Word: waits
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It’s 40 degrees outside, and your ice-cold beer can is stuck to the hand you can no longer feel. You’re not sure you can wait in that porta-potty line again, so you sneak behind a UHaul. The music is blaring, the hot chocolate is spiked, you’re surrounded by all of your best friends, and, most importantly, Harvard is crushing Yale. Harvard-Yale weekend is one of the only times when College students get together in one place and let it all hang out. Traditionally, the Ohiri Field debauch-fest...
...hopes that the College won’t wait for an epidemic of back pains before implementing this idea. You shouldn’t have to show that something is killing students before the College makes a change. Improvement happens on the margins. A better campus starts with baby steps...
...tool that vacuum-cooks foods at extremely low temperatures. I have tried to put at ease friends who are wary of the kitchen by stating that cooking is just an experiment in chemistry and physics in which the end result is something to eat. I am impatiently waiting for the Gastrovac to go into mass production. Suzanne Dokolas Athens Re "Nuclear implosion," on how traditional family structures are giving way to new, improvised setups: a patchwork of competing cultural factors is prompting European families to adopt a wider variety of living situations. In rural Catholic regions, e.g., Pope Benedict...
...strained the flow of the act, including a smattering of microphone screeching. Also, the show, slated to begin at 8 p.m., did not actually begin until after a quarter past, and the ten-minute intermission stretched out into nearly half an hour. Nonetheless, the show was well worth the wait. The second act, though—entitled the Dance Drama and performed in the style of Bharatanatyam dance—ran seamlessly from start to finish. It showcased what was obviously a tremendous amount of preparation and immense talent on the part of the dancers. The dancing of the second...
...Finally, my name is called. I go up to the front desk to see a man called Carlos and say Hi Carlos and wait. And he says Hi Belinda. Of course, he knows my name, because I am the very special 300 millionth American. Or because it's on the form in front of him, just above my picture. Then I shake the hand of a judge. I walk back to my seat. I wait for the fanfare. The marshall eventually tells me I need to leave. But he says it with a wink. Outside the courtroom there...