All my memories of being in Las Vegas with Bobby were great. Frank Sinatra brought us to the Sands Hotel in 1965. When we worked that lounge, it was a great lounge. I think it was bigger than the showroom. We were two 25-year-old dumb kids from Orange County in Las Vegas with The Rat Pack.
The important point is to be on the spot at the moment most favorable for gaining the desired advantage; and it will be found that of men who get what they want in this world, both those who seem to hasten and those who seem to lounge are always at the right place at the right time.
David Graham Phillips
I suddenly remembered that Murray Gell-Mann and I were supposed to give talks at that conference on the present situation of high-energy physics. My talk was set for the plenary session, so I asked the guide, "Sir, where would the talks for the plenary session of the conference be?" "Back in that room that we just came through." "Oh!" I said in delight. "Then I'm gonna give a speech in that room!" The guide looked down at my dirty pants and my sloppy shirt. I realized how dumb that remark must have sounded to him, but it was genuine surprise and delight on my part. We went along a little bit farther, and the guide said, "This is a lounge for the various delegates, where they often hold informal discussions." They were some small, square windows in the doors to the lounge that you could look through, so people looked in. There were a few men sitting there talking. I looked through the windows and saw Igor Tamm, a physicist from Russia that I know. "Oh!" I said. "I know that guy!" and I started through the door. The guide screamed, "No, no! Don't go in there!" By this time he was sure he had a maniac on his hands, but he couldn't chase me because he wasn't allowed to go through the door himself!
Oh," she said. "You can rest assured that I will kill him. Mostly this is to emphasize what I said before: no more time to lounge around and decide with no consequences. For every moment you waste deliberating today, the Oak King will be in the hands of my torturers, experiencing the most excruciating pain. Your delay extends that agony." "Oh, irony," murmured Dorian.
I walked across the polished marble floor and sat on a red velvet lounging couch. I idly wondered how exactly one was supposed to lounge. I couldn't remember ever doing it myself. After a moment's consideration, I decided lounging was probably similar to relaxing, but with more money in your pocket.
Sometimes being lazy can get you in trouble. You ever not take a shower all weekend, just lounge around, then you're running late for work on Monday? There's always one person at work: "Something smells like smoke in here!" "Uh, I went to a barbeque on Friday night. Only had 48 hours to take a shower. Busy."
Grant glanced down at his khaki jacket. Since he'd slipped on the US Navy uniform in Agent Bounter's office, he'd felt a confident swagger possess him. His spine lengthened, and his shoulders retracted. He should've been wearing this every day, not the stupid dress shirt and slacks of a lounge singer.
Sometimes God does something dramatic to get our attention. That's what happened to me in 1975. My family and I were enjoying the peace and quiet of a borrowed cabin in the Colorado Rockies. I was stretched out on a lounge chair in the midday warmth, praying and thinking. I was considering how we Christians - not just the mission I was part of, but all of us - could turn the world around for Jesus.
Madonna's- Justify My Love, follows us into the lounge, where several men, seated at the tables, eye us like hungry lions as we walk through. Tiger asked, "So, this is a WHOREhouse?" "Actually, a gay BATHhouse. I hope you don't mind that I'm a little bit of a SLUT-puppy." "MIND? NO. You're MY HERO.
I started in the club route. I did the alternative scene later on. When I lived in New York, I did the Luna Lounge and stuff, where Janeane Garofalo and David Cross and all those guys worked out of, but I came from a comedy club background. I'm proud of that background. I'm one of the people that really crossed over and did both.
It's when we say that we don't love something that people get surprised. "I thought you guys liked everything!" The stuff I don't like is the lounge-y muzak in restaurants, elevators and hotels. It really gets me angry, because it's supposed to be in the background. It's not supposed to be something that people listen to.
My parents divorced when I was 3 years old. They had a lounge act in Las Vegas, where I was born. The band broke up and the marriage dissolved, and my mother, my sister and I moved to Southern California. And I didn't see my dad a lot growing up; he was on the road a lot. I'd see him every couple years.
Some people work to have a weekend and so on the weekend they genuinely don't think about anything apart from the fact that they're on their weekend. Some people are like that so maybe some people would be like, "Yeah that'd be great. Take away my anxiety and give me a nice lounge chair." But I would be so not interested in that.
Really, just looking around, you feel a twinge of pity for the poor souls who succeeded in getting past the Pearly Gates. One can't help but picture the lackluster VIP lounge in Heaven, a kind of nonalcoholic ice-cream social starring Harriet Beecher Stowe and Mahatma Gandhi. Hardly anyone's idea of a "with-it" social register.
He reclined on a delightfully cushioned lounge in the sprawling ranch Paris had rented. In Dallas, Texas, of all places. Promiscuity had decked himself out, too, wearing a Stetson (weird), no shirt (understandable), unfastened jeans (smart) and cowboy boots (weird again). Dude looked ready to rustle cattle or something.
Tweeting is something you can do wherever you are, on your phone, on the computer, in an airport lounge. It's easy to do, and I do find it fun to communicate with people. It's quite nice that we can have almost direct contact with anyone in the world at any time. I don't know how important it is in terms of one's career. It seems to be pretty much superfluous in terms of that, but it's nice to communicate.
I'm nostalgic for the future I knew as a kid. Back then, it was a lovely, bleepy, heavenly land populated by svelte men in white polo necks, who would lounge on big white sofas sipping blue wine from big glass globes, beside women like the ones on the covers of Hedkandi chill out compilations.
An evening up on the Empire State roof-the strangest experience. The huge tomb in steel and glass, the ride to the 84th floor and there, under the clouds, a Hawaiian string quartet, lounge, concessions and, a thousand feet below, New York-a garden of golden lights winking on and off, automobiles, trucks winding in and out, and not a sound. All as silent as a dead city-and it looks adagio down there.
The lounge of the private terminal in Delhi. A place of beige leather sofas and cappuccinos, set deep in that world where a seeling modernity has yet to close over the land, and where in the empty spaces that lie between the elevated roads and the coloured glass buildings there are still, like insects taking shelter under the veined roof of a leaf, the encampments of families who built them. Black pigs still thread their way through the weeds, there are still patient lorry-loads of labourers, waiting among the dazzle of the new cars, for the lights to change. One India, dwarfed and stunted, adheres like a watchful undergrowth to another India which, in very physical ways, as with the roads that fly up out of the pale land, or the chunks of monorail that rise up from the ground like the remnants of an ancient wall, or the blank closed faces of the glass buildings, wishes to shrug off its poorer opposite: to leave it behind; to shut it out; to soar over it. One man, above all, captures the mood of this time: the security guard. In him, this man of expectation - a man not rich himself, but standing guard at the doorway to a world of riches - it is possible to feel the boredom and restlessness of a world that inspires ambition, but cannot answer it. Skanda watches him watching the lounge, with eyes glazed and yellowing from undernourishment. A favourite phrase from college returns: Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?
We rarely get to prepare ourselves in meadows or on graveled walks; we do it on short notice in places without windows, hospital corridors, rooms like this lounge with its cracked plastic sofa and Cinzano ashtrays, where the cafe curtains cover blank concrete. In rooms like this, with so little time, we prepare our gestures, get them by heart so we can do them when we're frightened in the face of Doom.
I sit up in bed and watch her fiddle about in the back of my wardrobe. I think she's got a plan. That's what's good about Zoey. She'd better hurry up though, because I'm starting to think of things like carrots. And air. And ducks. And pear trees. Velvet and silk. Lakes. I'm going to miss ice. And the sofa. And the lounge. And the way Cal loves magic tricks. And white things- milk, snow, swans.
It just seemed fitting to have our own lounge with our own dance review that paid homage to where The Pussycat Dolls originated, ... So it wasn't just another nightclub. It was somewhere where people can go and see an old school show with real dancing and real performing and real singing. It's perfect for Vegas. It's got that whole cabaret, burlesque-inspired review of dancing, and the whole fishnets, and boas.
April Fool is widely considered one of the top yachts ever built by Feadship, the famed Dutch shipyard. Launched in 2006, April Fool has a huge master stateroom, a Jacuzzi on the fourth-level sun deck, a sauna, and sprawling outdoor dining lounge. The yacht first came onto the market in 2011 with a price of $69.5 million.
I go to Las Vegas--or at least I went to Las Vegas--because even though I knew everything that was sinister, calculating, and evil about it, I loved Las Vegas. Only in Vegas could I dare to fantasize that I was a Friend of Frank. Or that I was throwing the dice at Dino's favorite table. Or that I might luck out and sip bourbon with Rickles after his last lounge show. The D.I. oozed that kind of heady fantasy.
There was a desert wind blowing that night. It was one of those hot dry Santa Anas that come down through the mountain passes and curl your hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch. On nights like that every booze party ends in a fight. Meek little wives feel the edge of the carving knife and study their husbands' necks. Anything can happen. You can even get a full glass of beer at a cocktail lounge.
If they don't board and live by themselves, even in their second year they've got no lounge or kitchen table and it's a pretty lonely existence when you get home to an empty house. Homesickness is a key issue for kids who are drafted interstate, whether they are going to Melbourne or coming to Perth or going to Brisbane. All the kids we've drafted this year will all go through periods of homesickness, which can lead to worse things.
With blue vinyl-tile floor, pale-green wainscoating, pink walls, a yellow ceiling, and orange-and-white stork-patterned drapes, the expectant fathers' lounge churned with the negative energy of color overload. It would have served well as the nervous-making set for a nightmare about a children's-show host who led a secret life as an ax murderer. The chain-smoking clown didn't improve the ambience.
...in the eyes of her oldest friends and colleagues and extended family, she wasn't a painfully thin seventy-five-year-old gray haired woman dying of cancer- she was a grade school class president, the young friend you gossiped with, a date or double date, someone to share a tent with in Darfur, a fellow election monitor in Bosnia, a mentor, a teacher you'd laughed within a classroom or a faculty lounge, or the board member you'd groaned with after a contentious meeting
if we're to experience change in our very nature, we need to enter the cocoon of the Word of God. When you sit in your lounge room or your favorite chair reading the Bible, think caterpillar. It's like you're spinning your own spiritual cocoon. It's in the confines of the cocoon that the unseen work is done in the caterpillar... This is exactly what happens to us when we abide in the Word of God. It's here He can do His greatest work in us. As we commit to this process we too will experience internal transformation that in time will cause external change.
This imaginary gift is a journey for your imagination. I send you... A luxury train ride. On this train are all the inspiring people you've ever wanted to meet or talk to. You glide from car to car, sitting or lying down on velvet lounge chairs, listening and asking questions. There is also a voluminous library on the train, with every book you've ever wanted to read or look at. Kind people bring you delicious tidbits to eat and nourishing liquids to drink. If you take a nap, time stands still until you return so you never miss anything. You receive a large journal filled with photographs, drawings and descriptions of your journey to take with you when you leave. You realize that you can board this train at any time.
Then he looked up, despite all best prior intentions. In four minutes, it would be another hour; a half hour after that was the ten-minute break. Lane Dean imagined himself running around on the break, waving his arms and shouting gibberish and holding ten cigarettes at once in his mouth, like a panpipe. Year after year, a face the same color as your desk. Lord Jesus. Coffee wasn't allowed because of spills on the files, but on the break he'd have a big cup of coffee in each hand while he pictured himself running around the outside grounds, shouting. He knew what he'd really do on the break was sit facing the wall clock in the lounge and, despite prayers and effort, count the seconds tick off until he had to come back and do this again. And again and again and again.
David Foster Wallace
Rosy's mummy hands Franny a clear plastic bag full of reject biscuits, then Rosy holds her cheek out for Franny's wet kiss. Rosy wipes the slime from her face and Franny cackles, then shows them both into the lounge. There on Franny's coffee table is a biscuit tin with a Christmas picture on the lid. Proper shop-bought biscuits, not factory rejects. 'Please, may I have a biscuit?' Rosy says. 'Oh, there are no biscuits in that my darling, ' Franny says, and pulls the tin from Rosy's prying fingers. Franny holds open the bag of crumb-speckled chocolate digestives. 'Help yourself, my wee hen.' Rosy settles for a reject. Franny puts the Christmas tin up high, way up high, way out of reach.
A Gift for You I send you... A cottage retreat on a hill in Ireland. This cottage is filled with fresh flowers, art supplies, and a double-wide chaise lounge in front of a wood-burning fireplace. There is a cabinet near the front door, where your favorite meals appear, several times a day. Desserts are plentiful and calorie free. The closet is stocked with colorful robes and pajamas, and a painting in the bedroom slides aside to reveal a plasma television screen with every movie you've ever wanted to watch. A wooden mailbox at the end of the lane is filled daily with beguiling invitations to tea parties, horse-and-carriage rides, theatrical performances, and violin concerts. There is no obligation or need to respond. You sleep deeply and peacefully each night, and feel profoundly healthy. This cottage is yours to return to at any time.
I wanna say something that I want you to remember for the rest of your life, OK? I want you to listen closely. I'm giving you a key to life right now, this is the key to life. The key to life, the key to life is running and reading. Oh right? Now listen very seriously, the key to life is running and reading. Right now, why running? When you're running and you are there and you're running there's a little person that talks to you and that little person says "Oh, I'm tired", "My lounge's about to pop", "I'm so hurt", "I'm so tired", "There's no way I can possibly continue". And you wanna quit. Right? That person, if you learn how to defeat that person when you're running you will learn how to not quit when things get hard in your life. Running. Oh right? That's the first key to life. Reading. The reason the reading is so important. There've been millions and billions and billions and gazillions of people that have lived before all of us. There's no new problem you can have with your parents, with school, with a bully, with anything, there's no problem you can have that someone hasn't already solved and wrote about it in a book. So they keys to life are running and reading.
YEAH WE IN PA PHILLY STILL OKAY, COME ON CLEAR THE WAY 412 ALL DAY AND YOU MOVING HERE NAKTURNAL IS NEAR GRAB AN IRON BEER OR SHAKE IT WITH NO FEAR MEAT ME DOWNTOWN ROCK IT TO THE GROUND WIZ HE SPREAD A SOUND BOYS IN BLUE GOT SHOT DOWN NOW WERE IN A FAMOUS TOWN BUY ANOTHER ROUND DRINKING HEAVY GIVING POUND PURP N DUNNY STACKIN MOUNDS STEEL WAS ONCE OUR PRIDE NYC BUILT INSIDE A FOUR RIVERS KINDA MIND AND NOW IT'S OUR TIME YEAH WE GOT 6 RINGS YEAH THAT'S MY TOWN AND WE DON'T NEED BLING SPREAD IT ALL AROUND AND WE MAKING ROCKETS TO THE MOON WE BOUND DJ HUG AND BONICS THEY BE GETTING IT DOWN GOT THE STANLEY CUP WE DON'T GIVE A WHAT DOWN AT SHADOW LOUNGE WE BE DOIN THE BUTT NAK LADIES STRUT OUT THE HYBRID TRUCK YEAH THE PIRATES SUCK BUT WE STILL FEEL THE FUNK AND WE MEDITATE WE'RE DAILY FEELING GREAT AND WE DON'T TAKE NO BREAKS AND WE ARE NEVER FAKE PITTSBURGH GOT THAT TEAM LIKE RXC WE EXTREME N'AT KNOW WHAT I MEAN
Religion can never reform mankind because religion is slavery. It is far better to be free, to leave the forts and barricades of fear, to stand erect and face the future with a smile. It is far better to give yourself sometimes to negligence, to drift with wave and tide, with the blind force of the world, to think and dream, to forget the chains and limitations of the breathing life, to forget purpose and object, to lounge in the picture gallery of the brain, to feel once more the clasps and kisses of the past, to bring life's morning back, to see again the forms and faces of the dead, to paint fair pictures for the coming years, to forget all Gods, their promises and threats, to feel within your veins life's joyous stream and hear the martial music, the rhythmic beating of your fearless heart. And then to rouse yourself to do all useful things, to reach with thought and deed the ideal in your brain, to give your fancies wing, that they, like chemist bees, may find art's nectar in the weeds of common things, to look with trained and steady eyes for facts, to find the subtle threads that join the distant with the now, to increase knowledge, to take burdens from the weak, to develop the brain, to defend the right, to make a palace for the soul. This is real religion. This is real worship
Robert G. Ingersoll
ITS LEGIBLY UNIMAGINABLE, MATHEMATICALLY INCALCULABLE INEXTRICABLY INFALIBLE LET'S NOT FORGET UTTERLY IMPOSSIBLE OR MORALLY UNSERMOUNTABLE TO ASSUME THAT I COULD LOSE IF I BATTLED YOU MY SCHOLASTIC APTITUDE IS 1602 100 BARS WAS JUST A GLIMPSE OF THE TRUTH PHYSICAL PROOF THAT I'M THE BEST AT THIS I'VE CONTRUCTED SENTENCES THAT'LL STAND LONGER THEN STONE HENGES MEGALITHS MY 1ST AND 2ND ALBUMS CONSISTS OF MORE THEN A MILLION TERABITS MORE THEN ANY OF YOU RAPPERS EVER SPIT VOTE FOR ME AS PRESIDENT, IN ABOUT A DAY OR SO I BE UP IN THE WHITE HOUSE GETTING FELETIO BY AN ADMINISTRATIVE ASSISTANT WITH DEEP THROAT BUTT NAKED ON THE FLOOR KNEE DEEP IN SOME COKE OR ON A SPEAKER PHONE FREESTYLING WITH SOME OF MY FOLKS HUMPING A HO TAMPERING WITH THE REPUBLICAN VOTE I'M LIKE MEL GIBSON IN BRAVEHEART, FIGHTING SWORDSMAN DODGING ARROWS FROM THE ARCHES 'CAUSE I'M A HORESMAN FLYING CIRCLES AROUND YOU LIKE FLYING SAUCERS FLYING CIRCLES AROUND THE ROYAL AIR FORCE'S FLYING FORTRESS MAXIMIZE MY WINS, MINIMIZE MY LOSES TIL I'M EXHAUSTED THEN LOUNGE LIKE THE LYRICISTS ON RAWKUS I'M UNSIGNED RIGHT NOW, IT'S LIKE I'M AN ORPHAN LOOKING FOR A HOME TAKING ALL CALLS AND OFFERS NOTIFY THE PRINCE AND THE DUKE OF EARL I'M PROBABLY THE ILLEST ENGLISH SPEAKING MC IN THE WORLD GHETTO FABULOUS, VERBALLY HAZARDOUS ASK ANY BAPTIST, ROMAN CATHOLIC OR SATANIC ACTIVIST EVEN THEM TRIPPY HIPPIES ON COLLEGE CAMPUSES KNOW ABOUT CANIBUS I'VE GOT RHYMES LIKE BEADS ON AN ABACUS MY STYLES TOTALLY OUT THE BRACKET SCIENTIST IN THICK GLASSES AND POCKET PROTECTORS WANT TO PATENT IT MY TALENT IS UNMATCHED BY ANY RAPPER IN THIS RAPPING BIZ BY ANY RAPPER ON THIS PLANET'S GRID SHOW ME WHERE HE IS, I SIGN THE ORDENANCE TO BOMB HIS COORDINANTS WITH AGENT ORANGE AND TORTURE HIM BURN THE SKIN OFF OF HIM, THROW A TOWEL ON HIM AND STOMP ON HIM RIP THE TOWEL OFF THEN POUR SALT ON HIM CONTINUE MY VERBAL ASSAULT ON HIM TIL ITS 12 IN THE MORNING AND TURN INTO THE WEREWOLF MONSTER ON HIM RIP HIS HEART OUT, EAT IT WHILE ITS STILL PUMPING THE BLOOD STILL RUNNING, IT TASTES LIKE BOILED DUMPLINGS STARVING ARTIST, I TURNED DOWN SCHOLARSHIPS TO OXFORD COLLEGE 'CAUSE I HEARD THEY DIDN'T SERVE PORRIDGE SMARTEST THEN ANY MAN IN SCOTLAND YARD IS USED TO WORK FOR MI6 BUT QUIT 'CAUSE I COULDN'T TAKE ORDERS I WAS THE ORIGINAL JAMES BOND BEFORE SEAN CONN', ROGER MOORE, TIMOTHY DALTON AND PIERCE BROSMAN THE MOST AWESOME WALKING, TALKING, BREATHING ENGLISH SPEAKING MC IN THE EUROPEAN REGION RIP YOU TO PIECES LIKE COMMUNISM LEAFLETS BEEF WITH 'BIS IS LIKE PLAYING CHESS WITHOUT THE PIECES MODERN CHRISTIANS WITHOUT JESUS, RASTA'S WITHOUT REEFER JAMAICAN'S IN PRINCETON WITHOUT VISA'S RADIO'S WITHOUT SPEAKERS, MOTHER NATURE WITHOUT THE 4 SEASONS WITHOUT A JACKET OUTSIDE WHEN ITS FREEZING I'MA TELL YOU STRAIGHT UP, NO LIE CANIBUS IS THE ILLEST MOTHERFUCKER ALIVE HA HA HA HA HA THE EVIL SPIRIT OF RAP, THE EVIL RAPPER RIP THE JACKE