We have to come to terms with the fact that lately, in the playground of positive foreign relations, Pakistan is the grubby snot-nosed
kid that no one wants to be friends with.
It is certainly not a destination for everyone, but those visitors willing to leave their first-world problems at the airport, spare some coins for the snot-nosed
street urchins asking for help to buy a football, and embrace the mysticism that Marrakesh is most famed for, will be richly rewarded.
That was just one observation in the 6o-page report compiled on a healthy, happy, and apparently snot-nosed
2-year-old, under a new parenting surveillance program in Scotland.
When a snot-nosed
little guy from Westbrook calls me a racist, now I'd like him to come up here because, tell you right now, I wish it were 1825," LePage said, via the Press Herald.
troops - usually snot-nosed
kids, not much beyond their teens and 20s - who didn't know what the hell was going on.
And Tom Cruise, now 51, will no longer be playing a snot-nosed
jockey with a need for speed on the highway to the danger zone.
The catchy song sees Mary's protective mantle as covering "the whole wide world," and so I also ask her to protect the snot-nosed
toddler who flashes a big smile at me as he crosses the street with his mom, the grade-schoolers on their way to school, the homeless who hang out by the shelter I pass, the fellow cyclists heading into the city, and even the impatient driver who nearly grazes me as he speeds by with barely an inch to spare.
Instead of water, cattails, and smartweed, he saw pavement, mini vans and dumpy housewives dragging their whiny, snot-nosed
Skaters aren't trying to be snot-nosed
I have yet to see a skinny snot-nosed
kid with hand-me-down jumpers with holes in the elbows, and their backside hanging out of their trousers.
You see resume jargon in two places: on the resumes of snot-nosed
kids who think it makes them sound important, and in the emails and memos of red-nosed middle managers who think it makes them sound important.
As in Tony Manero, Larrain indulges a taste for the fetid--the greasy rat tail on Nancy's balding boss, the gray chunk of gristle that Mario spits out in the lunchroom--and for emotional extremes: Mario passionately hugging Nancy's mop-haired kid brother in what seems more than gratitude, or the two lovers succumbing to a snot-nosed
crying jag at their first meal together.