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Word: bowle (lookup in dictionary) (lookup stats)
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...Americans watched the show like they watched the Super Bowl, 16 million and up every single week, and more than that talked about it the morning after. Rooting for Rudy, Kelly, Colleen, talking about Richard. But the reality of the thing, this "Star Wars" of "reality TV," had been decided months ago. The suspense was artificial. Nobody cared. They didn't want to know. They kept watching...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: The Post-Game Show: Only Rudy Was the Same | 8/24/2000 | See Source »

...Richard got naked - which, as pre-taped Dave noted, sort of gave it away. And don't say good-bye - "Survivor" will be back for prime-time reruns on Sept. 14, complete with interviews and never-before-seen footage. That should almost last us to halftime of the Super Bowl in January, when "Survivor II" kicks...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: The Post-Game Show: Only Rudy Was the Same | 8/24/2000 | See Source »

Until comedian Dennis Miller's debut as an announcer on ABC's Monday Night Football last week, I had not watched an NFL game since Black Sunday, January 1979. By which I mean, Super Bowl XIII. I was then a Dallas Cowboys diehard. When the Pittsburgh Steelers beat America's Team 35-31, I cried like a girl, because that's what I was, a nine-year-old in a Cowboys T shirt. Cradling the Roger Staubach-autographed football I had received for Christmas (which he had graciously signed despite the fact that my well-meaning mother had sent...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Football the Way It Ought to Be | 8/14/2000 | See Source »

That only makes it harder to admit that most of what I'm watching is pretty dull stuff. Like Curtis, the straitlaced Asian-American attorney, scrubbing the toilet bowl. Or Jamie, the squeaky-clean beauty queen, grating cheese for nachos. Or those endless dissertations on the virtues of Dryel, the horrors of amoeba-induced diarrhea, the burning shame of bunions...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: I'm a Web Zombie | 7/31/2000 | See Source »

Since it was Thursday, the first thing I did was waddle down the hall to the place where Barbara puts out a bowl of chocolates, grab a fistful of Butterfingers and Special Darks, and then hotfoot it back to my desk. Three hundred paces! This was going to be easy. Unfortunately, by the end of the day, I had racked up only 3,000 steps. I resolved the next day to walk to the pizza place at lunch rather than order in, and I managed to boost my total to 5,000 paces. Within three days, I was obsessed with...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: High-Tech Walking | 7/24/2000 | See Source »

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