Nitro Quotes

Directing teenage actors is like juggling jars of nitro-glycerine: exhilarating and dangerous.

I...can’t believe you have kittens.” I wiggled my fingers and the little guy strained to reach them. “What’re their names?” Roth snorted. “That one is Fury. The white one is Nitro and the black one is named Thor.” “What? You called these cuties something like that, but named a giant snake Bambi?” He bent forward, placing a kiss on my shoulder. It was so fast I wasn’t sure he’d actually done it. “There’s sweetness in evil,” he said. “And remember, looks can be deceiving.

I glance up at the security camera staring us down. I wave, if you can call flipping Rex off waving. Nitro would be proud.

Everyone needs a home, and you’re mine. It’s not this house. It’s not a building. It’s wherever you are. That’s my home.

There’s some great early stories of him in his sales days. When American Express, for example, wouldn’t buy advertising on TBS because they were ‘too downscale’…and ‘too this, too that’…Ted pulls out an American Express card, slides it across the table and says, ‘I use your product, but you don’t use mine. I have a real problem with that’. “They were saying our audience was downscale, and he’s like, ‘I watch TBS, and I’m worth half a billion dollars, pal!’ He rejected people’s snobbery of ‘it’s gotta be this fancy programming’. He was like ‘look, I’m doing a ‘3’ rating at 6:05, so screw you’.

There was nothing wrong with being able to handle things herself. Nothing wrong with wanting to.And she did appreciate Brian's help. And she didn't need caffeine. "I like caffeine," she grumbled. "I enjoy it, and that's entirely different from needing it.Entirely.I could give it up anytime I wanted, and I'd barely miss it." Annoyed,she snagged the soft drink she'd left on a shelf and guzzled. All right,so maybe she would miss it. But only beause she liked the taste. It wasn't like a craving or an addiction or... She couldn't say why Brian popped into her head just then.She was certain if he'd seen her staring in a kind of horror at a soft drink bottle, he'd have been amused.It was debatable what his reaction would be if he'd realized she wasn't actually seeing the bottle, but his face. No,that wasn't a need, either, she thought quickly. She did not need Brian Donnelly. It was attraction.Affection-a cautious kind of affection.He was a man who interested her, and whom she admired in many ways. But it wasn't as if she needed... "Oh God." It had to be overreaction, she decided, and set the bottle aside as carefully as she would have a container of nitro. What she was going through was something as simple as overromanticizing an affair. That would be natural enough, she told herself, particularly sice this was her first. She didn't want to be in love with him. She began wielding the pitchfork vigorously now, as if to sweat out a fever.She didn't choose to be in love with him. That was even more important.When her hands trembled she ignored them and worked harder still. By the time her mother joined her, Keeley had herself under control enough to casually ask Adelia to work in the office while she exervised Sam. Keeley Grant had never run from a problem in her life,and she wasn't about to start now.She saddled her mount,then rode off to clear her head before she dealt with the problem at hand.

Without the underlying emotion accompanying a match, Bischoff ruminated, the result was something much less inspiring - two guys in their underwear fighting for ambiguous reasons. “They were basically telling me that I had to abandon the very formula that had not only worked for us, but that our competition had adapted,” he says. “I was then told to have my scripts approved a month in advance.

Another misnomer concerned the relationship between audience size and advertising rates. One common interpretation propounded that programs with higher ratings produced higher revenues - a logical fallacy insofar as it flagrantly disregarded crucial influencing factors (notably, content and demographics). In 1994, to cite one illustrative example, Seinfeld commanded $390,000 for a 30-second spot - $40,000 more than Home Improvement - despite attracting fewer overall viewers. Its ability to draw more young viewers (often defined as the ‘highly desirable’ 18-49 demographic) instead made all the difference. In sum, as industry experts realized, advertisers bought ‘demos’ before they did households.

Twas the night before Christmas and in SICU All the patients were stirring, the nurses were, too. Some Levophed hung from an IMED with care In hopes that a blood pressure soon would be there. One patient was resting all snug in his bed While visions—from Versed—danced in his head. I, in my scrubs, with flowsheet in hand, Had just settled down to chart the care plan. Then from room 17 there arose such a clatter We sprang from the station to see what was the matter. Away to the bedside we flew like a flash, Saved the man from falling, with restraints from the stash. “Do you know where you are?” one nurse asked while tying; “Of course! I’m in France in a jail, and I’m dying!” Then what to my wondering eyes should appear? But a heart rate of 50, the alarm in my ear. The patient’s face paled, his skin became slick And he said in a moment, “I’m going to be sick!” Someone found the Inapsine and injected a port, Then ran for a basin, as if it were sport. His heart rhythm quieted back to a sinus, We soothed him and calmed him with old-fashioned kindness. And then in a twinkling we hear from room 11 First a plea for assistance, then a swearing to heaven. As I drew in my breath and was turning around, Through the unit I hurried to respond to the sound. “This one’s having chest pain,” the nurse said and then She gave her some nitro, then morphine and when She showed not relief from IV analgesia Her breathing was failing: time to call anesthesia. “Page Dr. Wilson, or May, or Banoub! Get Dr. Epperson! She ought to be tubed!” While the unit clerk paged them, the monitor showed V-tach and low pressure with no pulse: “Call a code!” More rapid than eagles, the code team they came. The leader took charge and he called drugs by name: “Now epi! Now lido! Some bicarb and mag! You shock and you chart it! You push med! You bag!” And so to the crash cart, the nurses we flew With a handful of meds, and some dopamine, too! From the head of the bed, the doc gave his call: “Resume CPR!” So we worked one and all. Then Doc said no more, but went straight to his work, Intubated the patient, then turned with a jerk. While placing his fingers aside of her nose, And giving a nod, hooked the vent to the hose. The team placed an art-line and a right triple-lumen. And when they were through, she scarcely looked human: When the patient was stable, the doc gave a whistle. A progress note added as he wrote his epistle. But I heard him exclaim ere he strode out of sight, “Merry Christmas to all! But no more codes for tonight!” Jamie L. Beeley Submitted by Nell Britton

Any questions?” Crash Nitro said calmly. A daredevil raised her hand. “Scorpions have eight legs,” she said. “That’s not a question!” she barked. “Bring me that boy now!” “Catch the boy…get a toy!” the daredevils chanted. “Catch the boy…get a toy!

You’ve got plans…,” she said softly, “…and I’ve got plans.” Crash Nitro put the photo back in her pocket. “To take your plans,” she added.

If Russo was managing the local Pizza Hut,” writer R.D. Reynolds memorably observed, “you’d order a pizza and they’d deliver a newspaper.

If Russo was managing the local Pizza Hut,” writer R.D. Reynolds memorably observed, “you’d order a pizza and they’d deliver a newspaper. Sure, it was a surprise, but it didn’t make much sense, nor did you want to order from them again. But it sure fooled you, didn’t it?

There were moments in your life that brought you to your knees. Moments that punched the absolute fuck out of you. I was having one of those moments. I thought life had already handed me my heart on a platter. Bleeding and bruised. Turned out life wasn’t done with me yet. Bleeding and bruised wasn’t enough.

Dwelling in the shit of life wasn’t productive. Either you checked out or you checked in. This life isn't for the weak,

Fuck, she was feisty. I wasn’t a fan of attitude off a woman, but I couldn’t deny my dick was hard as hell. I’d have to fuck that feisty out of her and I doubted she’d surrender easily, if at all.

God, he could be a prick. A moody, stubborn prick who I would avoid if I knew what was good for me. It seemed I never quite learnt my lessons very well in life.

I wanted to know if she fucked the way she seemed to live—full of passion and fierce energy.

His touch fucked with my ability to concentrate even more than his presence already had. My lower belly was in a state of what-the-fuck-are-you-doing? My skin was in a state of “holy fucking hell let him touch every part of you” and my vagina had pulled out the fucking welcome mat.

His body pressed against mine while he deepened the kiss. Tongues collided and breath was stolen. My senses were consumed completely by this man who bewildered me with his complexity. One minute I hated him, the next I wanted to know every damn thing about him. I wanted to slap him, kiss him, yell at him, comfort him, understand him, tell him to fuck off. But in that moment all I wanted to do was kiss him forever.

Ugh, why don’t all men pierce their bloody dicks? I think it could bring about world peace. Like, seriously. Could you imagine all the satisfied, happy women wandering the earth after having sex with big, fat, pierced dicks? World peace, I tell ya.

I wanted to know what made her so damn fearless and so fucking fragile all at the same time.

You a good cook, Vegas?” I gripped the back of his neck. “You better believe it. You won’t know whether you want me to open my legs or my cookbook.

My advice to you, brother, is to accept your fate for what it is and then lay the fuck down and let that pussy whip you. No use fighting love.

War shows us who we are. It drags us to our deepest depths and reveals just what we would do to survive. Good and bad.

We were a storm and serenity all rolled into one. But it was the storm we both needed the most.

Ben-Hur’ ☑ ‘Pick me up’ ☑ ‘Heisenburg maneuver’ ☑ ‘Heavy ordinance’ X 50 ☑ ‘Explosion dampening’ X 20 ☑ ‘Sleepyhead’ ☑ ‘That’s my car’ ☑ ‘Nitro’ ☑ ‘Viking funeral’ ☑ ‘Jesus take the wheel’ ☑

European perfumery started in earnest around the turn of the twentieth century, and developed apace with the discovery of aroma chemicals: coumarin, vanillin, cyclamen aldehyde, the great nitro musks. The Great War left industry and cities largely intact and killed countless males. Many factors then conspired to make the period 1918-1939 the golden age of mass perfumery: working women vying for the remaining men, cheap aroma chemicals, cheap labor to harvest the naturals, flourishing visual arts and music, the obsolescence of prewar bourgeois dignity, replaced by irreverence and optimism. The WWII destroyed the great engine of European chemistry (Germany). The tail end of German chemistry on the Rhine lay in the neutral Switzerland and was untouched, which is wy today two of the biggest perfumery houses in the world (Firmenich and Givaudan) are Swiss. Postwar France stank. In 1951, six years after the Liberation, only one household in fifteen had an internal bathroom. The Paris Metro at rush hour was famous for its unwashed stench. Given cost constraints, French perfumes in those years ('50) had an air de famille, a perfumey feel based on then-cheap drydown materials like sandalwood oil and salicylate esters. Being able to smell someone's fragrance was a sign of intimacy. When a perfume left a trail (called sillage) it was remarked upon, usually unfavourably. It is a strange coincidence, or perhaps a hint of the existence of God, that skin melanin is a polymer spontaneously formed from phenols, and that the perfumery materials that defined American perfumery were also in good part phenols.

What are you talking about Capt., what did they find out?” “Steve your fridge was full of Cyanide powder in everything they could put it in. As well it’s a good thing you ordered all new tires. They removed a bomb from your trunk. It could have injured you seriously or killed you. You fellas have a few angry enemies. Jordon, your place wasn’t much safer, again Cyanide in your foods, and Nitro tucked into your couch. You guys had the CSI’s and the Bomb squads very busy.

Chemically similar to picric acid, trinitrotoluene, known as TNT from the initials of tri, nitro, and toluene, was better suited for munitions.

One hundred percent.” Garrett repositioned his hat. It had our Nitro logo that used hop cones in place of the elements of an atom.

Two miles above Oahu, Lieutenant Shojiro Kondo, the Nakajima bombardier for lead pilot Tadashi Kusumi, found a target and commenced release of his payload. It contained 132 solid pounds of toxic, pale yellow cast crystals that formed the explosive, TriNitroAnisole. Starting its descent, the warhead picked up speed and moved with purpose—averaging over 377 feet per second. Its kinetic energy increased, as it sought the target. Within 26 seconds, it would be found.

The bomb’s load of packed TriNitroAnisole—a “moderate” explosive in and of itself, was equivalent to around 107 sticks of dynamite. But when combined with 1.3 million pounds of explosive black powder, and over a million gallons of Bunker-C diesel fuel and aviation gasoline, the explosive power was equal to more than 525 tons of TNT. At

And so we might find on his shelf some vitriol of Cyprus (copper sulfate), white vitriol (zinc sulfate), aqua regia (nitro-hydrochloric acid), arsenic, saltpeter (potassium nitrate), alum of Yemen (aluminium sulphate), burning water (alcohol), brimstone (sulfur) or sal ammoniac (ammonium chloride). We

Veikko was waiting as they’d arranged by a waste pile from the old Eclipse Union mine. Webb, who could judge from a hundred yards away how crazy the Finn was apt to be feeling on a given day, noticed a two-gallon canteen sure to be full of that home-brewed potato spirits they all tended to go for, hung from the pommel of his saddle. There also seemed to be flames issuing out of his head, but Webb put that down to some trick of the light. From the look on his face, Webb could see signs of an oncoming dynamite headache after hanging around too long snorting nitro fumes.

But Sol was asleep. Sol was snoring. Billy and the gang grabbed ahold and tried to lift him out of it but Sol was as heavy and loud as a whale that had swallowed a foghorn and Billy was getting nervous. Sol was snoring loud enough to wake up Billy’s dead grandmother and right now that was the last person to whom Billy wanted to explain himself. Every attempt at waking Sol was met with cow-like inertia. ‘It aint no use,’ whined Billy, ‘we’ll have to leave him and hope he stays dumb.’ Billy Panacea and the gang cleared out, leaving Sol sound asleep in a corner. The cops had a field day. There was more evidence than they could comprehend, and god knows he had a motive. ‘So you finally did it eh Joe?’ said Chief Henry Blince. ‘That’s right Chief,’ said Solitary, beaming. ‘I did it alright. My prints are all over this premises.’ Sol was sentenced to twenty years, and he sat in his cell chuckling at what could be achieved with a well-measured dose of sleeping tablets. Two weeks later Billy Panacea and the gang brought Sol’s contentment to an end when, in a fit of remorse and criminal fraternity, they nitroed the jail and busted him out.

Řekl jsem Ti, že Tě hoši poslouchají, protože v Tebe slepě věří, protože k Tobě mají úctu a protože Tě mají rádi. Někdy však také poslechnou prostě proto, že sami chtějí. A to je největší umění vůdcovo, ovládat lidi, aniž to pozorují, přimět je k tomu, aby sami chtěli, co chce on. Jako vychovateli Ti často půjde daleko více o to, aby hoch chtěl něco skutečně z vlastní vůle a ne, aby tak jednal jenom z nějakého vnějšího důvodu. Chceš vnitřní rozhodnuti. Každý vliv a hlavně působení zvnějšku je do jisté míry tlakem, je to kus násilí, které hochovu duši vpravuję do určité formy. Vnější vliv budí také kritiku v hochově mysli. Mnohdy kritiku velmi ostrou a působí pak právě opak toho, co vychovatel očekává a čeho chtěl dosíci. Zakázané ovoce je nejsladší. . Musíš si proto najít způsob, jak bys, vycházeje zevnitř, mohl působit přímo na nitro hochovy duše. Chlapec je silně citová bytost. Rozumové argumenty na něho mnohdy neplatí, ale lacino jej chytíš na nějaký nápad, heslo, gesto, vtip. Ne však vždy. Duše lidská je jako hladina moře. Vždycky stejná a nikdy táž.

Antagonism, pure nitro-charged agro, fuels inspiration.

We're so exposed," Elliott said, as people tapped at the window, oohing at our neighbors' dishes. "This place is good, right?" "Yeah," I said. "It's supposed to be awesome. Though the menu is pretty controversial." "Controversial, huh? Well, I'll leave it up to you to navigate the terrain." "Come on, really? Order with me. Please?" "No, no, don't worry about it," he said. "Go crazy!" "Okay..." I said. "What about... gizzard porridge?" That was actually on the menu. "Sounds fabulous." I giggled. "Or what about the pork with three sweetbread jellies?" "Only three? I like at least a half dozen." I held the menu up like an inspector with her clipboard. "What about the strawberry ramen with peanut broth?" I challenged. "Ah, the sweet nectar of my youth." I spread out my elbows. "Okay, Mr. Chambers. I see your palate is quite sophisticated. Which means you simply must have the poached toothfish with nitro-chocolate ribbons." "Darling, it would be heresy to not." Elliott and I burst out laughing and a couple sitting next to us gave us dirty looks, which only made us laugh more. This was beginning to feel like old times. "All right, for real," I said, rubbing his hand from across the table. "What do you want?" "You decide, T. I trust you." I gave in and decided on three of the most talked-about dishes: buttermilk Parmesan flan with maple broth, pork and snail dumplings with effervescent chive oil, and beef meatballs with deep-fried cilantro chips.

believe it or not, when you come here and order something, you’re not ordering a drink, you’re ordering a solution. A solution to fatigue, irritability, and anything else that a lack of coffee means to you. So, if you’ll indulge me, I’m confident that the Nitro Cold Brew with Sweet Cream is what you actually want. It has ten grams less sugar than your regular, forty fewer calories, and one hundred forty milligrams more caffeine.

PROTOCOL #1: LONG-TERM AND SUSTAINED Fermented cod liver oil + vitamin-rich butter fat—2 capsules upon waking and before bed Vitamin D3—3,000–5,000 IU upon waking and before bed (6,000–10,000 IU per day), until you reach blood levels of 55 ng/mL. Short ice baths and/or cold showers—10 minutes each, upon waking and right before bed Brazil nuts—3 nuts upon waking, 3 nuts before bed (see important footnote).15 PROTOCOL #2: SHORT-TERM AND FUN “NITRO BOOST” 20–24 Hours Prior to Sex Eat at least 800 milligrams of cholesterol (example: four or more large whole eggs or egg yolks) within three hours of bedtime, the night before you want to have incredible sex. The Wolverine intro to this chapter was partially thanks to two ¾-pound rib-eye steaks the night before, but it’s easier to stomach hard-boiled eggs. Why before bed? Testosterone is derived from cholesterol, which is primarily produced at night during sleep (between midnight and 4:00–6:00 A.M.). Four Hours Prior to Sex 4 Brazil nuts 20 raw almonds 2 capsules of the above-mentioned fermented cod/butter combination

The time period covered in NITRO - 1995 to 2001 - represents a number of themes that transcend its subject matter; notably, the rise of early Internet culture, the still-active notion of 'mainstream', the limits of creative expression, ‘edgy’ entertainment that pushed the envelope, television and its cultural power (including, as a corollary, the decline of the televised communal experience), and the relative tranquility of America’s cultural, economic and political affairs. ...it was in this context that the explosion in wrestling’s popularity occurred.

The powder was in gelatin form, being made with nitro-glycerine as a base. It looked, as Mr. Damon had said, like a bunch of excelsior, only it was yellow instead of white, and it felt not unlike pieces of dry macaroni