> [N]ow, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark – that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back.
Quitting time is the runner-ups' cue to grab a drink and get under the table. In an advertised world of fabricated desires, squeezing out the juice from the hip pocket of the lowly consumer matters. Draining the colostomy bag as a straight chaser, the creeping debt that wraps the wallet skin begs for a reason to sink people further.
Racist epithets are the best kind of ethnic slur. Parts frothing at the mouth, a glint of mania and a whole slathering of ignorance, it's a nice chunk of overt xenophobia. On the other backhand, you have the shying away. Boycotting that cuisine. Stepping back quietly or crossing the street.
Prized for its prime parking spot clearance, the small blue sign on the inside of cars and welcoming a mat on the parking bay is a little person sitting on a bean bag looking forward to some sort of entertainment off panel. Otherwise known as the International Symbol of Access, the (intended) interpretation of the symbol supposes the circle portion of the logo to be a wheelchair.
Coming up to spoil the second third of the weekend of shut-ins and agoraphobes, as well as those who have tingles when stepping back on school grounds and other places of public congregation, the Queensland state election of 21 March.
Grenades launch green at the screens as the patrons sit down neatly in rows. Concessions flow free from the sides as the night sky provides ample cover for the machetes to run a side up from the hip to the lip. Dripping is wet and the colours from the black and white read red all over. Without subtitles mind you. Enemy of the visual outside the comprehension, and two tasks in reading at odds when the cotton swabs swab no faster than the flush.
Unremarkably, the industry for discount quality Persian rugs found discarded in shipping containers at reduced prices is a healthy one surviving merely on its own self-fulfilling endeavours.
Patrons of the white tiles and bright fluorescent lights covering floors and ceilings of supermarkets, department stores and pharmacies regularly face the option of buying products exclaimed to be "new" and "improved."
Closing another excruciating series, the 2006 run of Big Brother ends after 101 days. Perth personal trainer Jamie Brooksby beat off the other contestants to come out as the eventual winner. Right on his heels, Camilla Severi, picking up the runner up mantle.
Running rampant with creaming publicity, an incident of sexual assault in the Big Brother compound in the early night vision hours of Sunday manages to pump the shaft of the series ratings. Trigger insomniacs watching the live streaming were the first and only to see the action play out.
Dropping on the US like an otherwise dirty bomb seen over the hills of Hiroshima, Beaconsfield miners, Brant Webb and Todd Russell continue milking the cow that is their fortnight long ordeal.
Preempting the hard and soft rock strike of the rescue efforts of the two entombed Beaconsfield miners, journalist Richard Carlton died in the air of death and egg sandwiches.
Down the lake with the putrid stench of marketing gone loose, US import show, Prison Break faces a more than accepting convergence of awareness. Parting cheeks wet with soapy water and a room full of criminals, the landscape for Australian television hype continues to reach deeper levels.
