Word: swish
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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...hasn't bet a nickel since 1989, Bruce Roberts spends a lot of time in casinos. He's rarely there alone, however. He usually has an escort walk him through--the better to ensure that he doesn't succumb to the sweet swish of the cards or the signature rattle of the dice. A onetime compulsive gambler, Roberts, 62, weathered his years of wagering better than many. He never lost his wife or his home--although he has refinanced the house nine times. "Cards and Vegas were the two biggest things in my life," he says. "I'm a helluva...
...slipped into the water at 9:13 a.m. at Abbot's Cliff, south of Dover, England, and emerged on Sangatte Beach, south of Calais, France, 15 hours and 59 minutes later. Every half hour along the way, he was thrown a nutrient drink. Every two hours, he took a swish of Tom's of Maine mouthwash to rinse the salt water out of his mouth. With the current, Brunstad estimates he swam a total of 32 miles, the last 200 yards of which he did accompanied by Alison Streeter and Marcella MacDonald, two of the strongest Channel swimmers...
...performance milestones in basketball, the "triple double" (double digits in points, rebounds and assists in a single game--he did it again three nights later). During one play, his quick crossover dribble, sans shove, sent a Portland defender veering to the sideline. Wide open, James shot a three pointer. Swish. Nothing but Mike...
...standing naked in my shower. My roommates are asleep and the suite is quiet—so quiet that turning the water on full blast would be offensive. My upturned mouth receives the slow drip of water from the showerhead and I swish it around, mixing it with the residue of Long Island ice tea. I can feel the grainy sugar slide from my scalp, down my sideburns, around my cheek, into my mouth. I’m tired, but I don’t go to sleep. I stand there, naked as the day I was born, laughing...
...help thinking the research that really counted was that into the more recent box-office charts. Hmm, look at those grosses for The Lord of the Rings. Must be some other old stuff we could turn into some sort of spectacle. So clang, clang, clang go the broadswords, swish, swish, swish go the flights of arrows, and twitch, twitch, twitch go our bottoms in the seats. There's too much realism, not enough magic in historical romance these days. What these movies really need are cheeky athletes as their heroes, not actors lugubriously acting. They also need villains briskly spewing...