Podcasts about Taut

Host Evie Stokes talks to KEXP Music Director Chris Sanley about POP Montreal International Music Festival’s best acts, including WORKS and their song "Taut & Unphased." Hosted by Evie StokesProduced by Lilly Ana FowlerMastered by: William MyersProduction support: Serafima HealyAssociate Director of Editorial: Dusty Henry Listen to the full songs on KEXP's "In Our Headphones" playlist on Spotify or the “What's In Our Headphones” playlist on YouTube. Support the podcast: kexp.org/headphonesContact us at headphones@kexp.org.Support the show: https://www.kexp.org/donateSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Stāsta arhitekte Dace Kalvāne Vai esat kādreiz, ejot pa Rīgas ielām, sajutuši, ka kāds jūs vēro no namu fasādēm, no balkoniem vai ieejas portāliem? Tās ir sievišķīgās akmens sejas, kas jau vairāk nekā gadsimtu vēro pilsētu un tās cilvēkus. Šīs akmens dāmas – skaistas, cēlas, reizēm biedējošas – ir eklektiskma un jūgendstila laikmeta mūzas, tapušas laikā, kad Rīga kļuva par vienu no Eiropas arhitektūras pērlēm. Tās stāsta par skaistumu, gudrību un spēku, kas reiz tika atveidots akmenī. Eklektisma un īpaši jūgendstila periods Rīgā bija laiks, kad arhitektūra kļuva personiska — katra ēka bija veidota kā stāsts, fasādes detaļas piesātinātu emociju pilnas. Un nereti sievietes tēls namu fasādēs atspoguļoja skaistuma, gara un dzīves alegoriju. 19. gadsimta beigās, kad pilsēta piedzīvoja strauju uzplaukumu, sievietes tēls arhitektūrā bija viens no namu fasāžu dekoratīvajiem elementiem, simbolizējot dabas spēku, mākslu, intuīciju un skaistumu. Daudzus no šiem tēliem radīja Augusts Folcs – vācu izcelsmes tēlnieks, kura darbnīca Rīgā bija viena no nozīmīgākajām Baltijā. Folca darbnīca sadarbojās ar arhitektiem Eizenšteinu, Pēkšēnu, Alksni, Šēlu un citiem.Tieši viņu darbnīcā tapa daudzi sieviešu tēli, kas šodien rotā Rīgas ēku fasādes – smalki, emocionāli un dzīvi. Alberta ielā – Rīgas jūgendstila sirdī, Mihaila Eizenšteina projektētajās ēkās – šīs sievietes ir visdažādākās, viņu sejās atspoguļojas viss emociju spektrs: skaistums, ekstāze, šausmas, sapnis. Šie tēli rada drāmu, kurā akmens kļūst par dzīvu būtni. Ne velti saka, ka Alberta iela ir Rīgas akmens galerija – vieta, kur arhitektūra runā arī caur sievietes tēlu. Savukārt Elizabetes ielas 10a nama fasādē pārsteidz dramatiskā sieviete ar čūsku matos – viņa simbolizē zināšanas, kaisli un cilvēka iekšējo konfliktu – to, kas vienlaikus pievelk un biedē. Tā ir jūgendstila būtība: noslēpumainais skaistums... Arī ārpus jūgendstila epicentra, Ģertrūdes ielā 10/12, sieviešu tēli veido harmonijas pilnas kompozīcijas. Tur portālu ieskauj sievietes figūras, kas saplūst ar ziedu un lapu ornamentiem – dzīves un dabas vienotība. Un tad – Smilšu iela. Te mājo īpašs noslēpums... Smilšu ielā 8, arhitektu Heinriha Šēla un Frīdriha Šefela projektētajā namā, virs portāla slejas divas akmens dāmas. Viņu sejās – gan maigums, gan noslēpums, it kā starp viņām noritētu klusa saruna. Tās it kā sarunājas – viena pavērsta gaismai, otra ēnai. Folca darbnīcas tēlnieki šeit radījuši sieviešu figūras, kas ir gan dekoratīvas, gan emocionāli patiesas. Un tomēr… Tikai dažu soļu attālumā ir viņa — skaistākā no visām. Smilšu ielā 2 – Konstantīna Pēkšēna projektētajā namā, kur virs portāla slejas majestātiska kariatīde. Tautā viņu sauc par "Akmens Mis Rīgu". Viņas sejas vaibsti ir gandrīz dzīvi – viegli pacelta galva, dziļš, mierīgs skatiens, lūpas, kas it kā tūlīt pasmaidīs. Kopā ar pāva tēlu, kas simbolizē skaistumu, un spārnoto sievietes galvu – saules simbolu, šī fasāde kļuvusi gandrīz vai par Rīgas jūgendstila emblēmu. Te Folca darbnīcas meistarība un Pēkšēna arhitektūra saplūst pilnīgā vienotībā – akmenī dzimst sieviete, kas pārdzīvojusi gadsimtus. Fasādes centrā, virs ieejas portāla, atrodas sievietes figūra ar mierīgu, cēlu sejas izteiksmi, kuru ieskauj bagātīgi jūgendstila ornamenti. "Akmens Mis Rīga" ir kļuvusi par neoficiālu Vecrīgas skaistuma un jūgendstila emblēmu. Tūristi to bieži fotografē, un tā tiek pieminēta arī Rīgas jūgendstila muzeja un arhitektūras vēsturez lekcijās kā viens no simboliskākajiem sievietes attēlojumiem Latvijas arhitektūrā. "Akmens Mis Rīga" ir ne tikai arhitektūras rotājums. Viņa ir pilsētas seja, rīdzinieces ideāls, skaistuma un spēka alegorija. Tāpēc, kad nākamreiz, kad iesiet cauri Vecrīgai, paskatieties augšup. Varbūt sastapsiet viņas skatienu!

One lowly pledge must satisfy the girls of Omega U. By QuothTheRamen - Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Life as a lowly pledge The day I went to college I thought I had cleaned my last floor. Washed my last dish. Scrubbed my last toilet. I left home after five years too many of flipping burgers and dealing with other people's shit. I was done trying to make a bunch of assholes happy. It took all of one day in a frat to realize I was wrong. The world was filled with unhappy assholes, and they were all my problem."Pledge Needledick! Make sure the floor shines." Beko was the frat vice president. He was about as funny as a cold sore. But he was also a linebacker, so people generally felt obligated to laugh. "It's Cam." I said. "It's Cam what?" "It's Cam, Sir." I said. I did not sigh. It was difficult. "It's pledge Needledick now." Beko woofed. Like a dog. A retarded dog. "We are getting fucked up!" Shaun slid himself between Beko and me, smooth as anyone I had ever seen. "What Beko is trying to say is that today is your night on the chore rota Cam. All pledges take a turn." Shaun was the frat president. And he was probably going to be a senator. "No. I get it. Shit needs cleaning." I said. "Right. Spirit of brotherhood. Don't wait up." Shaun said. "Beko! What have I told you about pissing on the floor?" And, with the sloppy zip of a zipper, I was alone. I had the place to myself, piles of shit to clean up, and a fresh puddle of piss to mop. "I am so fucking stupid." I said. I pledged the frat because Alpha Nu Alpha Lambda was the place for business majors. Just this chapter alone had produced three Fortune 500 CEOs, a couple of Silicon valley royalty, and so many millionaires they stopped keeping track. And business is all about who you know. A poor boy from the shit end of the city who does not know anyone needs to change that. And so I did. And now I was picking up empties while the future leaders of the free world were getting shitfaced and laid. You would think that with so many rich bastards they would have a maid. I was well into the second hour and elbow deep in the world's most disgusting toilet when the doorbell rang. I didn't get up. I just kept scrubbing. Whoever they were here for it certainly was not me. The bell rang again. And again. And then someone starting pressing it like they'd been duct taped to the damn button and then had a seizure. I ripped off my yellow gloves, jogged to the door and opened it. "What the fu-" I started. I did not end that sentence. I saw where it was going, flagged it down, and gave it directions to a new and better place. "How can I help you?" I said. Is this because I am a good person? The kind of person who does not tear people's heads off for no reason? Of course not. I worked in fast food. It was because, on the other side of the door, stood a very pretty young Asian girl in heels, a knit skirt, and a sorority sweater so tight that it had to have been drawn on her. The girl blinked the blink of the slightly high, or the very dumb. "I'm here for Beko." she said. Dumb it is. "He's out right now. I can tell him you called." I said. She blinked again. "I didn't call. I walked." "Right. No. Totally get that. Do you want to leave a message?" "Nope. I want to see Beko." "Tell you what. Come on in. We'll call him." I said. "Let me just wash my hands." She walked in and, with a clear familiarity, walked over to our least disgusting couch and sat on it. I ran to the sink, scrubbed up and came out. Then I called Beko from my cell. He answered on the first ring. "Beko, it's me, Cam. I have a--" I looked at the Asian space cadet quizzically. "June." she said. "--June here to talk to you." "Needledick! I was watching porn on my phone." Beko shouted. Over what must have been one hell of a party. "Now I just see your stupid Needledick name on my phone. Hang up so I can see some titties." So I hung up. "He's very busy right now." I said. "Is there anything I can do for you?" "Is Joe here?" "No. Just me." "Louis?" "No. He's out." Ryan?" "No. I am the only one here. I am the only Alpha in the house. There is just me. I see you thinking of another name. But he is not here either. I assure you, I am the Alpha and the Omega of people in this house." She looked confused. "No. I am the Omega. Omega Chi Upsilon Mu." She said. Now I was confused. Omega was almost a honor society. It was not your run of the mill sorority. "Pardon?" "I'm an Omega." She smiled. "And I am high as fuck." Ahh. So not dumb. Just really high. "Right. Well is there anyone else you need me to call? I don't want to blow you off, but I still have a lot of cleaning to do." I said. "I want to blow you off." "Is that a pot joke?" "No." She stopped, wrinkled up in a frown, then continued. "At least I don't think so. I need to blow an Alpha." "And why is that?"" "Scavenger hunt. You guys are worth forty points for a facial." "I'm sorry?" Let's step back for a moment. Time to create a Venn diagram. One circle will be "Woman who have sucked my dick." Small circle. Not empty. Filled with women to whom I am forever grateful. Let's have the other circle be "Women who are so fucking hot that I silently apologize after jerking off to their memory." Now, and I want to be totally clear on this, these circles do not intersect. Not even a little. They don't even get written out on the same piece of paper. Imagine too, a circle labelled "Women who let me cum on their face." This circle was empty. Back to the moment. "Tonight is the Omega Scavenger hunt. And I wanna win it." she said. Her smile was tempting me to make a bad decision. "So what do I do?" "Take off your pants. But leave on the Alpha sweatshirt." I reached for my belt, and then years of self-preservation kicked in. "Wait, Beko's not your boyfriend is he? Because he would have an easy time killing me and I would have a hard time stopping him." "Nope. He just has a nice dick." Which is exactly not what I want to think about when I next see Beko. I dropped my pants. Then I closed my eyes and waited for the someone to tell me that this was a terrible terrible prank. What I felt instead was warm breath across my the head of my dick. I cautiously opened one eye, then the other. She'd taken one of the couch cushions and put it on the floor in front of me. She was kneeling on it, her face just inches away from me. I was not hard. But that was not going to last. She traced her fingers up my thigh, sliding them slowly up, I bit my lip as I watched her. Her hand slid under my balls, then she ran a finger from my ass all the way to where they hung. All the while her hot breath surrounded me. I'd never watched myself get hard before, but it was happening so fast it barely registered. One minute her hand lightly cupped my balls and the next I am so damn hard that it almost slaps me in the stomach. "You like this?" She asked, as she ran her soft cheek along the head. "I'm neither dead nor gay, so yes." "Good." She said. The she wrapped her hand around the base of my shaft, holding it up. She leaned in and alternated between soft kisses and quick licks as she worked her way up. I balled my fists so hard that my nails dug into my palms. She teased and licked her way up, until her mouth was just at the head. Then she looked up at me, winked, and took me in her mouth. I'd had my dick sucked before. I thought it was awesome. It turns out that everyone who came before was just shit. She ran her tongue under my shaft, her mouth wet and ready. She swirled it against the hole at the tip, then leaned in, taking inch after inch. She did not slow. She did not stop. She took me in until her nose was flush against me, her chin touching my balls. She winked again. And then slowly, slowly, ever so slowly, she let me out. Her tongue made every inch of my man flesh electric. I reached down to her head, but she just brushed me off, then waved her finger in the classic naughty naughty gesture. Chastened, I put my hands behind my head and groaned. She firmly wrapped one hand around my root, and with the other cupped my balls, pressing a finger against my taint. She leaned forward again, taking me until her lips reached her hand. She began to rock her head back and forth, slowly at first. Her hand stayed with her lips, making every rock a long slow stroke of my dick, with the wet miracle of her mouth keeping me on edge. I took a deep breath as she started speeding up. Every downstroke felt my cock getting wetter, every upstroke felt my balls getting tighter. Her free hand was rubbing my taint, teasing my balls, and driving me crazy. I felt my hips go loose as I adopted her rhythm. Pulling away when she pulled away. Pushing in as she pushed in. I felt myself in the back of her throat, then running the length of her tongue. She kept a wet suction that gave me no respite. I felt myself pushing the pace now. Seeing her, so gorgeous, so sexy so fucking good at sucking a cock was too much. I pushed so hard she gagged. I pulled out so far the cool air hit me. But she did not stop. Her grip on my shaft tighten. She slammed me into her mouth as if daring me to try to stop. I was off balance, standing on my toes, my dick falling into her amazing mouth, my eyes seeing stars. "Fucking Christ! I'm going to blow!" I said. She sped up, moving so fast she got blurry. I felt my load begin, rumbling from the depths of me up my shaft. She felt it too, and right when it was about to escape she learned back, her hands continuing to work the shaft. I exploded on to her. On her cheek, her perfect nose, her hair. And she put her face right against me. Pulling me still, milking every last drop onto her skin. I was in love. So it is a clear understatement when I say I was surprised when the flash went off. "Did you just take a selfie?" I said. "Yep. Gotta get the points." She said. "I forgot about that." And I had. This was clearly a one-time thing. But at least I closed the Venn diagram. "So June, could you send me that?" "Nope." "Right." I reached for the paper towel roll that remained from my cleaning and offered it to her. "Towel?" I said. She smiled the gorgeous smile, buried under layers of my spunk. "Nope. I'll wear it out. Extra five points." And, just like that, she was gone. It was the best thirty minutes of my life so far. Of course, by the end of the night it would be the third best thirty minutes of my life. One lowly pledge must make her nasty video dreams come true. I found pizza under a couch. Not a pizza box. No box to be found. Not a single slice, but instead eight slices, composing a whole pizza of what I can only assume was pepperoni pizza, all perfectly arranged under the couch. Like it was being delivered to hungry mice whose ordering reach far exceeds their grasp. Or a bunch of morons with the munchies. Fifty/fifty. I had been tempted, only briefly, to leave the pizza out as a reminder to my frat brothers to clean up after themselves. But, given the bags of filth I trucked out to the dumpster, this cause was lost. I tossed the pizza in with the condom wrappers, used dental floss, and random crusty Kleenex that so recently littered our floors. You might think that I would be unhappy, cleaning up after a couple dozen very well connected douchebags. And, on a normal night, you would be right. But this was not a normal night. This was a night in which the mere fact of my association with Alpha Nu Alpha Lambda resulted in me getting the kind of blow job reserved for men with excessive body hair, giant cigars, and private armies. A night in which one of the hottest women I had ever seen allowed me to not only cover a tile in ethnic bingo (Row: BJ, Column: Asian. Bingo!) but also had me paint her face like a drunken Jackson Pollack. So while I may be the lowest man on a very mangy totem pole, I was also a man who had had my pole waxed. I was in a post orgasm glow, and oscillated between absolute disbelief that I might ever be so lucky, and a profound fear that the best thing that might ever happen to me had already happened. It was deep into one of these swings into self-doubt, and deep into a pile of what I could only assume were once out dishes, that the doorbell rang. It may seem crazy to you that I did not run to the door. It may seem crazy to you that I did not even leave the dishes behind. But, to be clear, you are three hundred words into chapter two. I assumed I was living in the boring epilogue of chapter one. So I did not walk to the door. And I did not run. Instead I picked up the next sorry excuse for a plate and started scrubbing. The doorbell rang again. With feeling. And then again. Eventually I realized that whomever was pushing it was actually tapping out a beat. A lively bossa nova thing. And they were not going anywhere. No night is perfect. I put the dish down, dried off my hands, and walked to the door. The persistent beat made my feet want to run, but I kept them under control. I stood in front of the door, took a deep breath, and opened it. "Welcome to Alpha Nu, how can I help you?" It was dark outside. But she was very blonde. The kind of blonde that happens when you have hair bleach and a wandering mind. The hair framed a lovely face, ghostly pale. And now I was staring. She smiled, a thousand watt thing. "You can help me by getting out of my way." "What?" "'How can you help me?'" She said. "You just asked. Then you got stupid." "Right. No. Come in. I'm Cam." I moved out of the way She pushed past me, pulling a giant roller bag. "I'm Mary. But everyone calls me Daisy." "Why is that?" She hit me with the smile again. "Because I tell them to." She put the bag down, then spun around like a Julie Andrews on a German mountain. This caused her slightly modest sundress to become much less modest, and gave me a lovely view of a pair of runner's legs. And I was staring again. "This will have to do. It's funny, because the place looks so classy outside. All bricks and ivy. Then you come in and it looks like someone threw up on the floor." She said. "Someone does throw up on the floor. Every day. His name is Ted. He calls it clearing his throat." Daisy looked at me with an expression that I could not place. Something between amused and irritated. "Let the artist work, dear." She said. "And that is not the visual I want in my head." She stalked around the room, framing parts with her fingers. "I want sultry. I want dark. I want something that oozes passion and hunger and need." She said. "It's a dump. A dump with couches that are so nasty they make crunching sounds when you sit on them." I said. "It needs lighting. It needs ambiance. It needs to be perfect." "Perfect for what?" I asked. "This!" She said. Then she handed me a piece of paper. I scanned it. "Is this a shot list?" "Of course. You can't direct without one." "And everything on this-" I waved the sheet. "Is going to happen here?" "Of course." "Who is playing willing young co-ed?" I asked. "Me. I am the star of all my works." "And who is playing the hard and ready young stud?" "Well Cam, I was going to audition the boys," She said. And then that smile almost knocked me down. "but you're the only one here. So... are you up for it?" I started pulling off my pants. She put a hand on my chest. "Hold up cowboy. You've seen the shot list. Not until scene 3. Now help me set up." You might think a roller bag would only hold a small amount of film equipment. You would be wrong. You might think that setting up lights, area mikes, a camera, and a bunch of shit that I do not have names for would be difficult with an erection. You would be right. But, given the proper motivation, all work can be rewarding. "I've never seen anyone work so fast." She said. "I'm a lover of film." I said. "You know, I don't normally ask questions when an absurdly attractive woman asks me to make a porno with her-" "You get asked that a lot?" She said, as she was draping sheets over the couch. "More than I'd have ever thought." I said. "But why are we making a porno?" "Because I am an Omega Mu. And this is our annual scavenger hunt." She said. "This video should be worth 355 points, should you be able to keep your load in for every shot." "So, I'm just going to ask this." I said. I looked up and saw her fiddling with the camera. It took me a second to refocus from looking down her dress at her very impressive rack. She caught me looking, and smiled behind the viewfinder. "Why are you doing this at all. This is not me trying to scare you away, I am just really curious." She stopped for a second, and pulled a couple of wispy blonde strands from in front of her face to behind her ear. I don't know that I believe in any god, but if one exists he must be damn happy with his work here. "Do you know how competitive Omega Mu is? The girls there are driven to be great. They will walk off this campus and into lives that most people only dream of. And I'm a film major. They don't respect what I do. They don't understand it. Most of them can't even be bothered to stay awake during my films." She stepped close, so close I could smell strawberries and the faintest hint of excitement. "But they will stay awake for this one. By the time I'm done showing it to them they'll be sitting in puddles of their own juice, awkwardly fidgeting and looking for any excuse to get back to their rooms and get their stuck up snatches off. That room will absolutely stink of arousal and lust and need. And they will know that I am one hell of a filmmaker." My dick was threatening to leave my body and go into orbit. "Is the camera rolling? I need it to be rolling." I said. She pointed at the red light. "It's been rolling for the last five minutes. Take off your shirt." I took my shirt off so damn fast I nearly sprained my shoulders. "I don't have a script." "We'll improvise." She closed her eyes and leaned in. I laid my fingers on top of her hand, gliding them up her arm, to her shoulders. I traced her collarbone, then ran them up her neck, to her cheek. Her lips parted. I leaned in to meet them with my own. I felt a slight shudder as they touched, and I wondered if perhaps all her confidence masked a delicacy, a pure and innocent nature, uncorrupted by all the debauchery that surrounds her. Then I felt a firm hand against my chest. It shoved me on to the couch. I fell with no resistance. She walked up to me, put one leg up by my head and pulled up her dress, revealing absolutely no underwear. "You will lick the living shit out of my pussy. If you're lucky I'll let you lick my ass. And If you do a very good job at that I will let you put that monster trying to escape your jeans balls deep inside me." I am a terrible judge of character. That delicate flower ground her incredibly wet pussy into my face. I am not the smartest guy. And I am no actor. But I certainly take direction. I put my hands on her thighs to steady her, then teased her outer lips with my tongue, splitting them, letting them close, tasting her mix of sweat and natural lubrication. I pulled the inner lips between mine, tracing them up to the hard nub. I ran my lips against it, lightly at first, teasing it with my tongue. She rocked her hips into my face, grinding her clit against my lips. I sped up my tongue to meet her urgency, tightening my grip on her legs, pulling her into me. Her juices flowed all over my jaw, pooling on my chest. She lowered her hands to my head and pulled me in so tight I could barely breathe. "Faster you bastard! If I don't get off you don't get off." Being a gentleman, I obliged the lady. But I knew that speed alone was not going to be enough. I freed one of my hands and ran it between her legs. I took her clit between my lips and raced my tongue along it, feeling it pulse with her arousal. A feeling matched only with the untended arousal currently in my pants. "You can't go too hard with me. And you sure as hell aren't going hard enough." I am competitive. Ninety nine percent of the time it is a terrible flaw. This day, not so much. I found an extra gear and pulsed my tongue against her, moving so fast that I got sloppy, and was licking the whole of her pubis. I slipped a couple fingers into her depths, probing until I found the rough patch of her G-spot, then timed my strokes outside with those inside. "Fuck. Just keep doing that." She said. Then words became groans, moved to soft moans, quickly strung together and rising in pitch. I kept up a steady rhythm, feeling her body stiffen, her strong legs go taut, her breathing get ragged. "Fuck me." She shouted. "Fuck Me!" She pulled my head in hard, rubbing herself against me. Her clit ground against me, tracing a wet line on my lips. She gasped, then caught her breath. "Fuck" Her body went slack. I eased my lips off of her. Took my fingers out, running them along my tongue to capture the taste. I lowered her to the couch, then reached for my belt. She smiled. And I wanted her so badly that there was no terrible thing I would not have done. "Not yet. You're only halfway there. And I need more points." And with that she spread her legs, then pulled her knees in. Now, to be clear, at that point I'd have cut off my left arm to fuck her. So eating her ass was not going to be a problem. I dove right the fuck in. I kissed the cutest pinkest prettiest little asshole that I had ever seen. It was wet with her juices and my spit, and I could not help but run my lips upon the rim. She gasped when my lips touched, and it puckered tightly. I blew on it, seeing it shrink with the cold. I ran my tongue under it, watching it loosen as she got aroused. He hands drifted to her pussy, and she spread it apart with one, then ran two fingers through. A delicate strand of drool ran between her fingers and her pussy, and it was all I could do to not ram my tongue against her pretty pucker. My resolve lasted for about two seconds. Then she started grinding her wet fingertips on her clit and I started pushing my tongue against her. Probing for resistance, feeling her tense. I could hear her fingers, sloppily running, making the wet noises of sex and driving me out of my goddamn mind. She sped up and I pushed my tongue right against her flower. I'd read her rhythm, I waited for my moment, and when it came I pushed into her ass. "Jesus Fucking Christ!" She shouted. I didn't stop. It felt like a compliment. I ran my fingers into her again, easing in a couple, felling myself fill her, wanting so much to put more into her. She rocked herself back and forth, using me as a tool to get her off. I was happy with this arrangement. Tongue, fingers and mind were all synchronized as she took control. Her breathing sped up, but I kept my pace. Her rocking increased, her hungry pussy pulling my fingers in, but I was patient. I knew I would get what I wanted and she was about to get hers. "Don't. Fuck. This. Up." She said. Each word punctuated with a thrust. "I'm. Going. To. Cum." And as she said it I felt the signs. She bottomed out on my fingers, her wet pussy spasmed against them. Her ass rippled against my tongue, Her toes curled, and then I got a face full of what I can only assume was her ejaculate. Given what I had done to June it only felt fair. Daisy put both legs on the ground and stood up. Her dress fell back over her assets, robbing me of the wonderful view. "That was worth an extra 20 points. So I am very happy." She said. "I think it is time to make you very happy. Take off your pants." You can't rip off blue jeans. Denim is not a fabric that rips. But you can get them off so fast that short one high speed camera no one can tell the difference. "Stay on the couch." She said. She lifted one spaghetti strap and slowly pulled it over her shoulder. Then the other one. The dress fell noiselessly to the ground. She wore no bra. She didn't need one. Her breasts were as amazing as I had hoped, and the rest of her runner's body was more than I could possibly have dreamed. Taut muscle and soft flesh played in perfect harmony. She stepped towards me, putting one knee outside my legs, then the other. She lifted herself up on her knees, so that she could look down on me, her perfect breasts damn near poking my eyes out. "How badly do you want to fuck me." She said. I could feel all of the wet between her legs dripping on me. My dick twitched like a divining rod on the Mississippi. I looked into those amazing blue eyes and said "A lot." She smiled. "I'll fix that in editing." Then she lowered herself onto me. I wanted to thrust. To take her. To put my hands on her hips, give in to the animal inside me, and slam myself into that perfect wet pussy until I exploded deep within her. But I did not. It nearly killed me, but I kept my shit together. I wanted this to last as long as possible. I felt the lips slowly divide, taking in the head. There was no friction, just heat and wet. She put her forearms on my shoulder, leaned in close, pressed her chest against mine, and brought her lips to my ear. "I love the way you smell. Your sweat and my juices have me so fucking hot." I didn't say anything. I couldn't. She lowered herself a little more. I felt the first inch of me squeezed into her depths. "You want to take me. Use me. The way I used you." I groaned. Her tongue teased my ear. She pushed further, inviting more of me in. "I don't know how you're holding off. Am I not wet enough for you? Tight enough?" I said nothing. My concentration was all I had left. She slid down a bit, her wetness running down my shaft. "Or maybe you're not man enough to take what you want." I put my hands on her hips. Put my lips to her ears. And I stage whispered, loud enough for the camera to hear. "You talk too much." My hips rose. Hers descended. She gasped, but I had been patient for too long. I lifted her, pulled out, then pushed back in. I lifted one arm around her back and pulled her close to me, feeling those tremendous breasts push against me, feeling the muscles in her back tighten. "You're going to match me, stroke for stroke. You are going to match my pace, you are going to match my enthusiasm, and I swear to god you are going to cum with me. I have done everything you wanted. Everything you told me to do. And I am going to fuck the shit out of you." She stopped. And I was struck with terror that I had overplayed my hand. But that smile, dear lord that smile. "I knew you had it in you tiger." She lowered herself to meet me. We started slow, with her walls teasing every bit of me. Each deliberate thrust brought with it a host of mind bending sensations. I locked eyes with her. Saw her passion and need as she pulled me in. Watched her groan every time I bottomed out, watched her grind her pubic bone against mine, trying to get all the stimulation she could. I could have gone forever, but she was a performer. Her pace quickened. I sped up to match. I lowered my head to her breast. She pulled me in, forcing it into my mouth, responding to the suction, the delicate nibble,. My speed increasing, my erection an iron bar straining inside her. Her moans getting louder, my excitement reaching a crest. All pretense of erotic sex had been abandoned. I pushed myself into her with violence, she responded in kind. Our bodies slapped against each other. My hands were gripping her hard runner's ass for dear life, her nails dug into my back. The only word I could say was fuck. The only thing I could do was fuck, All I ever wanted to do was fuck. But all the servicing of this woman had taken its toll. No man could resist her for long. "Now cum for me." I said. I don't know who came first. I came so hard I blacked out for a second, every sense shutting down so that I could bust the world's most righteous nut. She had taken me all the way into her, so deep I could feel every bit of the inside of her, and it was all squeezing me as she pulsed through her own orgasm. I don't know if I've ever cum more. I'm not sure I could. After a minute she stretched out, still impaled on me, giving me an eyeful that I will take with me to the grave and far beyond. "And cut." She said. Then she got up and walked to the camera. Everything I'd left behind was running down her leg and she did not mind at all. "Are you sure you've never acted before? You seem like a natural." "Is this pillow talk?" "No. A direct question." "Ahh. No. Not since I was a tree in the 3rd grade musical." She finished packing the camera. "You must have been one hell of a tree. Now help me clean up." I broke down the lights and the mics. I stole every glance I could. If this was going to be the best night of my life I wanted to remember every bit of it. Far too quickly we were packed. She pulled on her dress. I pulled on my clothes. She turned to leave. "Daisy. stop." I said. "Can I give you my number? In case of rewrites or something?" Daisy reached into her bag, and pulled something out. The she hit me with that smile one last time. "Here's my card. I'll be honest, your ear for dialogue is shit, so you will in no way be involved with a rewrite." She said. "But, if you are ever looking to fuck again, my cell is on the back." I stood stock still and watched her walk away. Shock does terrible things to a man. Then I spent the next fifteen minutes memorizing her phone number, because I am not a complete idiot. The day may come when I forget who I am, where I came from, and everything I have ever cared about. And on that day will still be able to recite all 10 fucking digits because some shit is too damn important to forget.  By QuothTheRamen for Literotica

One lowly pledge must satisfy the girls of Omega U. By QuothTheRamen - Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Life as a lowly pledge The day I went to college I thought I had cleaned my last floor. Washed my last dish. Scrubbed my last toilet. I left home after five years too many of flipping burgers and dealing with other people's shit. I was done trying to make a bunch of assholes happy. It took all of one day in a frat to realize I was wrong. The world was filled with unhappy assholes, and they were all my problem."Pledge Needledick! Make sure the floor shines." Beko was the frat vice president. He was about as funny as a cold sore. But he was also a linebacker, so people generally felt obligated to laugh. "It's Cam." I said. "It's Cam what?" "It's Cam, Sir." I said. I did not sigh. It was difficult. "It's pledge Needledick now." Beko woofed. Like a dog. A retarded dog. "We are getting fucked up!" Shaun slid himself between Beko and me, smooth as anyone I had ever seen. "What Beko is trying to say is that today is your night on the chore rota Cam. All pledges take a turn." Shaun was the frat president. And he was probably going to be a senator. "No. I get it. Shit needs cleaning." I said. "Right. Spirit of brotherhood. Don't wait up." Shaun said. "Beko! What have I told you about pissing on the floor?" And, with the sloppy zip of a zipper, I was alone. I had the place to myself, piles of shit to clean up, and a fresh puddle of piss to mop. "I am so fucking stupid." I said. I pledged the frat because Alpha Nu Alpha Lambda was the place for business majors. Just this chapter alone had produced three Fortune 500 CEOs, a couple of Silicon valley royalty, and so many millionaires they stopped keeping track. And business is all about who you know. A poor boy from the shit end of the city who does not know anyone needs to change that. And so I did. And now I was picking up empties while the future leaders of the free world were getting shitfaced and laid. You would think that with so many rich bastards they would have a maid. I was well into the second hour and elbow deep in the world's most disgusting toilet when the doorbell rang. I didn't get up. I just kept scrubbing. Whoever they were here for it certainly was not me. The bell rang again. And again. And then someone starting pressing it like they'd been duct taped to the damn button and then had a seizure. I ripped off my yellow gloves, jogged to the door and opened it. "What the fu-" I started. I did not end that sentence. I saw where it was going, flagged it down, and gave it directions to a new and better place. "How can I help you?" I said. Is this because I am a good person? The kind of person who does not tear people's heads off for no reason? Of course not. I worked in fast food. It was because, on the other side of the door, stood a very pretty young Asian girl in heels, a knit skirt, and a sorority sweater so tight that it had to have been drawn on her. The girl blinked the blink of the slightly high, or the very dumb. "I'm here for Beko." she said. Dumb it is. "He's out right now. I can tell him you called." I said. She blinked again. "I didn't call. I walked." "Right. No. Totally get that. Do you want to leave a message?" "Nope. I want to see Beko." "Tell you what. Come on in. We'll call him." I said. "Let me just wash my hands." She walked in and, with a clear familiarity, walked over to our least disgusting couch and sat on it. I ran to the sink, scrubbed up and came out. Then I called Beko from my cell. He answered on the first ring. "Beko, it's me, Cam. I have a--" I looked at the Asian space cadet quizzically. "June." she said. "--June here to talk to you." "Needledick! I was watching porn on my phone." Beko shouted. Over what must have been one hell of a party. "Now I just see your stupid Needledick name on my phone. Hang up so I can see some titties." So I hung up. "He's very busy right now." I said. "Is there anything I can do for you?" "Is Joe here?" "No. Just me." "Louis?" "No. He's out." Ryan?" "No. I am the only one here. I am the only Alpha in the house. There is just me. I see you thinking of another name. But he is not here either. I assure you, I am the Alpha and the Omega of people in this house." She looked confused. "No. I am the Omega. Omega Chi Upsilon Mu." She said. Now I was confused. Omega was almost a honor society. It was not your run of the mill sorority. "Pardon?" "I'm an Omega." She smiled. "And I am high as fuck." Ahh. So not dumb. Just really high. "Right. Well is there anyone else you need me to call? I don't want to blow you off, but I still have a lot of cleaning to do." I said. "I want to blow you off." "Is that a pot joke?" "No." She stopped, wrinkled up in a frown, then continued. "At least I don't think so. I need to blow an Alpha." "And why is that?"" "Scavenger hunt. You guys are worth forty points for a facial." "I'm sorry?" Let's step back for a moment. Time to create a Venn diagram. One circle will be "Woman who have sucked my dick." Small circle. Not empty. Filled with women to whom I am forever grateful. Let's have the other circle be "Women who are so fucking hot that I silently apologize after jerking off to their memory." Now, and I want to be totally clear on this, these circles do not intersect. Not even a little. They don't even get written out on the same piece of paper. Imagine too, a circle labelled "Women who let me cum on their face." This circle was empty. Back to the moment. "Tonight is the Omega Scavenger hunt. And I wanna win it." she said. Her smile was tempting me to make a bad decision. "So what do I do?" "Take off your pants. But leave on the Alpha sweatshirt." I reached for my belt, and then years of self-preservation kicked in. "Wait, Beko's not your boyfriend is he? Because he would have an easy time killing me and I would have a hard time stopping him." "Nope. He just has a nice dick." Which is exactly not what I want to think about when I next see Beko. I dropped my pants. Then I closed my eyes and waited for the someone to tell me that this was a terrible terrible prank. What I felt instead was warm breath across my the head of my dick. I cautiously opened one eye, then the other. She'd taken one of the couch cushions and put it on the floor in front of me. She was kneeling on it, her face just inches away from me. I was not hard. But that was not going to last. She traced her fingers up my thigh, sliding them slowly up, I bit my lip as I watched her. Her hand slid under my balls, then she ran a finger from my ass all the way to where they hung. All the while her hot breath surrounded me. I'd never watched myself get hard before, but it was happening so fast it barely registered. One minute her hand lightly cupped my balls and the next I am so damn hard that it almost slaps me in the stomach. "You like this?" She asked, as she ran her soft cheek along the head. "I'm neither dead nor gay, so yes." "Good." She said. The she wrapped her hand around the base of my shaft, holding it up. She leaned in and alternated between soft kisses and quick licks as she worked her way up. I balled my fists so hard that my nails dug into my palms. She teased and licked her way up, until her mouth was just at the head. Then she looked up at me, winked, and took me in her mouth. I'd had my dick sucked before. I thought it was awesome. It turns out that everyone who came before was just shit. She ran her tongue under my shaft, her mouth wet and ready. She swirled it against the hole at the tip, then leaned in, taking inch after inch. She did not slow. She did not stop. She took me in until her nose was flush against me, her chin touching my balls. She winked again. And then slowly, slowly, ever so slowly, she let me out. Her tongue made every inch of my man flesh electric. I reached down to her head, but she just brushed me off, then waved her finger in the classic naughty naughty gesture. Chastened, I put my hands behind my head and groaned. She firmly wrapped one hand around my root, and with the other cupped my balls, pressing a finger against my taint. She leaned forward again, taking me until her lips reached her hand. She began to rock her head back and forth, slowly at first. Her hand stayed with her lips, making every rock a long slow stroke of my dick, with the wet miracle of her mouth keeping me on edge. I took a deep breath as she started speeding up. Every downstroke felt my cock getting wetter, every upstroke felt my balls getting tighter. Her free hand was rubbing my taint, teasing my balls, and driving me crazy. I felt my hips go loose as I adopted her rhythm. Pulling away when she pulled away. Pushing in as she pushed in. I felt myself in the back of her throat, then running the length of her tongue. She kept a wet suction that gave me no respite. I felt myself pushing the pace now. Seeing her, so gorgeous, so sexy so fucking good at sucking a cock was too much. I pushed so hard she gagged. I pulled out so far the cool air hit me. But she did not stop. Her grip on my shaft tighten. She slammed me into her mouth as if daring me to try to stop. I was off balance, standing on my toes, my dick falling into her amazing mouth, my eyes seeing stars. "Fucking Christ! I'm going to blow!" I said. She sped up, moving so fast she got blurry. I felt my load begin, rumbling from the depths of me up my shaft. She felt it too, and right when it was about to escape she learned back, her hands continuing to work the shaft. I exploded on to her. On her cheek, her perfect nose, her hair. And she put her face right against me. Pulling me still, milking every last drop onto her skin. I was in love. So it is a clear understatement when I say I was surprised when the flash went off. "Did you just take a selfie?" I said. "Yep. Gotta get the points." She said. "I forgot about that." And I had. This was clearly a one-time thing. But at least I closed the Venn diagram. "So June, could you send me that?" "Nope." "Right." I reached for the paper towel roll that remained from my cleaning and offered it to her. "Towel?" I said. She smiled the gorgeous smile, buried under layers of my spunk. "Nope. I'll wear it out. Extra five points." And, just like that, she was gone. It was the best thirty minutes of my life so far. Of course, by the end of the night it would be the third best thirty minutes of my life. One lowly pledge must make her nasty video dreams come true. I found pizza under a couch. Not a pizza box. No box to be found. Not a single slice, but instead eight slices, composing a whole pizza of what I can only assume was pepperoni pizza, all perfectly arranged under the couch. Like it was being delivered to hungry mice whose ordering reach far exceeds their grasp. Or a bunch of morons with the munchies. Fifty/fifty. I had been tempted, only briefly, to leave the pizza out as a reminder to my frat brothers to clean up after themselves. But, given the bags of filth I trucked out to the dumpster, this cause was lost. I tossed the pizza in with the condom wrappers, used dental floss, and random crusty Kleenex that so recently littered our floors. You might think that I would be unhappy, cleaning up after a couple dozen very well connected douchebags. And, on a normal night, you would be right. But this was not a normal night. This was a night in which the mere fact of my association with Alpha Nu Alpha Lambda resulted in me getting the kind of blow job reserved for men with excessive body hair, giant cigars, and private armies. A night in which one of the hottest women I had ever seen allowed me to not only cover a tile in ethnic bingo (Row: BJ, Column: Asian. Bingo!) but also had me paint her face like a drunken Jackson Pollack. So while I may be the lowest man on a very mangy totem pole, I was also a man who had had my pole waxed. I was in a post orgasm glow, and oscillated between absolute disbelief that I might ever be so lucky, and a profound fear that the best thing that might ever happen to me had already happened. It was deep into one of these swings into self-doubt, and deep into a pile of what I could only assume were once out dishes, that the doorbell rang. It may seem crazy to you that I did not run to the door. It may seem crazy to you that I did not even leave the dishes behind. But, to be clear, you are three hundred words into chapter two. I assumed I was living in the boring epilogue of chapter one. So I did not walk to the door. And I did not run. Instead I picked up the next sorry excuse for a plate and started scrubbing. The doorbell rang again. With feeling. And then again. Eventually I realized that whomever was pushing it was actually tapping out a beat. A lively bossa nova thing. And they were not going anywhere. No night is perfect. I put the dish down, dried off my hands, and walked to the door. The persistent beat made my feet want to run, but I kept them under control. I stood in front of the door, took a deep breath, and opened it. "Welcome to Alpha Nu, how can I help you?" It was dark outside. But she was very blonde. The kind of blonde that happens when you have hair bleach and a wandering mind. The hair framed a lovely face, ghostly pale. And now I was staring. She smiled, a thousand watt thing. "You can help me by getting out of my way." "What?" "'How can you help me?'" She said. "You just asked. Then you got stupid." "Right. No. Come in. I'm Cam." I moved out of the way She pushed past me, pulling a giant roller bag. "I'm Mary. But everyone calls me Daisy." "Why is that?" She hit me with the smile again. "Because I tell them to." She put the bag down, then spun around like a Julie Andrews on a German mountain. This caused her slightly modest sundress to become much less modest, and gave me a lovely view of a pair of runner's legs. And I was staring again. "This will have to do. It's funny, because the place looks so classy outside. All bricks and ivy. Then you come in and it looks like someone threw up on the floor." She said. "Someone does throw up on the floor. Every day. His name is Ted. He calls it clearing his throat." Daisy looked at me with an expression that I could not place. Something between amused and irritated. "Let the artist work, dear." She said. "And that is not the visual I want in my head." She stalked around the room, framing parts with her fingers. "I want sultry. I want dark. I want something that oozes passion and hunger and need." She said. "It's a dump. A dump with couches that are so nasty they make crunching sounds when you sit on them." I said. "It needs lighting. It needs ambiance. It needs to be perfect." "Perfect for what?" I asked. "This!" She said. Then she handed me a piece of paper. I scanned it. "Is this a shot list?" "Of course. You can't direct without one." "And everything on this-" I waved the sheet. "Is going to happen here?" "Of course." "Who is playing willing young co-ed?" I asked. "Me. I am the star of all my works." "And who is playing the hard and ready young stud?" "Well Cam, I was going to audition the boys," She said. And then that smile almost knocked me down. "but you're the only one here. So... are you up for it?" I started pulling off my pants. She put a hand on my chest. "Hold up cowboy. You've seen the shot list. Not until scene 3. Now help me set up." You might think a roller bag would only hold a small amount of film equipment. You would be wrong. You might think that setting up lights, area mikes, a camera, and a bunch of shit that I do not have names for would be difficult with an erection. You would be right. But, given the proper motivation, all work can be rewarding. "I've never seen anyone work so fast." She said. "I'm a lover of film." I said. "You know, I don't normally ask questions when an absurdly attractive woman asks me to make a porno with her-" "You get asked that a lot?" She said, as she was draping sheets over the couch. "More than I'd have ever thought." I said. "But why are we making a porno?" "Because I am an Omega Mu. And this is our annual scavenger hunt." She said. "This video should be worth 355 points, should you be able to keep your load in for every shot." "So, I'm just going to ask this." I said. I looked up and saw her fiddling with the camera. It took me a second to refocus from looking down her dress at her very impressive rack. She caught me looking, and smiled behind the viewfinder. "Why are you doing this at all. This is not me trying to scare you away, I am just really curious." She stopped for a second, and pulled a couple of wispy blonde strands from in front of her face to behind her ear. I don't know that I believe in any god, but if one exists he must be damn happy with his work here. "Do you know how competitive Omega Mu is? The girls there are driven to be great. They will walk off this campus and into lives that most people only dream of. And I'm a film major. They don't respect what I do. They don't understand it. Most of them can't even be bothered to stay awake during my films." She stepped close, so close I could smell strawberries and the faintest hint of excitement. "But they will stay awake for this one. By the time I'm done showing it to them they'll be sitting in puddles of their own juice, awkwardly fidgeting and looking for any excuse to get back to their rooms and get their stuck up snatches off. That room will absolutely stink of arousal and lust and need. And they will know that I am one hell of a filmmaker." My dick was threatening to leave my body and go into orbit. "Is the camera rolling? I need it to be rolling." I said. She pointed at the red light. "It's been rolling for the last five minutes. Take off your shirt." I took my shirt off so damn fast I nearly sprained my shoulders. "I don't have a script." "We'll improvise." She closed her eyes and leaned in. I laid my fingers on top of her hand, gliding them up her arm, to her shoulders. I traced her collarbone, then ran them up her neck, to her cheek. Her lips parted. I leaned in to meet them with my own. I felt a slight shudder as they touched, and I wondered if perhaps all her confidence masked a delicacy, a pure and innocent nature, uncorrupted by all the debauchery that surrounds her. Then I felt a firm hand against my chest. It shoved me on to the couch. I fell with no resistance. She walked up to me, put one leg up by my head and pulled up her dress, revealing absolutely no underwear. "You will lick the living shit out of my pussy. If you're lucky I'll let you lick my ass. And If you do a very good job at that I will let you put that monster trying to escape your jeans balls deep inside me." I am a terrible judge of character. That delicate flower ground her incredibly wet pussy into my face. I am not the smartest guy. And I am no actor. But I certainly take direction. I put my hands on her thighs to steady her, then teased her outer lips with my tongue, splitting them, letting them close, tasting her mix of sweat and natural lubrication. I pulled the inner lips between mine, tracing them up to the hard nub. I ran my lips against it, lightly at first, teasing it with my tongue. She rocked her hips into my face, grinding her clit against my lips. I sped up my tongue to meet her urgency, tightening my grip on her legs, pulling her into me. Her juices flowed all over my jaw, pooling on my chest. She lowered her hands to my head and pulled me in so tight I could barely breathe. "Faster you bastard! If I don't get off you don't get off." Being a gentleman, I obliged the lady. But I knew that speed alone was not going to be enough. I freed one of my hands and ran it between her legs. I took her clit between my lips and raced my tongue along it, feeling it pulse with her arousal. A feeling matched only with the untended arousal currently in my pants. "You can't go too hard with me. And you sure as hell aren't going hard enough." I am competitive. Ninety nine percent of the time it is a terrible flaw. This day, not so much. I found an extra gear and pulsed my tongue against her, moving so fast that I got sloppy, and was licking the whole of her pubis. I slipped a couple fingers into her depths, probing until I found the rough patch of her G-spot, then timed my strokes outside with those inside. "Fuck. Just keep doing that." She said. Then words became groans, moved to soft moans, quickly strung together and rising in pitch. I kept up a steady rhythm, feeling her body stiffen, her strong legs go taut, her breathing get ragged. "Fuck me." She shouted. "Fuck Me!" She pulled my head in hard, rubbing herself against me. Her clit ground against me, tracing a wet line on my lips. She gasped, then caught her breath. "Fuck" Her body went slack. I eased my lips off of her. Took my fingers out, running them along my tongue to capture the taste. I lowered her to the couch, then reached for my belt. She smiled. And I wanted her so badly that there was no terrible thing I would not have done. "Not yet. You're only halfway there. And I need more points." And with that she spread her legs, then pulled her knees in. Now, to be clear, at that point I'd have cut off my left arm to fuck her. So eating her ass was not going to be a problem. I dove right the fuck in. I kissed the cutest pinkest prettiest little asshole that I had ever seen. It was wet with her juices and my spit, and I could not help but run my lips upon the rim. She gasped when my lips touched, and it puckered tightly. I blew on it, seeing it shrink with the cold. I ran my tongue under it, watching it loosen as she got aroused. He hands drifted to her pussy, and she spread it apart with one, then ran two fingers through. A delicate strand of drool ran between her fingers and her pussy, and it was all I could do to not ram my tongue against her pretty pucker. My resolve lasted for about two seconds. Then she started grinding her wet fingertips on her clit and I started pushing my tongue against her. Probing for resistance, feeling her tense. I could hear her fingers, sloppily running, making the wet noises of sex and driving me out of my goddamn mind. She sped up and I pushed my tongue right against her flower. I'd read her rhythm, I waited for my moment, and when it came I pushed into her ass. "Jesus Fucking Christ!" She shouted. I didn't stop. It felt like a compliment. I ran my fingers into her again, easing in a couple, felling myself fill her, wanting so much to put more into her. She rocked herself back and forth, using me as a tool to get her off. I was happy with this arrangement. Tongue, fingers and mind were all synchronized as she took control. Her breathing sped up, but I kept my pace. Her rocking increased, her hungry pussy pulling my fingers in, but I was patient. I knew I would get what I wanted and she was about to get hers. "Don't. Fuck. This. Up." She said. Each word punctuated with a thrust. "I'm. Going. To. Cum." And as she said it I felt the signs. She bottomed out on my fingers, her wet pussy spasmed against them. Her ass rippled against my tongue, Her toes curled, and then I got a face full of what I can only assume was her ejaculate. Given what I had done to June it only felt fair. Daisy put both legs on the ground and stood up. Her dress fell back over her assets, robbing me of the wonderful view. "That was worth an extra 20 points. So I am very happy." She said. "I think it is time to make you very happy. Take off your pants." You can't rip off blue jeans. Denim is not a fabric that rips. But you can get them off so fast that short one high speed camera no one can tell the difference. "Stay on the couch." She said. She lifted one spaghetti strap and slowly pulled it over her shoulder. Then the other one. The dress fell noiselessly to the ground. She wore no bra. She didn't need one. Her breasts were as amazing as I had hoped, and the rest of her runner's body was more than I could possibly have dreamed. Taut muscle and soft flesh played in perfect harmony. She stepped towards me, putting one knee outside my legs, then the other. She lifted herself up on her knees, so that she could look down on me, her perfect breasts damn near poking my eyes out. "How badly do you want to fuck me." She said. I could feel all of the wet between her legs dripping on me. My dick twitched like a divining rod on the Mississippi. I looked into those amazing blue eyes and said "A lot." She smiled. "I'll fix that in editing." Then she lowered herself onto me. I wanted to thrust. To take her. To put my hands on her hips, give in to the animal inside me, and slam myself into that perfect wet pussy until I exploded deep within her. But I did not. It nearly killed me, but I kept my shit together. I wanted this to last as long as possible. I felt the lips slowly divide, taking in the head. There was no friction, just heat and wet. She put her forearms on my shoulder, leaned in close, pressed her chest against mine, and brought her lips to my ear. "I love the way you smell. Your sweat and my juices have me so fucking hot." I didn't say anything. I couldn't. She lowered herself a little more. I felt the first inch of me squeezed into her depths. "You want to take me. Use me. The way I used you." I groaned. Her tongue teased my ear. She pushed further, inviting more of me in. "I don't know how you're holding off. Am I not wet enough for you? Tight enough?" I said nothing. My concentration was all I had left. She slid down a bit, her wetness running down my shaft. "Or maybe you're not man enough to take what you want." I put my hands on her hips. Put my lips to her ears. And I stage whispered, loud enough for the camera to hear. "You talk too much." My hips rose. Hers descended. She gasped, but I had been patient for too long. I lifted her, pulled out, then pushed back in. I lifted one arm around her back and pulled her close to me, feeling those tremendous breasts push against me, feeling the muscles in her back tighten. "You're going to match me, stroke for stroke. You are going to match my pace, you are going to match my enthusiasm, and I swear to god you are going to cum with me. I have done everything you wanted. Everything you told me to do. And I am going to fuck the shit out of you." She stopped. And I was struck with terror that I had overplayed my hand. But that smile, dear lord that smile. "I knew you had it in you tiger." She lowered herself to meet me. We started slow, with her walls teasing every bit of me. Each deliberate thrust brought with it a host of mind bending sensations. I locked eyes with her. Saw her passion and need as she pulled me in. Watched her groan every time I bottomed out, watched her grind her pubic bone against mine, trying to get all the stimulation she could. I could have gone forever, but she was a performer. Her pace quickened. I sped up to match. I lowered my head to her breast. She pulled me in, forcing it into my mouth, responding to the suction, the delicate nibble,. My speed increasing, my erection an iron bar straining inside her. Her moans getting louder, my excitement reaching a crest. All pretense of erotic sex had been abandoned. I pushed myself into her with violence, she responded in kind. Our bodies slapped against each other. My hands were gripping her hard runner's ass for dear life, her nails dug into my back. The only word I could say was fuck. The only thing I could do was fuck, All I ever wanted to do was fuck. But all the servicing of this woman had taken its toll. No man could resist her for long. "Now cum for me." I said. I don't know who came first. I came so hard I blacked out for a second, every sense shutting down so that I could bust the world's most righteous nut. She had taken me all the way into her, so deep I could feel every bit of the inside of her, and it was all squeezing me as she pulsed through her own orgasm. I don't know if I've ever cum more. I'm not sure I could. After a minute she stretched out, still impaled on me, giving me an eyeful that I will take with me to the grave and far beyond. "And cut." She said. Then she got up and walked to the camera. Everything I'd left behind was running down her leg and she did not mind at all. "Are you sure you've never acted before? You seem like a natural." "Is this pillow talk?" "No. A direct question." "Ahh. No. Not since I was a tree in the 3rd grade musical." She finished packing the camera. "You must have been one hell of a tree. Now help me clean up." I broke down the lights and the mics. I stole every glance I could. If this was going to be the best night of my life I wanted to remember every bit of it. Far too quickly we were packed. She pulled on her dress. I pulled on my clothes. She turned to leave. "Daisy. stop." I said. "Can I give you my number? In case of rewrites or something?" Daisy reached into her bag, and pulled something out. The she hit me with that smile one last time. "Here's my card. I'll be honest, your ear for dialogue is shit, so you will in no way be involved with a rewrite." She said. "But, if you are ever looking to fuck again, my cell is on the back." I stood stock still and watched her walk away. Shock does terrible things to a man. Then I spent the next fifteen minutes memorizing her phone number, because I am not a complete idiot. The day may come when I forget who I am, where I came from, and everything I have ever cared about. And on that day will still be able to recite all 10 fucking digits because some shit is too damn important to forget.  By QuothTheRamen for Literotica

Struggling with Chemistry & Physics on the MCAT? You're not alone. Most students panic at ChemPhys passages, skip data figures, and waste time on equations. This episode breaks it all down: passage personalities, the TAUT method, and how to avoid the most common mistakesthat cost you points.Molly and Mike walk you through physics setups, titrations, spectroscopy, biochem-heavy passages, and even why OChem doesn't need to be scary. You'll also learn how to prioritize what to study, when to trust the passage over your memory, and why “slow is smooth, smooth is fast” for ChemPhys.

Seifried Zweigelt 2024, Nelson. RRP $20.00 A distinctive, ripe, and exuberant red berry fruit bouquet with suggestions of plums, then violets, blackberry, and boysenberry followed by lees and a delicate positive reduction. A nicely dry wine on the palate with flavours of boysenberry and tart plums, violet and spice. Taut and still developing with best drinking from 2026 through 2030+. The Food: Zweigelt is a cross from St. Laurent & Blaufränkisch developed in 1923 by Dr Friedrich "Fritz" Zweigelt. It has the softness and elegance from the St Laurant and robustness and backbone of acidity and tannins from the Blaufrankish. This means the wine will work rather well with foods that a little vigour, but not too much. My suggestion is therefore a venison sausage with an onion jam and side of lyonnaise potatoes. Higher quality venison sausage has both and earthy quality and meaty quality without being gamy, there's always a little fat layer in the sausage as well. So the Zweigelt uses it's St Laurant parent as the contrasting fruity side to the earthiness and the Blaufrankish parent as the contrast and deeper fruit flavours to the fatty side. The wine is also softened by the cream used in the potatoes. The Season: 2024 Nelson had a very good growing season in 2024. There was expectation for an El Niño year —there was 3 La Niñas in a row— however it was a hot, dry summer season. It gave growers a great flowering set and yields were predicted to be high. So overall, a great season – there was however a frost event, but any damage was mitigated by the plants reactive repair mechanism. Truth is there was some variability across the region, yet I do not think wine drinkers will have noticed anything at all. LISTEN ABOVE See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Stop brute-forcing science passages. In this 520+ strategy guide, we show you how top scorers read slower, map smarter, and mine “testable info” then fly through questions. You'll learn the TAUT framework for figures (Title, Axes, Units, Trends), what not to do (over-highlighting, skipping figures), and a repeatable plan you can use on every Bio/Biochem, Chem/Phys, and Psych/Soc passage.Want to learn more? Shoot us a text at 415-855-4435 or email us at podcast@jackwestin.com!

Kultūros temų apžvalga spaudos puslapiuose.Vilniuje veikia paroda „Pašnipinėkim: namai ir istorijos Šnipiškėse“. Kokias istorijas atskleidžia ši paroda ir kodėl Šnipiškes galime laikyti ypatingu rajonu? Pasakoja Vesta Vitkutė.Ryčio Skamarako parengta užsienio kultūros naujienų apžvalga.Trisdešimtasis Pažaislio muzikos festivalis įžengė į paskutinį programos mėnesį. Ar atsiliepė kokybei sumažintas finansavimas? Pokalbis su festivalio projektų kuratore Lina Krėpštaite.Menininkė Gabija Grušaitė buvusiame pramoniniame pastate Sarių seniūnijoje rengia vienos dienos meninę instaliaciją „Ferma“. Pokalbis su kūrėja.Lietuvių genomas yra senas, unikalus ir prisitaikęs. Taip teigia Vilniaus universiteto mokslininkai, nuskaitę visą lietuvio genomą. Apie mūsų protėvius medžiotojus- rinkėjus, apie tai, kodėl dalis žmonių netoleruoja laktozės ir kaip šis atradimas gali padėti nustatyti polinkį į ligas – pokalbis su VU Medicinos fakulteto vyresniąja mokslo darbuotoja doc. Alina Urnikyte.Kolekcininkas Darius Mikalajūnas išleido knygą „Lietuvos Respublikos Prezidentai tarpukario nuotraukose“. Autorių kalbina Marius Eidukonis.Du tenorai Deividas Norvilas-Deivis ir Rafailas Karpis pristatė pirmą bendrą kūrinį – linksmą, autoironišką, daug fizinės ištvermės pareikalavusį dainos vaizdo klipą „2 METRAI“. Pokalbis su duetu.Ved. Jolanta KryževičienėVU nuotr.

Dalies savivaldybių gyventojai gavo perspėjimus, kad jų žemė pateko į nenaudojamos ir apleistos žemės sklypų sąrašą. Į tokius sąrašus kai kurios žemės galėjo patekti dėl to, kad žemės sklypas apaugęs sumedėjusiais augalais, jame kaupiamos šiukšlės statybinės atliekos ar nešienaujama žolė. Šiems gyventojams gresia padidintas žemės mokesčio tarifas.Rubrikoje „ Aktualus klausimas“ - kur atostogaujate, kai Vakarų Europoje karščiai, o Rytų ir Vidurio Europoje liūtys?Šią savaitę pasaulis mini trisdešimtąsias Srebrenicos genocido metines. 1995 m. liepos 11d. Bosnijos serbų pajėgos įžengė į Jungtinių Tautų saugumo zona laikytą miestą ir per trumpą laiką nužudė daugiau nei 8 tūkst. bosnių musulmonų vyrų ir berniukų. Praėjus trims dešimtmečiams nuo tragedijos, maždaug tūkstančio aukų palaikai vis dar nėra rasti.Nerimsta aistros dėl Švietimo mokslo ir sporto ministerijos sprendimo visiems abiturientams prie rezultatų pridėti po 10 taškų. Tiek taškų pridėta visiems abiturientams prie visų egzaminų rezultatų, išskyrus lietuvių kalbos ir literatūros egzaminą. Kartu tai reiškia, kad į aukštąsias mokyklas, kur stojant būtinas matematikos egzaminas, įstoti galės daugiau abiturientų. Ką apie tai mano pačios aukštosios mokyklos?LRT radijas tęsia vasaros keliones po šalies pasienio miestus bei miestelius. Šįkart į kelionę leidosi kolegė Sandra Vilimaitė, kuri apsilankė pasienyje su Baltarusija esančiame Didžiasalyje.Ved. Rūta Kupetytė

LRT RADIJO laidoje „Lietuvos diena“ – Vytauto Didžiojo universiteto profesoriaus Gintauto Mažeikio komentaras.

•Gesellschafts-Satire• Es hat geklappt, Familie Wüthrich taut auf! Aus flüssigem Stickstoff, in dem ihre Leichen konserviert waren. Doch leider ist die Welt im Jahr 2150 deutlich weniger paradiesisch als erhofft. Von Nina Meyer und Felix Engstfeld WDR 2025 www.wdr.de/k/hoerspiel-newsletter Von Nina Meyer und Felix Engstfeld.

The Author Events Series presents Katie Kitamura | Audition: A Novel REGISTER In Conversation with Adam Dalva One woman, the performance of a lifetime. Or two. An exhilarating, destabilizing Möbius strip of a novel that asks whether we ever really know the people we love. Two people meet for lunch in a Manhattan restaurant. She's an accomplished actress in rehearsals for an upcoming premiere. He's attractive, troubling, young-young enough to be her son. Who is he to her, and who is she to him? In this compulsively readable, brilliantly constructed novel, two competing narratives unspool, rewriting our understanding of the roles we play every day – partner, parent, creator, muse – and the truths every performance masks, especially from those who think they know us most intimately.  Taut and hypnotic, Audition is Katie Kitamura at her virtuosic best. Katie Kitamura is the author of four previous novels, most recently A Separation and Intimacies, which was longlisted for the National Book Award and the PEN/Faulkner Award and was a finalist for a Joyce Carol Oates Prize. She is a recipient of the Rome Prize in Literature, a Lannan fellowship, and many other honors, and her work has been translated into twenty-one languages. She teaches in the creative writing program at New York University. Adam Dalva's writing has appeared in The New Yorker, The Paris Review, and The New York Review of Books. He serves on the board of the National Book Critics Circle and is a Contributing Fiction Editor of The Yale Review. The 2024/25 Author Events Series is presented by Comcast. Because you love Author Events, please make a donation when you register for this event to ensure that this series continues to inspire Philadelphians. Books will be available for purchase at the library on event night! All tickets are non-refundable. (recorded 4/9/2025)

Neiecietībai pret citas rases, tautības, reliģijas pārstāvjiem, pret citādajiem nav tikai lokāls raksturs, tā ir pasaules mēroga problēma. Kā izpaužas rasisms mūsdienu sabiedrībā un kā ar to cīnīties, vērtējam raidījumā Kā labāk dzīvot. Sarunājas Domeniko Graciozo, gvatemalietis, kurš Latvijā dzīvo jau vairāk nekā 15 gadus, Lingita Lina Bopulu, latviešu valodas skolotāja, pasniedzēja, kura nāk no jauktas ģimenes, kurā mamma ir no Latvijas, bet tēvs ir no Kongo, un meksikānis Havjers Garsija. Lingita Lina Bopulu ir baušķeniece un bieži saņem jautājumu - cik ilgi tu dzīvo Latvijā; no kurienes tu esi atbraukusi? "Un tad es parasti mēdzu jokot - es esmu no Bauskas. Tā jau arī ir, ja man Rīgā jautā, no kurienes esmu atbraukusi, esmu atbraukusi no Bauskas. Tagad jau es dzīvoju un strādāju Rīgā, bet dzimusi un augusi esmu Bauskā," par sevi stāsta Lingita Lina Bopulu. "Šobrīd esmu latviešu valodas skolotāja, gan ar bērniem skolā strādāju, gan arī ar pieaugušajiem dažādos valodu mācību centros, mācu latviešu valodu pārsvarā ārvalstu bērniem un arī pieaugušajiem, kuri nāk no dažādām valstīm. Man ir studenti no Baltkrievijas, Indijas, Vācijas, Polijas, Sīrijas, Vjetnamas un dažnedažādām valstīm. Un arī mans mērķis ir gan palīdzēt apgūt valodu, gan ieinteresēt par valodu un kultūru, gan arī emocionāli kaut kādā ziņā palīdzēt, jo es diemžēl zinu, kā tas ir, ka dažreiz varbūt cilvēki tevi negrib pieņemt kā savējo," atklāj Lingita Lina Bopulu. "Tā ir savā ziņā mana lielākā problēma, jo es arī esmu vienmēr centusies būt latviskāka par latvisku, varbūt arī tāpēc, ka man vienkārši ir bijis jāpierāda. Mans bakalaura grāds ir baltu filoloģijā, maģistra grāds - komunikācijas zinātnē, tomēr es arī cenšos runāt par latviešu valodu, piedalos dažādās konferencēs pasaulē. Esmu arī bijusi Amerikā un arī strādājusi ar diasporu dažādās valstīs, jo man ir svarīgi arī kaut kādā ziņā pierādīt, ka es esmu latviete, jo patiesībā man nav citas dzimtenes. Citreiz cilvēki saka: brauc uz savām mājām, bet es pirmo reizi sava tēva dzimtenē biju 19 gadu vecumā. Bieži vien cilvēki teica pirms tam - brauc uz savām mājām, un man bija tāds - uz Bausku? Tikai stundu 10 no Rīgas ar autobusu! Tā es smējos. Es esmu no Bauskas." Ja reizēm ir situācijas, ka cilvēki saka - brauc mājās, tad ir jāizkopj kaut kādi aizsardzības mehānismi, stratēģijas, kā reaģēt, jo tas ir saistīts ar nezināšanu un neizpratni, visticamāk. "Es ļoti bieži reaģēju ar kādu joku, kā jau es minēju, ka manas mājas ir Bauskā. Man arī citreiz ir jautāts, man šķiet, ka tas bija pagājušā gadā par Lieldienām. Man jautāja, vai manā kultūra svin Lieldienas? Es ar joku atbildu, protams, ka svin un es krāsoju olas, stāstu par visām latviešu tradīcijām. Cilvēkus pretī - tiešām?  Es saku - jā! Un tiešām jūsu kultūrā tā ir? Es saku - jā, manā latviešu kultūrā tā ir. Cilvēks pretī - kā latviešu kultūrā?  Es domāju, ka šeit arī varbūt ir tā atšķirība manā personīgajā pieredzē, tā kā esmu dzimusi šeit, es tiešām arī uzskatu sevi par latvieti, kā daļu no šīs sabiedrības, un ja man kāds saka - brauc mājās un jautā par manu kultūru, es arī atbildu par latviešu kultūru, jo tā arī ir mana kultūra," atzīst Lingita Lina Bopulu. "Es par tēva kultūru diemžēl zinu ļoti maz, jo tēvs aizbrauca uz dzimteni, kad man bija divarpus gadu, līdz ar to es tā arī uzskatu un arī atbildu par Latviju, par latviešu valodu, latviešu kultūru." Lingita Lina Bopulu ir studējusi arī Itālijā, Amerikā, Zviedrijā, un arī šajās zemēs, ja kāds jautā, no kurienes viņa ir, atbild - no Latvijas. "Ja man saka - brauc mājās, mana pirmā doma ir, ka man jābrauc uz Latviju, nevis uz kādu citu vietu. Tādā brīdī es neuztveru to personīgi, ja man pasaka - tu neesi itāliete. Jā, es neesmu itāliete, jo esmu latviete. Ja man kāds Latvijā pasaka, ka tu neesi latviete, tomēr es to uztveru diezgan personīgi, jo man nav nevienas citas dzimtenes," bilst Lingita Lina Bopulu. "Varbūt tas ir mīnuss vai citreiz arī pluss, ka tiešām man to atšķirību var redzēt. Tā kā mans tētis ir pavisam tumšas ādas krāsas un mamma ir ļoti gaiša, tas es esmu, kā saku, saulaini brūna pa vidu. Bet nereti kāds mani nosauc par melno un citādos ne pārāk jaukos vārdos. (..) Es esmu šeit dzimusi un augusi, un ja man kāds pasaka, ka neesmu, tad protams, man sāp par to sirds. Ja man kāds Itālijā pasaka, ka es neesmu itāliete, protams, ka tas varbūt kaut kā nav patīkami, bet jā, es neesmu itāliete, jo esmu latviete. Un ja man kāds jebkurā citā valstī jautā, no kurienes es esmu, es saku, ka esmu no Latvijas. Ja man Latvijā kāds jautā, no kurienes esmu, saku, ka esmu no Bauskas, un tad man patīk skatīties cilvēku reakciju."  

Kiekvieną savaitę jums kuriama 15min tinklalaidė apie Lietuvos ir pasaulio futbolą „Skrieja kamuolys“ šįkart daugiausiai dėmesio skiria Lietuvos futbolo rinktinės startui pasaulio čempionato atrankoje. Ne tik pagyros už kovą Varšuvoje ir charakterį Kaune, bet ir žvilgsnis į mūsų silpnybes. Komplimentai Gvido Gineičio smūgiui ir nerimas dėl Armando Kučio kelio. Pabaigoje – apie neišsipildžiusius Edgaro Jankausko norus, UEFA Tautų lygos rezultatus ir skirtingus naujųjų Anglijos bei JAV rinkinės vairininkų startus. Studijoje – 15min sporto žurnalistai Marius Bagdonas ir Aurimas Tamulionis bei „Go3“ komentatorius Karolis Dudėnas. 00:00 Kur suks palūkanos ir žurnalistų išvyka į Varšuvą 08:15 Lenkų vargai su Lietuvos rinktine 31:36 Taktiniai keitimai prieš suomius ir charakteris 55:42 Apie rinktinę kuriamas filmas, saga ir žolė 1:01:11 Neišsipildę E.Jankausko norai ir Tautų lyga 1:18:57 T.Tuchelio startas ir M.Pochettino pasakos

As the United States and Canada spar over tariffs, Karina Gould, a candidate for Canadian Prime Minister and former Canadian government House leader, explains Canada's retaliation against the Trump administration's tariffs and the Canadian frustration at the current relationship between neighbors. Then, pollster and political strategist Frank Luntz provides insights into swing voters 6 weeks into President Trump's second term. Luntz discusses the public's opinion on Elon Musk's influence in Washington and the economic messaging from the White House. Plus, some Senate Republicans push to codify DOGE cuts after meeting with Elon Musk, and automakers have one month's reprieve from tariffs on autos coming into the U.S. from Mexico and Canada.  Karina Gould - 14:02Frank Luntz - 25:44 In this episode:Frank Luntz, @frankluntzJoe Kernen, @JoeSquawkAndrew Ross Sorkin, @andrewrsorkinCameron Costa, @CameronCostaNY

Lietuvos kariuomenė, sulaukianti daug gyventojų užklausimų apie grėsmes, teigia, kad nestebi Rusijos pajėgų perdislokavimo prie mūsų sienų ir ragina įveikti savo baimes.JAV ir Rusija JAV ne tik rengia derybas su Rusija dėl karo Ukrainoje be Ukrainos, bet kartu su Rusija balsuoja prieš Jungtinių Tautų rezoliuciją, kurioje pasisakyta už Ukrainos teritorinį vientisumą. Kremlius taip pat paskelbė, kad mato potencialą bendradarbiauti su JAV vystant strategiškai svarbių retųjų elementų išteklius Rusijoje ir jos okupuotose teritorijose.Įtarimai „čekiukų“ bylose pareikšti Kaišiadorių rajono merui Šarūnui Čėsnai, Prienų rajono merui Alvydui Vaicekauskui ir keliems savivaldybių tarybų nariams. Įtarimai jiems pareikšti dėl sukčiavimo, piktnaudžiavimo ir dokumentų klastojimo.Šį sezoną mirtingumas nuo gripo didžiausias, skaičiuojant nuo 2009 m. Šiemet, anot Nacionalinio visuomenės sveikatos centro, registruota 41 mirtis. Specialistai sako, kad žmonės per vėlai kreipiasi į gydymo įstaigas.Įteikti Kilnaus sportinio elgesio apdovanojimai.Ved. Agnė Skamarakaitė

Susipažįstame su spaudos publikacijomis kultūros tema.Pasaulio kultūros įvykių apžvalga.Žemaičių dailės muziejus atvėrė savo erdves nežinomų, nematomų, dažnai atskirtyje gyvenančių menininkų darbams.Šiandien savo šešiasdešimties metų jubiliejų švenčia rašytojas Sigitas Parulskis.„Vykstant karui, reikia pritraukti daugiau studentų į menų fakultetą. Ne teisės, ne ekonomikos, o menų. Reikia užtikrinti, kad žmonės suprastų, jog menas yra būtinas. Būtinas tautos stiprybei ir išgyvenimui“ - sako Ukrainos kultūros ir informacijos ministerijos vadovas Mykola Tochytskyj.Kupiškyje gyvenantis ir kuriantis dailininkas Marius Skrupskis pernai inicijavo legalios gatvės meno sienos atsiradimą.Išleistas tremtinio Jono Janušausko „Igarkos dienoraštis“.Domanto Razausko muzikinės naujienos.Ved. Marius Eidukonis

7 Marathons, in 7 hintereinanderfolgenden Tagen, auf 7 Kontinenten? Marathon am Mount Everst? Wie solche und viele andere Träume zu erreichbaren und erreichten Zielen geformt werden. https://www.thomas-taut.com/ Jingle by Thomas Macher Podcasts findet ihr auf:SpotifyiTunes/Apple PodcastsGoogle Podcasts Social Media:FacebookInstagramYouTubeTwitter

Lietuva dar kartą paragino Minską stabdyti Astravo atominės elektrinės pirmojo ir antrojo blokų darbą bei išspręsti visas branduolinės saugos problemas. Netoli sienos su Lietuva pastatyta jėgainė šiuo metu dirba su trikdžiais, ignoruojant jos saugos problemas, pranešė Valstybinė atominės energetikos saugos inspekcija, prašymą perdavusi Baltarusijos ekstremaliųjų situacijų ministerijai.Kremlius pareiškė, kad JAV prezidento Donaldo Trumpo naujausiose pastabose dėl karo Ukrainoje nemato nieko naujo, ir pridūrė, kad Maskva yra pasirengusi „abipusiai pagarbiam“ dialogui su Vašingtonu. Rusiją šiemet gali sukrėsti didelės ekonomikos problemos, tokį scenarijų prognozuoja ekonomistai.Artėjant vyksiantiems Baltarusijos prezidento rinkimams, Jungtinių Tautų atstovas Vilniuje kalba, kad rinkimai nebus nei laisvi, nei sąžiningi.Per šiuos rinkimus siekiama pratęsti trisdešimy metų trunkantį Aleksandro Lukašenkos valdymo laikotarpį.Vidurio Lietuvoje fiksuota padidėjusi oro tarša kietosiomis dalelėmis. Pasak meteorologo Gyčio Valaikos, teršalai daugiausia atkeliauja iš Lenkijos pramoninių regionų, kur deginama anglis. Nurodoma, kad oro tarša turėtų sumažėti vėlai vakare ir rytoj. Vakar rytą padidėjusios valandinės kietųjų dalelių koncentracijos buvo užfiksuotos aplink Kėdainius ir Kauną.Ved. Madona Lučkaitė

Rytoj Vašingtone prisieks išrinktasis Jungtinių Valstijų prezidentas Donaldas Trumpas.Apklausa atskleidė, kad Trumpo sugrįžimas nerimą kelia tik senajame žemyne, likusioje pasaulio dalyje nuotaikos dėl naujosios Amerikos administracijos yra optimistinės.Prezidentas Gitanas Nausėda inicijavo tradiciją švęsti 1863–1864 metų Abiejų Tautų Respublikos tautų sukilimo atminimą.Ar Lietuva pajėgi suvaldyti medaus krizę?Ved. Madona Lučkaitė

Pastaruosius penketą metų Kauno senamiestyje iššūkį veja iššūkis. Pandemija, Kauno rotušės rekonstrukcija, Vilniaus gatvės rekonstrukcija, įvažiavimo apmokestinimas ir metų pabaigoje prasidėjusi Rotušės aikštės rekonstrukcija. Kaip tai paveikė kultūros įstaigas?Vilniaus trumpųjų filmų festivalyje pristatoma Kanados Pirmųjų Tautų kūrėjos Alanis Obomsawin retrospektyva ir Kvebeko regiono programa. Kuo išskirtinis šio regiono kinas ir ko galime pasimokyti iš jame vaizduojamų vietinių genčių pasipriešinimo sistemai istorijų?Nors M. K. Čiurlionio miestu laikomi Druskininkai, tačiau jo tikroji gimimo vieta mažai kam žinoma. Kur ji yra ir kaip žadama ją pažymėti?Neskubama iš gaisro niokojamo Los Andželo išgabenti meno kūrinius: neapsimoka?Kodėl Kinija bijo Mikės Pūkuotuko, o Rusija – ne? Tarptautinę Pūkuotuko dieną komentarą parašė filosofas Aldis Gedutis.Jei Jablonskis laikomas bendrinės lietuvių kalbos tėvu, tai Zinkevičius – esminis mūsų kalbos istorikas, akcentuoja profesorius Vytautas Kardelis. Šiemet kalbininkui Zigmui Zinkevičiui – 100.Kitą savaitę kino teatrus pasieks režisieriaus Igno Miškinio filmas „Pietinia kronikas“ pagal to paties pavadinimo Rimanto Kmitos romaną. Pats filmo autorius pripažįsta, kad itin laukia filmo premjeros Šiauliuose. O geriausiu įvertinimu laiko Rimanto Kmitos ir scenarijaus autorės Eglės Vertelytės ištartą frazę, kad filmas grįžo prie knygos.Ved. ir red. Indrė KaminckaitėKauno m. sav. nuotr.

Savaitinėje 15min laidoje apie futbolą „Skrieja kamuolys“ apžvelgiamos Lietuvos ir užsienio aktualijos. Šį kartą kalbame apie pasibaigusį A lygos čempionatą, netikėtą „Manchester City“ krizę Anglijoje ir baskų krašte užklimpusią „Barcelona“. Komanda – 15min žurnalistai Marius Bagdonas ir Aurimas Tamulionis bei „Go3” komentatoriai Rytis Vyšniauskas ir Karolis Dudėnas. 00:00 Intro 00:22 PS4 ar PS5 – ką rekomenduojate pirkti Bagdonui? 05:00 Rytis krepšinio aikštelėje – 2/19 07:55 Armando Kučio trauma ir laukiančio kovos Tautų lygoje 11:40 Žemaitiškas „Džiugo“ charakteris 16:38 „TransINVEST“ fiasko ir nežinomybė 23:10 „Sūduvos“ išsigelbėjimas Kaune 11:43 A lygos finišas ir šventės Telšiuose ir Marijampolėje 23:35 Mighty „Dainava“ ir Šiaulių desperacija 37:47 Legendinio Vežo išleistuvės 41:50 Europos įvykių apžvalga ir Ballon d‘Or balsavimas 44:11 „Žydrojo žiburėlio“ pabaiga? 55:10 Liverpulio jėga 59:43 „Arsenal“ problemos 1:01:40 Įsibėgėjęs „Manchester United“: ar liks Ruudas? 1:07:00 „Tottenham Hotspur“ bėdos 1:14:02 Centrinis turo mačas Londone 1:19:25 „Real“ pergalė ir „Barcos“ kluptelėjimas 1:26:48 „Bayern“ dominavimas 1:29:33 „Serie A“ reikalai ir Gvido Gineičio kėlinys Turino derbyje

Savaitinėje 15min laidoje apie futbolą „Skrieja kamuolys“ aptariami svarbiausi Lietuvos ir užsienio futbolo pasaulio įvykiai. Šią savaitę dėmesys krypsta į UEFA Tautų lygos kovas ir Lietuvos rinktinės pralaimėjimus prieš Kosovą ir Rumuniją. Laidoje dalyvauja – 15min žurnalistai Marius Bagdonas ir Aurimas Tamulionis bei „Go3“ komentatorius Karolis Dudėnas. 00:00 Intro 04:23 Tautų lyga ar Vyšniausko stovykla: už ar prieš? 13:48 Lietuva – Kosovas 20:27 Moterų futbolo intarpas 23:12 Vėl – apie Lietuva – Kosovas 40:24 Prisiminkime, kur mes buvome 47:30 Reikia nugalėt Kiprą 51:52 Lietuva – Rumunija ir baudiniai 1:11:37 Thomas Tuchelis gavo naują darbą arba anglams nėra nieko švento 1:18:53 Kylianas Mbappe ne rinktinėje, o Stokholme: beda po vieną nevaikšto 1:21:00 Eksperimentinės Vokietijos pergalės 1:26:32 Pasaulio čempionato atranka Pietų Amerikoje: Leo Messi dieviškas pasirodymas

Liko mažiau nei mėnuo iki dar vienos pasaulinės klimato konferencijos – COP29. Artėjant didžiausiam klimato renginiui – nuotaikos vėl nevienareikšmės. „Kaskart tikimės, kad įvyks stebuklas ir bus priimti sprendimai, bet susiduriam su vangiu valstybių noru keistis“, - sako klimato žurnalistė Rugilė Matusevičiūtė.Ne tik daug pažadų, bet mažai veiksmų sulaukia kritikos. Pastaraisiais metais COP vyksta naftos gavybos šalyse, o joms pirmininkauja buvę ar esami naftos įmonių vadovai - pasauliui siekiant mažinti iškastinio kuro naudojimą.Šiųmetės šeimininkės – Azerbaidžano – prezidentas pareiškė, kad net ir Baku vyksianti klimato konferencija nesutrukdys šaliai investuoti į „Dievo duotas“ dujas. Klausimų kyla ir dėl žmogaus teisių užtikrinimo. „Kai pasibaigs klimato konferencija, yra nerimo, kad vėl prasidės aktyvistų, pilietinės žiniasklaidos atstovų sulaikymai“, - sako Azerbaidžano žurnalistas Cavid Aga, kuriam dabar valdžia neleidžia išvykti iš šalies.Ko tikėtis, jei dar yra ko tikėtis, iš 29-osios Jungtinių Tautų klimato kaitos konferencijos? Apie tai – laidoje.Autorė Karolina Panto

In this special episode of the LARB Radio Hour and LARB Book Club, Medaya Ocher talks with Rumaan Alam about his new novel, Entitlement. We begin with the story of Brooke, a product of the upper middle class, who works for an aging billionaire looking for places to give away his fortune. Brooke comes to recognize all that she could do with a vast fortune of her own. Taut, unsettling, and alive to the seductive distortions of money, Entitlement is a riveting tale for our new gilded age, a story that confidently considers questions about need and worth, race and privilege, philanthropy and generosity, passion and obsession. It is a provocative, propulsive novel about the American imagination. Also Garth Greenwell, author of Small Rain, returns to recommend Michael Gorra's Portrait of a Novel: Henry James and the Making of an American Masterpiece.

Savaitinėje 15min laidoje apie futbolą „Skrieja kamuolys“ apžvelgiamos Lietuvos ir užsienio futbolo aktualijos. Šią savaitę dėmesys krypsta į Lietuvos rinktinės mačus su Kipru ir Rumunija bei kitas UEFA Tautų lygos batalijas. Laidos dalyviai – 15min žurnalistai Marius Bagdonas ir Aurimas Tamulionis bei „Go3“ komentatoriai Rytis Vyšniauskas ir Karolis Dudėnas. 00:00 Intro 00:38 Savaitės užklasinės veiklos 01:36 Bagdono tikrai žais Kaune, tikrai laimės prieš Kiprą 04:48 Kauno gėda 20:08 Apie paėmusius, bet neatėjusius 24:17 Turėjome laimėti prieš Kiprą 38:53 Nesusipratimai Bukarešte ir gera Lietuva 47:00 Jei Lietuvos rinktinėje žaistų Fellaini, o ne Antanavičius 49:32 (Ne)skandalingas VAR sprendimas 57:00 Toks tas mūsų lygis 1:01:45 Į gynybą bėgantis Dolžnikovas ir kiti nesisteminiai žaidėjai 1:11:27 Lietuvos U21 bandymų poligonas 1:07:14 Grandų iššūkiai UEFA Tautų lygoje

We ask a HOT BUTTON question - how old are you, how long have you been in a relationship, and how often do you have sex? and it floods our inbox! This, the tightest game of Think Fast, and more!

Listen in to Kimberly explaining the myriad reasons why Hilderbrand's smart dialogue, structuring, subplots and sense of place will make this show SO GOOD. With juicy details gleaned from lots of sleuthing, Kimberly will get you ready to watch on SEPTEMBER 5!

Featuring the brilliance of bassist Arthur Kell and his quartet; new solo music from legendary session drummer Brian Griffin aka BG & Coyote Radio; two tracks from the compilation “With Love” —a benefit for the children of Palestine; the electronic genuis of Jacob Bergson aka Taut; CDMX jams courtesy of The Poor Man's Atomic Bomb; and finally, the Happiness Bastards are back: new music from The Black Crowes.

Taut torsos, liberating cringe, and Britney is Christ! This week Michelle and Abigail watched this feel good chick flick and liked it. They take a quick dive into the films underestimated leading lady, banished female director, and genuinely moving moments

Get access to this entire episode as well as all of our premium episodes and bonus content by becoming a Hit Factory Patron for just $5/month.Film lover and zine-er Katie Stebbins joins to discuss Alan J. Pakula's smart, understated legal thriller Presumed Innocent featuring Harrison Ford in one of his finest performances. Taut, richly detailed, and featuring a considerable bench of "that guy" character actors (including John Spencer, Joe Grifasi, and Brian Dennehy), the film rises above the usual theatrics of the Grisham-era Hollywood legal drama with a crackerjack, densely-packed script that rewards upon repeat viewings while never sacrificing its immediacy.We discuss Harrison Ford in the early 90s, his contemporaneous swings into dramatic territory, and the considered decisions to separate the film's protagonist Rusty Sabich from audience's familiarity with the Harrison Ford action-hero brand. Then, we look at the film's complex narrative features (adapted from a book by lawyer-turned-novelist Scott Turrow) and how the film weaves in its rich details with respect for its audience's ability to connect the dots. Finally, we discuss the Extended Presumiverse - sequel novels and television adaptations of the further works within the Scott Turrow canon, including the most recent AppleTV+ series by David E. Kelley starring Jake Gyllenhaal and Peter Sarsgaard.Follow Katie Stebbins on Twitter.Check out Katie's Etsy for cool prints and film zines.....Our theme song is "Mirror" by Chris Fish

LAURA SIMS chats to Paul about her new novel HOW CAN I HELP YOU, libraries, the discipline of poetry, HOW CAN I HELP YOU: No one knows Margo's real name. Her colleagues and patrons at a small-town public library only know her middle-aged normalcy, congeniality and charm. They have no reason to suspect that she is, in fact, a former nurse with a trail of countless premature deaths in her wake. She has turned a new page, so to speak, and the library is her sanctuary, a place to quell old urges.That is, at least, until Patricia, a recent graduate and failed novelist, joins the library staff. Patricia quickly notices Margo's subtly sinister edge and watches her carefully. When a patron's death in the library bathroom offers a hint of Margo's mysterious past, Patricia can't resist digging deeper - even as this new fixation becomes all-consuming.Taut and compelling, How Can I Help You explores the dark side of human nature and the dangerous pull of artistic obsession.Laura Sims is the author of the critically acclaimed novel, Looker. An award-winning poet, Sims has published four poetry collections; her essays and poems have appeared in The New Republic, Boston Review, Conjunctions, Electric Lit, Gulf Coast, and more. She and her family live in New Jersey, where she works part-time as a reference librarian and hosts the library's lecture series.Recommendations Pet Catherine Chidgey Our Share of Night Marina EnriquezPaul Burke writes for Monocle Magazine, Crime Time, Crime Fiction Lover and the European Literature Network, Punk Noir Magazine (fiction contribution). He is also a CWA Historical Dagger Judge 2024. His first book An Encyclopedia of  Spy Fiction will be out in 2025.Music courtesy of  Guy Hale KILLING ME SOFTLY - MIKE ZITO featuring Kid Anderson. GUY HALEProduced by Junkyard DogCrime TimeCrime Time FM is the official podcast ofGwyl Crime Cymru Festival 2023CrimeFest 2023CWA Daggers 2023& Newcastle Noir 20232024 Slaughterfest, National Crime Reading Month, CWA Daggers

Robert Winter scheint ein Griesgram zu sein. Gerade als Finanzbeamter pensioniert, macht er sich, seiner Frau und seinen Mitmenschen das Leben schwer. Für Leichtigkeit, Freundlichkeit und Scherzereien hat er keine Zeit. Von WDR4 Funktion (Köln).

I have always loved art. I began my college career as an artist before moving to journalism, but my fascination has always remained with the visual arts. I love going to museums and when something attracts my attention, I often do deep research into the subject until I have reached satisfaction. One such personal pursuit has been my longtime passion for studying “The Juggler” (aka “The Conjurer”) by Hieronymus Bosch. I have given lectures on this painting to magicians and to museum docents. So imagine my great thrill to meet and to have this meaningful conversation with Dr. Steffen Taut from Dresden who is an expert in ancient magic art.Thanks to an introduction by Richard Hatch at the recent Magic Collectors Expo, we sat down to record a scholarly talk about our mutual passion and more. This should be like listening to a college professor after class talking with one of his students. I know you will learn a lot from this week's episode and I guarantee you'll enjoy it, or you get your money back! View fullsize View fullsize View fullsize View fullsize View fullsize View fullsize View fullsize View fullsize View fullsize During the first half of our conversation, Dr. Taut talks about Djedi, magician to Pharaoh Khufu (Cheops), as well as some of the “magic” he created (like severing and restoring the head of a bull, and switching heads between a duck and a chicken), plus how some of the court magicians were less than ethical in their conduct. Dr. Taut also goes into some detail about the Westcar Papyrus which has only been discovered some 200 years ago but tells us so much about Egyptian magic in Pharaoh's courts. The second part of our chat goes into the 1502 painting by Hieronymus Bosch known to us today as “The Conjurer.” There is a lot of symbolism in this painting and an interesting history of what was going on with the Church at the time that led to Bosch creating this painting. Download this podcast in an MP3 file by Clicking Here and then right click to save the file. You can also subscribe to the RSS feed by Clicking Here. You can download or listen to the podcast through Pandora and SiriusXM (formerly Stitcher) by Clicking Here or through FeedPress by Clicking Here or through Tunein.com by Clicking Here or through iHeart Radio by Clicking Here. If you have a Spotify account, then you can also hear us through that app, too. You can also listen through your Amazon Alexa and Google Home devices. Remember, you can download it through the iTunes store, too. See the preview page by Clicking Here. "In Praise of Folly" by Desiderius Erasmus as recommended by Dr. Steffen Taut in this week's episode. Click on the link to visit the Amazon store and support The Magic Word Podcast. “The Magical Life of Marshall Brodien” compliments of the Narrator, Dean Bootcheck Two Spotify codes will be awarded to access and listen to John Moehring's book read by Dean Bootcheck. Enter the Contest for a chance to win an Audiobook “The Magical Life of Marshall Brodien.” Two Spotify Codes will be awarded for Audiobooks as prizes in this contest, compliments of the narrator, Dean Bootcheck. First Name Last Name Email Address Enter Now Your privacy is our concern. We will only share your email address with Dean Bootcheck, who is offering this prize. Since it is a digital prize and no foreign postage is necessary, all are welcome to enter where allowed by law. Thank you for entering the contest. If your name is randomly selected, then you will be contacted and sent a link where you can download and listen on Spotify. Good luck!

Wine: Neudorf 2023 Tiritiri Chardonnay, Nelson $29  Why I chose it:  - Terrific Chardonnay, like a good French Chablis  - Neudorf is one of the country's top chardonnay producers  - NZ is a top Chardonnay producer  - 2014 Neudorf Moutere Chardonnay – 100 pts  What does it taste like?  Taut, vibrant chardonnay with pronounced oyster shell/saline, hazelnut and subtle nutty oak flavours. Impressive purity and power with good cellaring potential although it can certainly be appreciated now.  Why it's a bargain:  -Worth at least twice the price  Where can you buy it?  -Neudorf Wines, Upper Moutere, Nelson $29  Food match?  -Seafoods, especially oysters.  Will it keep?  -No rush, keeps five or six years?    LISTEN ABOVE See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Once the Welsh football media spring dries up Elis needs a retirement plan. Thanks to his dashing good looks there is only one viable alternative: international modelling. The boys thus get the lowdown on all things posing from the most handsome man they've ever chatted to.We also play a Made Up Game where Elis is restricted to levels previously unexperienced and we've got two of the masters of tasks in the studio today.If you want to get in touch with the show then here's how: elisandjohn@bbc.co.uk or WhatsApp on 07974 293 022

Steponas Batoras valdė GTR jos jėgų žydėjime. Tačiau kelias iki sosto buvo ilgas, vingiuotas ir slidus. Iš gęstančios Vengrijos karalystės didiko, jis sugebėjo tapti vienos didžiausių Europos valstybių karaliumi. Vengrija XVI-ame amžiuje nesirodė nei stabili, nei saugi, todėl Batoras privalėjo greitai mokintis. Jo patirtis karyboje bei talentas politikoje buvo tiksliai tie bruožai, kurių darbo skelbime ieškojo Geriausių Tautų Respublika. Kokiu būdu Batoras kalėjimą iškeitė į sostą? Kokį planą ir vėl rezgė Habsburgai? Ir kuo į istoriją įsipaišė žymiausias (savo laiku) Lvivo muzikantas? PERSPĖJIMAS: Epizode aptinkami politinio thrillerio, tragedijos bei komedijos elementai. Muzika: Daddy_s_Music, JawadAliKhan, MusicLFiles, Tom Aldrich, Scott Buckley, LexinMusic, Hot_Dope, Nesrality, miyagisama, Onoychenkomusic

Today's crossword was by veteran crossword constructor Christina Iverson, who has a knack for writing absolutely effervescent puzzles. Just consider a few of the clues in today's grid: 51A, Queen's pawn?, ANT (nice once, CI); 42D, Swift to fill a concert hall?, TAYLOR (who else?); and 24A, Like a tightrope, ideally, TAUT (we tought, er, thought so too

Tradicinėje 15min tinklalaidėje apie futbolą „Skrieja kamuolys“ kalbėjome apie „Superbowl“, Azijos, Afrikos čempionatus, „Žalgirio“ situaciją, mėlynas korteles, „Man United“ svarbią pergalę, Vokietijos kertinę dvikovą, „Real“ pamokas išsišokėliams ir „Inter“ čempionišką charakterį. Komanda – 15min sporto žurnalistai Marius Bagdonas, Mantas Krasnickas, Aurimas Tamulionis bei tinklaraščio „Vienuolika“ bendraautorius ir „Go3” komentatorius Karolis Dudėnas. 00:00 Intro 00:25 Savaitės įvykiai 08:50 Tautų lygos burtai ir dvi opcijos Lietuvai 15:25 Baltijos taurė – privalome laimėti 25:25 Vangūs „Žalgirio“ tarpsezonis 39:10 Kataras apgynė Azijos čempionų titulą 50:23 Krasnicko nauja pradžia ir „Viaplay“ simbiozė su „Go3“ 55:32 Mėlyna kortelė futbole 1:04:20 „Man City“ saga tęsiasi 1:05:24 Dramblių triumfas Afrikoje 1:12:30 Anglijos „Premier“ lyga 1:39:40 Čempioniškas „Bayer“ ir nuvylęs „Bayern“ 2:04:30 Xabi Alonso ateitis 2:11:58 „Real“ įrodė, kad yra tikras Ispanijos futbolo karalius 2:20:40 „Inter“ dominavimas tęsiasi

Hamstrings get blamed for a lot of other issues (i.e. low back pain) but is it really their fault? In this Clinical Insight we talk about why the hamstrings might not be the only thing you should blame and the other factors that can play a role. www.clinicallypressed.org #complicatedsimple #progressive #openminded #PBE #EBP #noagenda #performance #training #nutrition #health #wellness #athlete #athletictraining #science #chiropractic #rehab #prevention #clinicallypressed #phd --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/clinicallypressedco/support

Director: Justine Triet Writers: Justine Triet, Arthur Harari Starring: Sandra Hüller, Samuel Theis, Swann Arlaud, Milo Machado Graner Runtime:  2 Hour 31 Minutes Synopsis:  The much-lauded winner of this year's Palme d'Or, Justine Triet's fourth feature has cemented her status as one of today's great filmmaking talents. Unfolding over two-and-a-half hours like a compulsively readable novel, the riveting Anatomy of a Fall is both a dissection of an intimate relationship and of the judiciary process. Sandra (a ferocious, magnetic, and edgy Sandra Hüller, also at the Festival in Jonathan Glazer's The Zone of Interest) is a successful German writer who lives in the French Alps with her husband Samuel (Samuel Theis) and their visually impaired son Daniel (Milo Machado Graner). A brilliant, decibel-bursting opening scene suggests tensions in their isolated chalet, so when Samuel is discovered dead in the snow beneath one of their windows, suspicion is quickly aroused. Did he take his own life, or was he pushed to his death? When the investigation proves to be inconclusive — its varying angles hinting at the microscopic examination to come — Sandra is ultimately indicted and put on trial. A captivating and sharply directed, written, and acted courtroom procedural, Anatomy of a Fall also functions like a trenchant autopsy of confirmation bias and ambiguity itself, with the court an operatic arena in which every gesture, word, and past interaction are ripe for judgment. As scrutiny turns to Sandra's complex character and her tumultuous relationship with Samuel — their artistic rivalries, romantic jealousies, and contempt — the couple's young son becomes the key witness. Taut, suspenseful, and thrilling until the final moment, Anatomy of a Fall progresses like a heady puzzle that tackles the messiness of existence and the often-elusive nature of truth itself. Anatomy of a Fall is one of those International films that actually feels even better if you watch it  as a foreigner. There's something about watching a court room drama from another country from the perspective of a foreigner with no sense of the criminal justice system in that country. In this film in particular, its jarring to see how the prosecutors and judge hound Sandra (Sandra Hüller) as the accused. What makes a good court room dramas work is its ability to pull the audience into the situation. Anatomy of a Fall takes it a step further and even adds in whodunit elements to have the audience completely guessing as to if Sandra is guilty or not. It's as if the film treats the audience as the traditional jury and each scene is laid out as a way for either the defense or prosecution to present their case in order to sway the jury. Where Anatomy of a Fall succeeds where other films fail is that at no point does it take the audience for granted and what's presented never feels like an empty red heron. Witnesses make mistakes. Scenarios seem implausible but not impossible, leaving room for doubt. Director Justine Triet does a brilliant job of pulling the audience into the situation of this movie and making them FEEL the tension and environment. If you already didn't have strong negative feelings about rapper 50 Cent's song P.I.M.P, then you will probably dread/hate the song after. The obnoxious use of the song by the victim (Sandra's husband) is enough to drive the audience crazy. It's not really a downside though as it's clearly done on purpose. The whole point is to pull the audience into the moment and start thinking things like "Maybe Sandra did it because of how annoying he is" and "She has to be lying when she says the song didn't annoy her because it's annoying me".  Anatomy of a Fall is definitely well worth the watch. The drama and tension leads right up through the end of the film and will leave audiences engaged the entire time. Listen as Kriss is joined by the Review Crew to talk about this film. Anatomy of a Fall showed at the Toronto Film Festival 20...

Director: Justine Triet Writers: Justine Triet, Arthur Harari Starring: Sandra Hüller, Samuel Theis, Swann Arlaud, Milo Machado Graner Runtime:  2 Hour 31 Minutes Synopsis:  The much-lauded winner of this year's Palme d'Or, Justine Triet's fourth feature has cemented her status as one of today's great filmmaking talents. Unfolding over two-and-a-half hours like a compulsively readable novel, the riveting Anatomy of a Fall is both a dissection of an intimate relationship and of the judiciary process. Sandra (a ferocious, magnetic, and edgy Sandra Hüller, also at the Festival in Jonathan Glazer's The Zone of Interest) is a successful German writer who lives in the French Alps with her husband Samuel (Samuel Theis) and their visually impaired son Daniel (Milo Machado Graner). A brilliant, decibel-bursting opening scene suggests tensions in their isolated chalet, so when Samuel is discovered dead in the snow beneath one of their windows, suspicion is quickly aroused. Did he take his own life, or was he pushed to his death? When the investigation proves to be inconclusive — its varying angles hinting at the microscopic examination to come — Sandra is ultimately indicted and put on trial. A captivating and sharply directed, written, and acted courtroom procedural, Anatomy of a Fall also functions like a trenchant autopsy of confirmation bias and ambiguity itself, with the court an operatic arena in which every gesture, word, and past interaction are ripe for judgment. As scrutiny turns to Sandra's complex character and her tumultuous relationship with Samuel — their artistic rivalries, romantic jealousies, and contempt — the couple's young son becomes the key witness. Taut, suspenseful, and thrilling until the final moment, Anatomy of a Fall progresses like a heady puzzle that tackles the messiness of existence and the often-elusive nature of truth itself. Anatomy of a Fall is one of those International films that actually feels even better if you watch it  as a foreigner. There's something about watching a court room drama from another country from the perspective of a foreigner with no sense of the criminal justice system in that country. In this film in particular, its jarring to see how the prosecutors and judge hound Sandra (Sandra Hüller) as the accused. What makes a good court room dramas work is its ability to pull the audience into the situation. Anatomy of a Fall takes it a step further and even adds in whodunit elements to have the audience completely guessing as to if Sandra is guilty or not. It's as if the film treats the audience as the traditional jury and each scene is laid out as a way for either the defense or prosecution to present their case in order to sway the jury. Where Anatomy of a Fall succeeds where other films fail is that at no point does it take the audience for granted and what's presented never feels like an empty red heron. Witnesses make mistakes. Scenarios seem implausible but not impossible, leaving room for doubt. Director Justine Triet does a brilliant job of pulling the audience into the situation of this movie and making them FEEL the tension and environment. If you already didn't have strong negative feelings about rapper 50 Cent's song P.I.M.P, then you will probably dread/hate the song after. The obnoxious use of the song by the victim (Sandra's husband) is enough to drive the audience crazy. It's not really a downside though as it's clearly done on purpose. The whole point is to pull the audience into the moment and start thinking things like "Maybe Sandra did it because of how annoying he is" and "She has to be lying when she says the song didn't annoy her because it's annoying me".  Anatomy of a Fall is definitely well worth the watch. The drama and tension leads right up through the end of the film and will leave audiences engaged the entire time. Listen as Kriss is joined by the Review Crew to talk about this film. Anatomy of a Fall showed at the Toronto Film Festival 20...

Face yoga is a gentle form of strength training that targets working the 57 muscles in the head, shoulders and neck. Benefits include better circulation, stronger facial muscles, firmer skin and fewer fine lines and wrinkles.  Face yoga exercises aim to tone and lift features, soften fine lines, and even reduce facial asymmetry… all the things we might spend a lot of money getting frequent cosmetic injections for.  But whilst face yoga is a great tool in our face and skincare routine, it's also incredibly good for our wellbeing too.  It eases tension, helps soothe headaches, helps us to relax and feel less anxious and stressed. And by relaxing tensed muscles you find yourself in a calmer, happier state. Plus, by looking better, you will feel better too. Bonus! Danielle Collins is the world leading Face Yoga expert, best selling author, a regular media contributor and has a huge social media following. With over 18 years experience, Danielle has helped millions of people look and feel the best version of themselves using natural techniques to lift the face and boost wellbeing.  The Danielle Collins Face Yoga method consists of 5 key areas: face exercise, face relaxation, face massage, acupressure and wellbeing. In this episode of The Happier Life Project Danielle explains this further. She also discusses with host Gabby how face yoga really works, breaking down both the cosmetic and wellness benefits and sharing some of her favourite exercises to both relax, and smooth out the skin.   You don't need to be a yogi to practice and benefit from face yoga, and best of all, it's completely free! For all things The Face Yoga Expert: https://faceyogaexpert.com/ To download the free My Possible Self App: https://mypossibleself.app.link/podcast To follow My Possible Self on instagram: @mypossibleself

No one knows Margo's real name. Her colleagues and patrons at a small-town public library only know her middle-aged normalcy, congeniality, and charm. They have no reason to suspect that she is, in fact, a former nurse with a trail of countless premature deaths in her wake. She has turned a new page, so to speak, and the library is her sanctuary, a place to quell old urges. That is, at least, until Patricia, a recent graduate and failed novelist, joins the library staff. Patricia quickly notices Margo's subtly sinister edge, and watches her carefully. When a patron's death in the library bathroom gives her a hint of Margo's mysterious past, Patricia can't resist digging deeper--even as this new fixation becomes all-consuming. Taut and compelling, How Can I Help You explores the dark side of human nature and the dangerous pull of artistic obsession as these "transfixing dual female narrators" (Kimberly McCreight) hurtle toward a stunning climax. How Can I Help You (Putnam, 2023) is a LibraryReads Top Ten Pick of July, an Amazon Editors' Pick of the Month, a Publishers Weekly Pick of the Week, and one of CrimeReads' 10 Best Books of July. Laura Sims's first novel, LOOKER, was chosen as a “Best Book” by Vogue, People Magazine, Entertainment Weekly, Esquire UK, and more, and is now in development for television by eOne and Emily Mortimer's King Bee Productions. An award-winning poet, Sims has published four poetry collections; her essays and poems have appeared in The New Republic, Boston Review, Conjunctions, and Electric Lit. She and her family live in New Jersey, where she works part-time as a reference librarian and hosts the library's lecture series. Recommendations: Nathan Oates, A Flaw in the Design Marianna Enriquez, Our Share of Night Hilary Leichter, Terrace Story  Chris Holmes is Chair of Literatures in English and Associate Professor at Ithaca College. He writes criticism on contemporary global literatures. His book, Kazuo Ishiguro as World Literature, is under contract with Bloomsbury Publishing. He is the co-director of The New Voices Festival, a celebration of work in poetry, prose, and playwriting by up-and-coming young writers. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

No one knows Margo's real name. Her colleagues and patrons at a small-town public library only know her middle-aged normalcy, congeniality, and charm. They have no reason to suspect that she is, in fact, a former nurse with a trail of countless premature deaths in her wake. She has turned a new page, so to speak, and the library is her sanctuary, a place to quell old urges. That is, at least, until Patricia, a recent graduate and failed novelist, joins the library staff. Patricia quickly notices Margo's subtly sinister edge, and watches her carefully. When a patron's death in the library bathroom gives her a hint of Margo's mysterious past, Patricia can't resist digging deeper--even as this new fixation becomes all-consuming. Taut and compelling, How Can I Help You explores the dark side of human nature and the dangerous pull of artistic obsession as these "transfixing dual female narrators" (Kimberly McCreight) hurtle toward a stunning climax. How Can I Help You (Putnam, 2023) is a LibraryReads Top Ten Pick of July, an Amazon Editors' Pick of the Month, a Publishers Weekly Pick of the Week, and one of CrimeReads' 10 Best Books of July. Laura Sims's first novel, LOOKER, was chosen as a “Best Book” by Vogue, People Magazine, Entertainment Weekly, Esquire UK, and more, and is now in development for television by eOne and Emily Mortimer's King Bee Productions. An award-winning poet, Sims has published four poetry collections; her essays and poems have appeared in The New Republic, Boston Review, Conjunctions, and Electric Lit. She and her family live in New Jersey, where she works part-time as a reference librarian and hosts the library's lecture series. Recommendations: Nathan Oates, A Flaw in the Design Marianna Enriquez, Our Share of Night Hilary Leichter, Terrace Story  Chris Holmes is Chair of Literatures in English and Associate Professor at Ithaca College. He writes criticism on contemporary global literatures. His book, Kazuo Ishiguro as World Literature, is under contract with Bloomsbury Publishing. He is the co-director of The New Voices Festival, a celebration of work in poetry, prose, and playwriting by up-and-coming young writers. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

No one knows Margo's real name. Her colleagues and patrons at a small-town public library only know her middle-aged normalcy, congeniality, and charm. They have no reason to suspect that she is, in fact, a former nurse with a trail of countless premature deaths in her wake. She has turned a new page, so to speak, and the library is her sanctuary, a place to quell old urges. That is, at least, until Patricia, a recent graduate and failed novelist, joins the library staff. Patricia quickly notices Margo's subtly sinister edge, and watches her carefully. When a patron's death in the library bathroom gives her a hint of Margo's mysterious past, Patricia can't resist digging deeper--even as this new fixation becomes all-consuming. Taut and compelling, How Can I Help You explores the dark side of human nature and the dangerous pull of artistic obsession as these "transfixing dual female narrators" (Kimberly McCreight) hurtle toward a stunning climax. How Can I Help You (Putnam, 2023) is a LibraryReads Top Ten Pick of July, an Amazon Editors' Pick of the Month, a Publishers Weekly Pick of the Week, and one of CrimeReads' 10 Best Books of July. Laura Sims's first novel, LOOKER, was chosen as a “Best Book” by Vogue, People Magazine, Entertainment Weekly, Esquire UK, and more, and is now in development for television by eOne and Emily Mortimer's King Bee Productions. An award-winning poet, Sims has published four poetry collections; her essays and poems have appeared in The New Republic, Boston Review, Conjunctions, and Electric Lit. She and her family live in New Jersey, where she works part-time as a reference librarian and hosts the library's lecture series. Recommendations: Nathan Oates, A Flaw in the Design Marianna Enriquez, Our Share of Night Hilary Leichter, Terrace Story  Chris Holmes is Chair of Literatures in English and Associate Professor at Ithaca College. He writes criticism on contemporary global literatures. His book, Kazuo Ishiguro as World Literature, is under contract with Bloomsbury Publishing. He is the co-director of The New Voices Festival, a celebration of work in poetry, prose, and playwriting by up-and-coming young writers. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/literature

In der Schweiz gibt es ein Dorf, das in Gefahr geraten ist. In der Arktis wird er für den gesamten Planeten zum Problem. Was tauender Permafrost für uns bedeutet.

The entire party arrives in Heracleon after being driven through the coven portal system Like our Stuff? Let us know on social media! Connect with us: Twitter: @IncorrigiblePar Instagram: instagram.com/incorrigibleparty Facebook: facebook.com/groups/theincorrigiblepartypodcast/ Website: http://incorrigibleparty.com/ Youtube: The Incorrigible Party YT Twtich: https://www.twitch.tv/incorrigibleparty Support us and get exclusive mini campaign content! https://www.patreon.com/incorrigibleparty Intro Music provided by: Josh Jarvis Contact Josh for your music needs! All other music courtesy of Tabletopaudio.com The Incorrigible Party podcast is sponsored by the amazing and very generous Critical Hit Design!

Rapinoe's Celebrity Overshadows a Taut USWNT Defeat, Mom sues after Southwest worker flagged ‘trafficking' of biracial daughter // Millions of older workers are nearing retirement with nothing saved, More Americans say they can never retire // ‘Help me, Jesus!': Snake falls out of sky, lands on woman, then both attacked by a hawk See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Hamstrings get blamed for a lot of other issues (i.e. low back pain) but is it really their fault? In this Clinical Insight we talk about why the hamstrings might not be the only thing you should blame and the other factors that can play a role. www.clinicallypressed.org #complicatedsimple #progressive #openminded #PBE #EBP #noagenda #performance #training #nutrition #health #wellness #athlete #athletictraining #science #chiropractic #rehab #prevention #clinicallypressed #phd --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/clinicallypressedco/support