Word: vomitting
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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...longer periods of time, said Joseph Griffin, Director of Harvard’s Department of Environmental Health and Safety. Rosenthal emphasized that the symptoms reflect a viral, not bacterial, infection—ruling out food poisoning as a cause of sickness. After a few students began suffering from nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea last Saturday night, Cabot House Allston Burr Resident Dean Stephen H. Kargere, along with university health and sanitation services, sent an e-mail to Cabot students reinforcing the importance of washing their hands before eating and after using the restroom. He also advised them...
...English Friday night. Two guys with broad smiles and droopy eyes stagger into the road, arms outstretched to embrace any lucky target. Gaggles of young women bounce in and out of the 19 bars that line the main stretch, their skyscraper heels giving good clearance over puddles of vomit. Huddled around a cash machine, glammed up in gold-sequined headbands and lace gloves, Laura and her friends are gearing up for a big night. Are they going to get drunk? "Yeah!" they cry in unison, laughing. "Sums up Croydon, don't it? That's what...
...reemphasizes the harshness of the graphic all-white sets. The set design, also by Burkle, is so strikingly minimalist that the walls seem like blank canvases. In fact, when Berenger’s friend Jean (Michael B. Hoagland ’07) throws up during his sickness, the green vomit becomes art as it drips down the wall in abstract expressionistic splendor...
...flashbacks from the highlights (can you really call a murder a “highlight,” though?) of last season. When the scene started, I thought it was going to be really hokey, but it was a little bit…dare I say it?...touching. (Insert vomit here.) Oh Mischa, the things you do to me!The past three episodes have each had a defining dramatic moment of this kind: Marissa’s nightmare about the shooting; Ryan’s punching-bag fiasco; and this kaleidoscopic flashback. Even though this one was effective...
Before the spirit moved her again, before she returned to the toilet, retching afresh—before I went soberly home to throw my vomit-encrusted shoes in the trash—I thought I saw something looking back at me out of the water. It was my 14-year-old face, dimpled and pimpled and hopeful. I could almost make it out. It’s just that, you know, there was that cloud of orange vomit...