortably worn couch with his back to the view. He had caught the flu and was huddling over a bowl of chicken soup ("the mythological panacea," as he called it). Between his upset stomach and the details of Manhattan's opening, Allen's normal routine had been disrupted. When he is not shooting a film, Allen usually gets up at 7, writes all day, and then goes out for a late dinner at Elaine's with a few pals (Actor Michael Murphy, Saturday Night Live Staff Producer Jean...
...ceremonies in Los Angeles' Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, John Wayne himself came on. The old martial role model, looking gaunt but energetic, his stomach and one lung gone to cancer, presented the Oscar for Best Picture of 1978. It went to another Viet Nam movie, The Deer Hunter, Director Michael Cimino's story of young Ukrainian-American steelworkers from Clairton, Pa., who play pool, drink beer, watch football on TV, get drunk at a wedding, hunt deer and then go off to fight the war in 1972. It was the fifth Oscar for The Deer Hunter that night...
Midnight, when we broke up, found me first out the door. I couldn't stomach the prospect of the writer and Dear Friend making their way to me with half-beatific smiles. They would have clasped my hands and nodded benevolently, gestures all too familiar, as they kindly wished me the best of luck with my writing...