Blowout Quotes

There are parties and then there are huge major blowout parties. And then there are Olympian parties. If you ever get a choice go for the Olympian.

Death and disaster are at our shoulders every second of our lives, trying to get at us. Missing, a lot of the time. A lot of miles on the motorway without a front wheel blow-out. A lot of viruses that slither through our bodies without snagging. A lot of pianos that fall a minute after we've passed. Or a month, it makes no difference. So unless we're going to get down on our knees and give thanks every time disaster misses, it makes no sense to moan when it strikes.

Music is crucial. Beyond no way can I overstress this fact. Let's say you're southbound on the interstate, cruising alone in the middle lane, listening to AM radio. Up alongside comes a tractor trailer of logs or concrete pipe, a tie-down strap breaks, and the load dumps on top of your little sheetmetal ride. Crushed under a world of concrete, you're sandwiched like so much meat salad between layers of steel and glass. In that last, fast flutter of your eyelids, you looking down that long tunnel toward the bright God Light and your dead grandma walking up to hug you--do you want to be hearing another radio commercial for a mega, clearance, closeout, blow-out liquidation car-stereo sale?

In the tapestry of childhood, what stands out is not the splashy, blow-out trips to Disneyland but the common threads that run throughout and repeat: the family dinners, nature walks, reading together at bedtime, Saturday morning pancakes.

Maybe if the right person floats into your life, you have to jump in with both feet and try to make it work before the tide turns.

Sure, some find gunning down unsuspecting, innocent animals to be a real hoot. I mean, for Christ sake, they mantle the decapitated, formaldehyde-stuffed heads on the wall. Then, of course, there are the people who enjoy putting sunglasses or hats on it, even putting a blowout in its mouth as if it were an avid party animal. If it had any hands, there would surely be a plastic cup full of cheap beer in it, as well. We can’t forget that it would be named some horrendous name, such as Bill or Frank, something so plain, ordinary, and down-right ridiculous that makes me want to bitch-slap the perpetrators.

I know everything, you see,' the old voice wheedled. 'The beginning, the present, the end. Everything. You now, you see the past and the present, like other low creatures: no higher faculties than memory and perception. But dragons, my boy, have a whole different kind of mind.' He stretched his mouth in a kind of smile, no trace of pleasure in it. 'We are from the mountaintop: all time, all space. We see in one instant the passionate vision and the blowout.

Because, what does it mean, to say that things aren't going well? Compared to what? You can say: compared to how things were going a couple of hours ago, or a couple of years ago. But that's not the point. If two cars are speeding towards a brick wall with no brakes, and one car hits the wall moments before the other, you can't spend those moments saying that the second car is much better off than the first. Death and disaster are at our shoulders every second of our lives, trying to get at us. Missing, a lot of the time. A lot of miles on the motorway without a front wheel blow-out. A lot of viruses that slither through our bodies without snagging. A lot of pianos that fall a minute after we've passed. Or a month, it makes no difference. So unless we're going to get down on our knees and give thanks every time disaster misses, it makes no sense to moan when it strikes. Us, or anyone else. Because we're not comparing it with anything.

Why is it that even when you're trying your hardest not to get attached, something still sneaks up on you?

They depend on cheating. Putin and his minions cheat at the financial markets. They cheat at the Olympics. They cheat at their own fake democracy. They cheat other people out of their democracies.

You can try to avoid getting hurt six ways from Sunday, but it still might happen.

Putin and his siloviki] operate in accordance with the simple principles of Joseph Goebbels: Play on the emotions; the bigger the lie, the better; lies should be repeated many times….Unfortunately, it works.

In sum, countries that depend on oil for their livelihood eventually become among the most economically troubled, the most authoritarian, and the most conflict-ridden in the world.

There are parties, and then there are huge, major, blowout parties. And then there are Olympian parties. If you ever get a choice, go for the Olympian.

We'll make it a blowout like in the olden days." "When dinosaurs roamed the earth?" Teddy asked. "Exactly," Dad said. "When dinosaurs roamed the earth and your mom and I were young.

The world would be a better place if everyone just helped one another out when they needed it, in my opinion.

The fascists in attendance complained about being called Nazis. The outright Nazis sporting swastika tattoos said they were a little hurt by that.

We can see how many of the Euro-Atlantic countries are actually rejecting their roots, including the Christian values that constitute the basis of Western civilization. They are denying moral principles and all traditional identities: national, cultural, religious and even sexual. They are implementing policies

If you feel the need to blow out someone else's candle do it for good reason. Not because you want yours to shine brighter. By Bonnie Zackson Koury

Meaning hides in repetition: We do this every day or every week because it matters. We are connected by this thing we do together. We matter to one another. In the tapestry of childhood, what stands out is not the splashy, blow-out trip to Disneyland but the common threads that run throughout and repeat: the family dinners, nature walks, reading together at bedtime (with a hot water bottle at our feet on winter evenings), Saturday morning pancakes.

Music is crucial... Let's say you're southbound on the interstate, cruising along in the middle lane, listening to AM radio. Up alongside comes a tractor trailer of logs or concrete pipe, a tie-down strap breaks, and the load dumps on top of your little sheetmetal ride. Crushed under a world of concrete, you're sandwiched like so much meat salad between layers of steel and glass. In that last, fast flutter of your eyelids, you looking down that long tunnel toward the bright God Light and your dead grandma walking up to hug you - do you want to be hearing another radio commercial for a mega, clearance, close-out, blow-out liquidation car-stereo sale?

Everybody does stupid things in life. Some of us more than others. You think you're going to get away with it. Or one or both of you just stop thinking. But it happens. And when it does, you can keep drinking it like poison, or you can put it behind you and go make the most of the rest of your life.

I don’t need you to stay the same, Cleo,” I say. “And it’s not ‘having things in common’ that makes me love you. We’re so different, Clee. All of us. And I wouldn’t change anything about you. Like I said, you are a missing piece of my heart, and Sabrina is too. If your schedule has to change, or you start singing Barney songs to yourself, or become one of those people who post about their kids’ diaper blowouts on social media—” “You’ll put me out of my misery?” she asks quietly. “God, yes. I’ll take your phone and feed it to the sea. But I’ll also still love you. You’re family to me. You and Sab both.

Earth - it was a place where you could stop being afraid, a place where fear of suffocation was not, where fear of blowout was not, where nobody went berserk with the chokers or dreamed of poisoned air or worried about shorthorn cancer or burn blindness or meteoric dust or low-gravity muscular atrophy. A place where there was wind to blow your sweat away.

Accuracy just never really captured the expansiveness of his vision, or the arc of a good story well told.

feel the pull of its centripetal force

The oil and gas industry—left to its own devices—will mindlessly follow its own nature. It will make tons of money. It will corrode and corrupt and sabotage democratic governance. It will screw up and—in the end—fatally injure the whole freaking planet. And yes, it will also provide oil and gas along the way! And jobs for the workers who produce those things for it. The end-times battle that we’re engaged in now is to figure out how to get along without oil and gas—and we’re plugging away but still a ways off from that—and, in the meantime, commit to a whole new level of constraint and regulatory protection against this singularly destructive industry to minimize its potential harms.

Because what does it mean, to say that things aren't going well? Compared to what? You can say: compared to how things were going a couple of hours ago, or a couple of years ago. But that's not the point. If two cars are speeding towards a brick wall with no brakes, and one car hits the wall moments before the other, you can't spend those moments saying the second car is much better off than the first. Death and disaster are at our shoulders every second of our lives, trying to get at us. Missing, a lot of the time. A lot of miles on the motorway without a front wheel blow-out. A lot of viruses that slither through our bodies without snagging. A lot of pianos that fall a minute after we've passed. Or a month, it makes no difference. So unless we're going to get down on our knees and give thanks every time disaster misses, it makes no sense to moan when it strikes. Us, or anyone else. Because we're not comparing it with anything. And anyway, we're all dead, or never born, and the whole thing really is a dream There, you see. That's a funny side.

Climate disaster has put a spotlight on the need for human society to evolve beyond dependence on petroleum, but our very capacity to decide on that—or anything—remains at risk as long as the industry is still ranging like a ravenous predator on the field of democracy.

So we ran the experiment. For a period of time, in our control groups of Googlers, people who were nominated for cash awards continued to receive them. In our experimental groups, nominated winners received trips, team parties, and gifts of the same value as the cash awards they would have received. Instead of making public stock awards, we sent teams to Hawaii. Instead of smaller awards, we provided trips to health resorts, blowout team dinners, or Google TVs for the home. The result was astounding. Despite telling us they would prefer cash over experiences, the experimental group was happier. Much happier. They thought their awards were 28 percent more fun, 28 percent more memorable, and 15 percent more thoughtful. This was true whether the experience was a team trip to Disneyland (it turns out most adults are still kids on the inside) or individual vouchers to do something on their own. And they stayed happier for a longer period of time than Googlers who received money. When resurveyed five months later, the cash recipients’ levels of happiness with their awards had dropped by about 25 percent. The experimental group was even happier about the award than when they received it. The joy of money is fleeting, but memories last forever.

cliché encouragements about life are like cheap diapers. Only the gospel can persevere your faith through a spiritual blowout.

Someone said, “Backsliding is not a blowout. It’s a slow leak.

Here at the end of the world, with the climate crisis bearing down like Godzilla over downtown Tokyo, U.S. taxpayer subsidies for oil and gas drilling are now almost literally insane.

good. “Has Leia talked to you about the wedding?” Luke asked, sipping from his own mug as he leaned against the viewport facing her. “Not yet,” Mara said, making a face. “I suppose she’s going to want some big blowout High Alderaanian ceremony.” Luke grinned. “Wants, probably. Expects, no.” “Good,” Mara said. “I’d rather have something quiet and private and dignified. Mostly dignified, anyway,” she amended. “With New Republic dignitaries on one side and Karrde’s smugglers on the other, we’ll probably need a weapons check at the door.” Luke chuckled.

A trained Soviet KGB operative then heading its successor outfit, the FSB, Putin had done the sitting Russian president the memorable favor of successfully derailing the criminal investigation into the Yeltsin clan. He did so by blackmailing Russia’s prosecutor general with a fake sex tape.

The country, meanwhile, has eroded into a stultifying economic sinkhole for average Russians. “Despite receiving $1.6 trillion from oil and gas exports from 2000 to 2011, Russia was not able to build a single multi-lane highway during this time. There is still no interstate highway linking Moscow to the Far East,” Karen Dawisha wrote in her richly detailed 2014 book, Putin’s Kleptocracy.

The more the merrier,” Mom said. “We’ll make it a blowout like in the olden days.” “When dinosaurs roamed the earth?” Teddy asked. “Exactly,” Dad said. “When dinosaurs roamed the earth and your mom and I were young.

Old Glory Knock ’em dead, big guy. Go in there guns blazing, buddy. You crushed at the show. No, it was a blowout. No, a massacre. Total overkill. We tore them a new one. My son’s a beast. A lady -killer. Straight shooter, he knocked her up. A bombshell blonde. You’ll blow them away. Let’s bag the broad. Let’s spit-roast the faggot. Let’s fuck his brains out. That girl’s a grenade. It was like Nam down there. I’d still slam it though. I’d smash it good. I’m cracking up. It’s hilarious. You truly murdered. You had me dying over here Bro, for real though, I’m dead.

The Donbas was a heavily populated and productive manufacturing area, with Donetsk alone accounting for about 12 percent of Ukraine’s gross domestic product. The area nearby also accounted for something near 90 percent of Ukraine’s oil and gas production, and fracking technology promised to open new fields. Grabbing the Donbas was a twofer. Russia could cripple the teetering economy of Ukraine and scoop up a healthy supply of oil and gas. Novorossiya!

Berlusconi, in particular, was a role model for Putin according to Zygar: The Italian prime minister “had used his business empire to win elections and then used politics to further enrich his business. That made Berlusconi a natural ally of Putin’s. Neither man ever criticized or found fault with the other.

The nine millimeter? Don’t you think that’s a little much for her?” Henry asks. His happiness is all gone. Now he just looks worried. I frown at him. “Of course it’s not too much for me. I hold blow-dryers and flat irons all day long. Have you ever done a two-hour blow-out? Because I have. Without breaks.” I snort. “Trust me, I can handle it.

Soon after George W. Bush took over the White House after losing the “popular vote”—which in other countries is called the “election”—

the

Aubrey McClendon had increased his personal wealth nearly 50 percent in a single year, to $3 billion,

One hundred repetitions make one truth. The defenders of the truth can be overwhelmed by repeated lies.” No lie was too outlandish, as long as it could at least plausibly confuse the real news,

It's easy to look back on those strange days at the end of September 2003 and identify the warnings signs about Putin and Russia that American policy makers missed. But it would be unfair to them, and unfair to history, to do so without recognizing that the way things turned out was not inevitable. There really was the spore of a bright, new future in 2003, and it is certainly true that Russia itself had the resources and the capability to go in another direction. That things turned out as they did is a tragedy, a sprawling but explicable tragedy. And it is not Russia's alone.

Trump did not enjoy his own inauguration. He had hoped for a big blowout. Tom Barrack, the would-be showman—in addition to Michael Jackson’s Neverland Ranch, he had bought Miramax Pictures from Disney with the actor Rob Lowe—may have declined the chief of staff job, but, as part of his shadow involvement with his friend’s White House, he stepped up to raise the money for the inaugural and to create an event that—seemingly quite at odds with the new president’s character, and with Steve Bannon’s wish for a no-frills populist inauguration—he promised would have a “soft sensuality” and “poetic cadence.” But Trump, imploring friends to use their influence to nail some of the A-level stars who were snubbing the event, started to get angry and hurt that stars were determined to embarrass him.

Many energy workers believe we leave energetic hooks in people with whom we’ve been intimate. These can be positive hooks—such as the bond formed during a romantic first kiss—or they can be negative hooks, such as the emotional wounds that are left following a breakup or a big blowout of a fight. These energetic hooks are electromagnetic connections between people through which thoughts, emotions, and energy continue to flow back and forth.

Standard DNA is shot through the oil industry, as are Standard’s dominant traits: a penchant for pinching pennies, an eagerness to devour and expand, a mistrust and even hatred of government regulation, a vaguely delusional sense of higher calling, and a wary respect for innovation. Worth keeping these traits in mind, because they’ve gone on to shape the modern world. They still function as a character sketch—or maybe a psychological profile—of the richest, most powerful, and most destructive industry on the globe.

I pulled my suitcase out of the backseat of my bug, along with Cannoli's new travel case, a spiffy animal print pet backpack on wheels. When I first saw it, I thought maybe the dog was supposed to wear the backpack, but it turned out the person wore the backpack with the dog in it.

For the weekend before, we had had a blowout of tarts, a tart bender, tart madness- even, I dare say, a Tart-a-pa-looza, if you will forgive one final usage of the construction before we at last bury that cruelly beaten dead pop-culture horse. Tarte aux Pêches, Tarte aux Limettes, Tarte aux Poires, Tarte aux Cerises. Tarte aux Fromage Frais, both with and without Pruneaux. Tarte aux Citron et aux Amandes, Tarte aux Poires à la Bourdalue, and Tarte aux Fraises, which is not "Tart with Freshes," as the name of the Tarte aux Fromage Frais ("Tart with Fresh Cheese," of course) might suggest, but rather Tart with Strawberries, which was a fine little French lesson. (Why are strawberries, in particular, named for freshness? Why not blackberries? Or say, river trout? I love playing amateur- not to say totally ignorant- etymologist....) I made two kinds of pastry in a kitchen so hot that, even with the aid of a food processor, the butter started melting before I could get it incorporated into the dough. Which work resulted in eight tart crusts, perhaps not paragons of the form, but good enough. I made eight fillings for my eight tart crusts. I creamed butter and broke eggs and beat batter until it formed "the ribbon." I poached pears and cherries and plums in red wine.

It can be difficult for people to recognize the difference between doing something out of obligation and doing it voluntarily. So here’s a litmus test: ask yourself, “If I refused, how would the relationship change?” Similarly, ask, “If my partner refused something I wanted, how would the relationship change?” If the answer is that a refusal would cause a blowout of drama and broken china plates, then that’s a bad sign for your relationship. It suggests that your relationship is conditional—based on superficial benefits received from one another, rather than on unconditional acceptance of each other (along with each other’s problems).

It’s odd God. Time’s shoeless feet sneaked up on me and caught me by surprise. The days of youth I knew so well are gone with the blink of an eye. Innocent play and laughter, tire swings and fun, those days were too soon ended when I thought they’d only begun. Backyard friends were many Worries and fears were few. Hopes and dreams were not yet dashed. But life as it was then is through. No longer tree swings, now they’re blowouts that complicate schedules and work as I recklessly race down the freeway in search of a paycheck and perks. How I long for the years of my childhood, when life was uncluttered and free. Perhaps there’s a way to reprogram my goals and capture the me that was me.

We’re all so limited and disappointing and so, so wrong. Much of the time. Maybe even most of the time. We’re all so steeped in our own confirmation bias. We’re all so busy seeing what we expect to see. But we have our moments, too. Moments when we see that tire blowout and stop to help. Moments when we pay for the person behind us in the drive-through. Or offer up our seat to a stranger. Or compliment someone’s earrings. Or realize we were wrong. Or apologize. Sometimes we really are the best versions of ourselves. I see that about us. And I’m determined to keep seeing that about us. Because that really might be the truest thing I’ll ever know: The more good things you look for, the more you find.

My superpower is that I think everyone is my friend, and that’s the way I treated them. I brought them right down to my level and acted like we already had a bond, and we established one. It works every time, even with people who might not normally accept someone like me. I think being gay is a fun fact about me. It’s like any other bit of biographical trivia: I’m from Pennsylvania, I have five siblings, I get Brazilian blowouts, and I’m gay. They’re all fun facts. (The fun fact of being gay might influence the fun fact of getting the blowouts, but who’s to say?) When I treat being gay like that, it doesn’t keep me from talking to someone at a party, having a good time with them, or even establishing a friendship. And it doesn’t keep them from associating with me. Fun facts have a way of doing that.

You’re probably going to lose your V that night anyway, so I’ll be the last thing you’ll be thinking about.” “I wasn’t planning on having sex on prom night!” I hiss. My eyes dart over at Lucas, who is looking at me, bug-eyed. “Lara Jean…you and Kavinsky haven’t had sex yet?” I look to make sure no one’s in the hallway listening. “No, but please don’t tell anybody. Not that I’m ashamed of it or anything. I just don’t want everyone knowing my business.” “I get it, obviously, but wow,” he says, still sounding shocked. “That’s…wow.” “Why is it so wow?” I ask him, and I can feel my cheeks warming. “He’s so…hot.” I laugh. “That’s true.” “There’s a reason why having sex on prom night is a thing,” Chris says. “I mean, yes, it’s tradition, but also, everybody’s dressed up, you get to stay out all night…Most of these people will never look as good as they do on prom night, grooming-wise, and that’s sad. All these lemmings getting their manis and their pedis and their blowouts. So basic.” “Don’t you get blowouts?” Lucas says. Chris rolls her eyes. “Of course.” I say, “Then why are you judging other people for--” “Look, that’s not my point here. My point is…” She frowns. “Wait, what were we talking about?” “Blowouts, manis, lemmings?” Lucas says. “Before that.” “Sex?” I suggest. “Right! My point is, losing your virginity on prom night is a cliché, but clichés are clichés for a reason. There’s a practicality to it. You get to stay out all night, you look great, et cetera, et cetera. It just makes sense.” “I’m not having sex for the first time because it’s convenient and my hair looks good, Chris.” “Fair enough.

This preternatural love of rules almost for their own sake punctuates German finance as it does German life. As it happens, a story had just broken that a German reinsurance company called Munich Re, back in June 2007, or just before the crash, had sponsored a party for its best producers that offered not just chicken dinners and nearest-to-the-pin golf competitions but a blowout with prostitutes in a public bath. In finance, high or low, this sort of thing is of course not unusual. What was striking was how organized the German event was. The company tied white and yellow and red ribbons to the prostitutes to indicate which ones were available to which men. After each sexual encounter the prostitute received a stamp on her arm to indicate how often she had been used. The Germans didn’t just want hookers: they wanted hookers with rules.

Don't let your disagreement on the little things divide you when your agreement on the big things should bind you.  Almost every group that agrees on the big things ends up fighting about less important things and becoming enemies even though they should be bound by the big things.  This phenomenon is called the narcissism of small differences.  Take the protestants and catholics.  Though both are followers of Christ, some of them have been fighting for hundreds of years, even though many of them are unable to articulate the differences that divide them.  And most of those who can articulate the differences realize that they are insignificant relative to the big important things that should bind them together.  I once saw a close family have an irrevocable blowout at Thanksgiving dinner over who would cut the turkey.  Don't let this narcissism of small differences happen to you.

The most insidious part of the traditional marketing model is that “big blowout launch” mythology. Of course, equally seductive is the “build it and they will come” assumption that too many people associate with the Web. Both are too simple and rarely effective. Remember what Aaron Swartz realized. Users have to be pulled in. A good idea is not enough. Your customers, in fact, have to be “acquired.” But the way to do that isn’t with a bombardment. It’s with a targeted offensive in the right places aimed at the right people. Your start-up is designed to be a growth engine—and at some point early on, that engine has to be kick-started. The good news is that we have to do that only once. Because the next step isn’t about getting more attention or publicity. The endless promotional cycle of traditional marketing is not our destiny. Because once we bring our first customers in, our next move is to set about turning them into an army.

Oil extraction is much more capital-intensive than it is labor-intensive—which means it doesn’t produce a lot of lasting jobs. But in the end, it does produce big revenues when it’s sold on the global market. That sets the stage for grand-scale corruption of the political class: people who can maneuver themselves into getting a cut of that sale price of oil will find themselves quickly rich, whether or not they actually expend any effort to pump the stuff out of the ground.

There also wasn't one single bit of grass or dirt outside the airport. Even the median strip was a concrete sidewalk. Where did Atlanta's pet travelers pee? Maybe city dogs just learned to use the sidewalk. We kept walking. It looked like if we crossed the road that all the cars used to get onto the highway, we might come to a planted-up area, but we also might get killed. Finally, I just lifted Cannoli up and plopped her down on a great big ashtray built into the top of the trash barrel. "Good thing you're not a German shepherd," I said.

tennis phenoms Venus and Serena Williams have experienced losing to a male with not nearly as much notoriety as they have… in a blowout. In 1998, in a matchup against Karsten Braasch, the 203rd ranked male tennis player from Germany, Serena lost 6–1 and Venus lost 6–2. Keep in mind Serena is a 23-time Grand Champion and her sister a 7-time Grand Champion. Serena herself said, “I hit shots that would have been winners on the women’s Tour, and he got to them easily.” Is it a good time to mention at the time Braasch was smoking a pack of cigarettes a day, and smoked during changeovers the day of the match? He also admitted to playing a round of golf and drinking a few cocktails before facing the Williams sisters as well as performing like “a guy ranked 600th.” Thirteen years later, in an interview with David Letterman, Serena noted she would lose to Andy Murray 6–0 in just a matter of minutes. She went as far to say men and women’s tennis is a totally different sport. Serena told Letterman, “I love to play women’s tennis. I only want to play girls because I don’t want to be embarrassed.

I heard a choking sound behind me. When I looked back, Cannoli was hanging from the backpack harness with her hind legs circling frantically in the air. She looked like she was riding a bike just above ground level. "Cannoli," I yelled. I unhooked her and made sure she was breathing on her own. When I tried to get her back in the backpack, she whimpered. I talked to her soothingly yet firmly, then tried again. This time she started howling like I was hurting her. People turned and stared as they walked by. "What are you looking at?" I said to one couple. I suddenly felt true remorse for every time I'd stared at a parent with a toddler throwing a tantrum. I made a vow to be a better aunt to Tulia's kids if I ever made it out of this parking garage. I pleaded with Cannoli one more time.

We're the first people of the Western Hemisphere. American history doesn't start with Plymouth Rock; it starts with our ancestors. Others might call us "wetbacks," but we've had 40,000 years to dry out.

Soon after three o'clock on the afternoon of April 22nd 1973, a 35-year-old architect named Robert Maitland was driving down the high-speed exit lane of the Westway interchange in central London. Six hundred yards from the junction with the newly built spur of the M4 motorway, when the Jaguar had already passed the 70 m.p.h. speed limit, a blow-out collapsed the front nearside tyre. The exploding air reflected from the concrete parapet seemed to detonate inside Robert Maitland's skull. During the few seconds before his crash he clutched at the whiplashing spokes of the steering wheel, dazed by the impact of the chromium window pillar against his head. The car veered from side to side across the empty traffic lanes, jerking his hands like a puppet's. The shredding tyre laid a black diagonal stroke across the white marker lines that followed the long curve of the motorway embankment. Out of control, the car burst through the palisade of pinewood trestles that formed a temporary barrier along the edge of the road. Leaving the hard shoulder, the car plunged down the grass slope of the embankment. Thirty yards ahead, it came to a halt against the rusting chassis of an overturned taxi. Barely injured by this violent tangent that had grazed his life, Robert Maitland lay across his steering wheel, his jacket and trousers studded with windshield fragments like a suit of lights.

Because, what does it mean, to say that things aren't going well? Compared to what? You can say: compared to how things were going a couple of hours ago, or a couple of years ago. But that's not the point. If two cars are speeding towards a brick wall with no brakes, and one car hits the wall moments before the other, you can't spend those moments saying that the second car is much better off than the first. Death and disaster are at our shoulders every second of our lives, trying to get at us. Missing, a lot of the time. A lot of miles on the motorway without a front wheel blow-out. A lot of viruses that slither through our bodies without snagging. A lot of pianos that fall a minute after we've passed. Or a month, it makes no difference. So unless we're going to get down on our knees and give thanks every time disaster misses, it makes no sense to moan when it strikes. Us, or anyone else. Because we're not comparing it with anything.

Jim Valvano and North Carolina State actually came close to beating Dean Smith and North Carolina both times the two teams faced each other during the regular season in 1980–81. Carolina won a pair of three-point games, but—naturally—that wasn’t the way Valvano told the story in the years that followed. The way Valvano told it, Carolina won both games in blowouts. He counted on the fact that most of his listeners wouldn’t remember the two games. “So, the second time we get blown out, an old State alumnus comes up to me and he says, ‘Coach, I know you’re a Yankee and you don’t understand about tradition down here, but we cannot be losing to the Tar Heels this way.’ “I say to him, ‘No, I do get it. I know all about the tradition down here and I promise you, next season we’re going to do a lot better against them.’ “He shakes his head and says, ‘Coach, you just don’t get it. If you lose to the Tar Heels here in Reynolds [Coliseum] next season, we’re going to kill your dog.’ “Okay, I’m just a little nervous now because the guy isn’t smiling even a little bit. But I say to him, ‘Look, I have to tell you, I don’t have a dog, but I hear you loud and clear.’ “He just nods and walks away. Next morning I go to the front door to get my newspaper, and when I open the door there’s a basket on my front step. I look under the blanket and there’s the cutest little puppy you’ve ever seen in your life. There’s a note attached to the puppy’s collar. It says, ‘Don’t get too attached.’ ” The story illustrated the intensity of the Triangle rivalries among N.C. State, North Carolina, and Duke.

We passed a gun shop advertising a "Blowout Sale. While listening to a country music station,we heard a talk/song narrated by our flag. "I flew proudly at Iwo Jima and the blustering deserts of Kuwait, anywhere freedom is threatened, you will find me.

You know, white hair with a short perm, possibly some Alfred Dunner clothes decorated with birdhouses and styled in a dusty blue. That’s not Katla at all. She’s dignified. Refined, with her thick, salt-and-pepper locks that are styled in a blowout and pinned back with a jewel clip. Her

One of the basic signs that a couple has entered a downward spiral is the regular occurrence of blowouts.

It's hard to say which is more exhausting: the sheer arbitrariness of knowing that her one true love could appear out of anywhere, anytime, and change her fate in an instant (you never know who's just around the corner!), or the effortful maintenance (manicures, blowouts, bikini waxes, facials) that ensures she'll be ripe for the picking when it happens.

Q: What did Minecraft Christopher Columbus do? A: He proved the world was square.

Mella Salon Totowa, New Jersey is a NJ based hair salon specializing in extensions, balayage and a variety of hair styling and coloring services. Our skilled hair stylists can make your hair beautiful and exactly what you are looking for. We offer many different types of hair services. This includes color correction, balayage, blonding, hair extensions, haircut and blowout, updo's, wedding and special occasion hair, styling and more. No matter what your needs are, Mella Salon can help. Please contact our Passaic County hair salon to learn more about our coloring, cutting, and hair styling services. We are here to service our customers and make them feel beautiful and confident in how they look.

I'd adapted my own regimen of upkeep, trying to keep myself seventeen forever: at first begrudgingly, then with increasing panic as the years began to carve lines into my face, loosen my skin. It started with a weekly manicure... Add to that a monthly waxing appointment-- eyebrows, upper lip, underarms, bikini line, legs... When I was twenty-eight, I conceded to Botox... The lasers, I think, began at thirty, zapping the broken blood vessels around my nose, tightening the falling cheeks. The makeup went from a quick swipe of mascara to a full face of foundation, concealer, eyeliner... My air-dried hair was subjected to a weekly blowout, then a twice weekly one, which was when I finally understood the point of shower caps. They never did get me to spray-tan, though. I remain proud of that.

pink Bloons, and they would split into two pink Bloons. Supermonkey quickly switched the darts. Lasers would be no use. The monkeys all switched tactics and destroyed the Bloons. Even though they survived today, this was a sign of just how much harder their journey would become. After that unsettling battle, Jake went to sleep worrying. How will we finish our journey if it keeps on going on like this? And as he finally went to sleep, his mind was filled with thoughts.

If the end of a trend features a large candle with much higher volume than other recent bars, then watch out! You may be looking at a blowout (top or bottom). If so, the trend is likely to be over in the short term and may even reverse soon. Your chances of success in trading the “action” move are therefore lower, as a reversal is underway and the new trend is developing in the other direction.

I mean, there’s not much to it. You’re born, you’re loved, you die. Where’s the excitement, the drama? Where are the blow-out fights, the tentative makeups? The estrangements? The seething bitterness? The dysfunction?

We're all so limited and disappointing and so, so wrong. Much of the time. Maybe even most of the time. We're all so steeped in our own confirmation bias. We're all so busy seeing what we expect to see. But we have our moments, too. Moments we see that tire blowout and stop to help. Moments when we pay for the person behind us in the drive-through. Or offer up our seat to a stranger. Or compliment someone's earrings. Or realize we were wrong. Or apologize. Sometimes we really are the best versions of ourselves. I see that about us. And I'm determined to keep seeing that about us. Because that really might be the truest thing I'll ever know. The more good things you look for, the more you find.

We’re all so limited and disappointing and so, so wrong. Much of the time. Maybe even most of the time. We’re all so steeped in our own confirmation bias. We’re all so busy seeing what we expect to see. But we have our moments, too. Moments when we see that tire blowout and stop to help. Moments when we pay for the person behind us in the drive-through. Or offer up our seat to a stranger. Or compliment someone’s earrings. Or realize we were wrong. Or apologize.

Wavy and Coarse Maybe she was born with it, maybe it’s the result of a lot of styling or color processing. The cuticle is often pretty rough when it comes to this hair type, so it tends to need a little more TLC and some good products to calm down. It’s also very prone to frizz.

Cold rinses are not a myth. A blast of chilly water closes the cuticles of your hair, which is, remember, the key to achieving shiny, happy hair!

The way I see it there are three ways to maintain yourself in the present moment: Firstly, you can meditate. Secondly, you can exercise. Meditation makes people want to exercise, that is why I listed it as number one. Thirdly, and this will probably cause a lot of disagreement, is to drink alcohol. My explanation for this is based upon experience with all three. If you do not mediate or exercise and you do not drink alcohol, then it has been my experience that over time you start to slip away from the present moment, and weaken mentally. Drinking will bring you back to it temporarily. That is why people say they need a good “blowout”, they need to reset. But of course, drinking can be a dangerous addiction and cause you to do unreasonable acts, plus damage your body.

The most insidious part of the traditional marketing model is that “big blowout launch” mythology. Of course, equally seductive is the “build it and they will come” assumption that too many people associate with the Web.

The photos speak for themselves. It was more than five years ago. We were driving on the highway, me, Suzanne, and Eloise…And one of my tires blew out on a curve.” He stared lengthily at the floor, swirling the liquor in his glass. “I could tell you the date, the exact time, and what the sky looked like that day. It’s etched in here, for the rest of my life…The three of us were coming back from a weekend away in the north. It had been a long time since we’d just gotten away like that, far from this stinking city. But right after the blowout, I got distracted for a moment. I forgot to lock the car doors. And while I was checking the tire, my wife went running across the road like a madwoman, with my daughter. A car came speeding around the bend…

It was a rule of marriage: the more desperately you needed alone time with your spouse, the quicker you’d spoil it with a blowout. When

...and as I walked, I tried to see the funny side. It wasn’t easy, and I’m still not sure that I managed it properly, but it’s just something I like to do when things aren’t going well. Because what does it mean, to say that things aren’t going well? Compared to what? You can say: compared to how things were going a couple of hours ago, or a couple of years ago. But that’s not the point. If two cars are speeding towards a brick wall with no brakes, and one car hits the wall moments before the other, you can’t spend those moments saying that the second car is much better off than the first. Death and disaster are at our shoulders every second of our lives, trying to get at us. Missing, a lot of the time. A lot of miles on the motorway without a front wheel blow-out. A lot of viruses that slither through our bodies without snagging. A lot of pianos that fall a minute after we’ve passed. Or a month, it makes no difference. So unless we’re going to get down on our knees and give thanks every time disaster misses, it makes no sense to moan when it strikes. Us, or anyone else. Because we’re not comparing it with anything. And anyway, we’re all dead, or never born, and the whole thing really is a dream. There, you see. That’s a funny side.

A advancement for shaving, clipping or waxing pubic brazilianhairnew.com could possibly inspire the distribute of a pores and skin virus, French docs prompt upon Monday. Rinse the hair totally as soon as 5 minutes of making it possible for the conditioner towards effort and hard work into the hair. As soon as by yourself comprise completed software program of Brazilian keratin treatment method, location upon your hair down as normally as possible in the direction of stay away from premature curling. Employ the service of a blow dryer and flatiron generally, in particular if your hair results in being damp within the requisite 3-working day geared up interval. In the course of the ready period, by yourself can not clean your hair, yet the moment on your own resume hair washing, do not employ the service of a sodium-chloride-especially centered shampoo. All girls realize what that shaving stubble looks such as of their bikini line and basically a several gals comprise escaped ingesting a pubic hair or 2 choose up household outside of their bathing swimsuit towards their humiliation. Thus, a single of the least difficult variable in the direction of do is comprise a Brazilian wax where by all hair is taken off and there's no issue for sporting a white bathing transfer nicely with, a teeny little bathing in good shape, or watch by way of lingerie of any model. The selling prices for this treatment range depending upon where by oneself move and what services by yourself question. Tobojka stated the plan remaining practiced by means of some institutions of passing off copycat products and solutions as the unique worldwide fashion does not just pose a community physical fitness problem yet can additionally be disruptive and harmful in direction of the business office and client integrity of the enterprise and salons which are having the exclusive Brazilian Blowout model. Other than All those, we incredibly appear that our legal rights as sole distributor of Brazilian Blowout are staying violated via businesses that retain the services of distinctions of our fashion name and by means of institutions that misrepresent the process they delivery,” Tobojka pointed out. Within distinction in direction of other products and solutions upon the current market, BRAZILIAN SILK doesn't incorporate an offensive scent. 50 % your hair immediately down the heart of your mind, towards the front of your hairline in the direction of the nape of your neck. Release 1 of countless ease areas of hair and comb throughout it. Retain the services of your rat-tail comb toward 50 % a low section of hair, practically ¼ inch, in opposition to the hair at the foundation of your intellect. , over the related width considering that the element on your own parted out of your natural hair. The roadways of the village are protected in just hair drying below the warm sunshine.

Love rules without rules.

Retail Haiku [7w] Lollapalooza Liquidation Blowout Sale. Everything Must Go!

Kofia za chuma au sandarusi zenye uwezo wa kukwepesha risasi za wadunguzi na kuzuia mpaka risasi tatu za AK-47, ijapokuwa zimetengenezwa kuzuia risasi moja tu, ni miongoni mwa vitu 17 vilivyobebwa na makomandoo wa Tume ya Dunia; wakati wakitekeleza Operesheni ya Kifo au Ushindi Kamili (operesheni ndogo ya Operation Devil Cross ya Tume ya Dunia) katika Msitu wa Benson Bennett, Salina Cruz, Oaxaca, nchini Meksiko. Thamani ya vitu vya komandoo mmoja wa EAC ('Executive Action Corps') akiwa vitani ni zaidi ya dola za Kimarekani 65,000; ikiwa ni pamoja na magwanda ya jeshi ('Ghillie Suits'), kofia za chuma, miwani ya kuonea usiku (yenye uwezo wa kubinuka chini na juu), redio na mitambo ya mawasiliano migongoni mwao juu ya vizibao vya kuzuia risasi, vitibegi vya msalaba mwekundu ('Blowout kits' – katika mapaja ya miguu yao ya kulia, ndani yake kukiwa na pisto na madawa ya huduma ya kwanza), vitibegi vya kujiokolea ('Evasion Kits' – katika mapaja ya miguu yao ya kushoto, ndani yake kukiwa na visu na pesa na ramani ya Meksiko) na bunduki za masafa marefu.

Vitibegi vya makomandoo wa Tume ya Dunia (vitibegi vya msalaba mwekundu na vitibegi vya kujiokolea) vilikuwa na vifaa maridadi vya kisasa kama vile pisto, visu, madawa ya huduma ya kwanza, kalamu za Inka, ramani za Meksiko, tochi ndogo zenye mwanga mkali za Cyba-Lite, Vioo vya TOPS, vibiriti vya Firesteel, pasi za kusafiria, pesa na vipenga vyenye viwango vya sauti vya desabo 126. Kipenga chenye kiwango cha sauti cha desabo 126 kinaweza kupasua ngoma za masikio ya adui, na kuwajulisha Vijana wa Tume mwenzao alipo hivyo kwenda haraka na kumpa msaada.

Blow out all negative attitudes and live true to your dreams. Talks less and act more. Be confident and see yourself wining even before the victory comes.

It seemed like we averaged a blowout every fifteen or twenty miles. I’d jack up the car and pull off the wheel to patch the traitorous inner tube, and sometimes while I was applying the glue or manning the air pump, another tire would go bang! and expire. The roads were pretty primitive, of course, especially those red clay tracks through Georgia.

Cat was no novice, but the term “sexual satisfaction” didn’t even come close to what Wilson McKay had done to her. It was magnificent. It was mind-bending. It was addictive. Wilson was almost blind with exhaustion, but he’d never felt better in his life. Just at the point of falling asleep, he felt Cat’s backside snuggling closer into his lap. “Uh…Wilson?” “Hmmm?” “Could we do that again?” He laughed out loud. It started like a rumble down deep in his belly and came up his throat in husky ripples, until the sound, like a blowout, burst behind Cat’s head. His laughter was infectious. A little embarrassed, she frowned, but when he buried his face against the back of her neck and kept laughing, she rolled out from beneath his grasp and punched him on the shoulder. Wilson had never, in his entire life as an adult, experienced this much passion and fun at the same time. He laughed until his belly hurt, and when he tried to pull her back down to him, she wouldn’t relent. “It wasn’t that funny,” Cat muttered. “On the contrary,” Wilson said. “You just weren’t looking at the request from my point of view. I was just lying there thinking that I’d never felt so used up and satisfied in my life, and then you’re asking about a repeat performance.

Wakiwa na suti nzito za kijani na madoa meusi (‘Ghillie Suits’) kwa ajili ya kupigania porini; Vijana wa Tume walikuwa na kofia za chuma, miwani ya kuonea usiku (iliyokuwa na uwezo wa kubinuka chini na juu), redio na mitambo ya mawasiliano migongoni mwao juu ya vizibao vya kuzuia risasi, vitibegi vya msalaba mwekundu (‘Blowout Kits’ – katika mapaja ya miguu yao ya kulia, ndani yake kukiwa na pisto na madawa ya huduma ya kwanza), vitibegi vya kujiokolea (‘Evasion Kits’ – katika mapaja ya miguu yao ya kushoto, ndani yake kukiwa na visu na pesa na ramani ya Meksiko) na bunduki za masafa marefu. Kadhalika, Vijana wa Tume waliamua kuchukua Punisher – waliyoafikiana baadaye kuwa ilikuwa nzuri kuliko RPG-7, ‘Rocket Propelling Gun’, ambayo Mogens alipendekeza waitumie kubomolea Kiwanda cha Dongyang Pharmaceuticals; kwa sababu hakutaka kuleta madhara kwa watu waliokuwa hawana hatia.

If you can't handle me with a messy bun, then you don't deserve me with a fabulous blowout.

Powerful kids don’t just happen; they’re created. Give in and you won’t win. Force a blowout, then remain calm.

Calm down, calm down. Deep breath,” Colleen whispered. “It's showtime. He's a nice guy, you're a nice woman.” “Hey, Paulie,” Bryce said as he loped over to Paulie's car. “Everything okay here? Our window just broke.” Paulie inhaled audibly, her breath hitching in her throat. “Oh! Wow. Hi. Your eyes are so...so...blue.” Colleen winced. “Stop that.” “Stop that,” echoed Paulie. Bryce stopped and tilted his head. “Paulie, relax. Just...just say hi to him.” Another shaking breath. “Hi, Bryce!” she said loudly. “What are you doing here?” Bryce laughed. “I live here. How about you?” A squeaky groan came over the wire. “I threw a pebble, I guess. I think I had a blowout,” Colleen whispered. “I threw a pebble, I guess,” Paulie parroted. “I think I had a blow job.” She clapped her hands over her mouth. “Out, out! I didn't mean blow job. I never had a blow job. I meant something else. Out. I had a blowout.” “Paulie, calm down,” Colleen whispered. “Jesus.” “Jesus, calm down,” Paulie said, then wiped her forehead with her arm. “Uh...I...I have a flat tire.” “Bummer,” Bryce said, not freaked out in the least by Paulie sounding as if she were possessed by a demon. “Can you help me change it, Bryce?” Colleen asked. “Can you help me change it? Bryce? Please? Please help me.” Dear Lord. This was going to be a long afternoon.

And Billy, if it'll ease your mind any, I want you to know you've got a standing offer to come work for me when you're done with your military service. All you've got to do is say the word.' Now there was a depressing thought, although Billy could see how it might come to that, assuming best-case scenario he made it home with all his limbs and faculties in tact. He'd go to work for Whalers hauling oil-field pipe and blowout protectors all over the wind-scrappled barrens of Central Texas, busting his ass for slightly more than minimum wage and shitty benefits. 'Thank you, sir. I may be taking you up on that.

The blonde over there with perfectly straight hair? Maybe her alarm went off while you were still in dreamland, so she had an extra hour before work to get it just right. (Or maybe she went to Drybar at 7 a.m.?!) The brunette with the big bouncy curls? There’s a chance she slept in rollers last night—if she slept at all. The woman with the pink textured bob and the perfect bed head? Well, she just woke up like that (but she does do a deep conditioning treatment twice a week and has to touch up her color at least once a month).