Word: garished
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...Designed by the nation's architectural doyen, Vann Molyvann, the Modernist facility was one of the high-tide marks of Cambodia's post-independence achievements, but the nation slid into civil war before it could be properly put to use. Today, the complex is hidden from view by a garish Chinese shophouses that obscure its perimeter walls, but the facilities have been restored. All the matches in the WOVD competition will be played in an indoor stadium and are free to the public. Cambodian Prime Minister Hun Sen, the patron of the disabled league, will preside over the opening ceremony...
There are two things Ed Soares is devoted to. One is his job as a detective for the East Palo Alto, Calif., police department, where he has worked for five years. The other is a large garish tattoo of St. Michael casting the devil into hell that adorns his forearm. The image is a work in progress, and Soares, 33, has spent three years and $5,000 getting it just the way he wants it. So he faced something of a test of allegiances this summer when the department forbade all its officers from displaying tattoos...
Since the Stone Age, tattooing has been seen as a spiritual ritual, used to mark a right of passage. During the Civil War, getting a flag emblazoned on the arm emerged as a patriotic symbol for soldiers. But in the past few years, the garish body-art trend has taken on an increasingly negative connotation as it has become a signifying mark of street gangs and prison inmates...
...held annually in the village of Ashton in southeast England, the British game grows up, drawing an international roster of children and their nostalgic parents. This year, nearly five hundred competitors from as far away as Jamaica and the Ukraine are competing for bragging rights, a trophy and a garish crown adorned with chestnuts. The event feels like a cross between Halloween and a college football game. Five thousand spectators don fancy costumes (think nuns, pirates, horses and Dumbledore) and, from 9:30 in the morning, guzzle beer and munch on sausages...
...most banal sort. I learned to love winning. I even expected them to win. Our playoff loss in 2006 to the St. Louis Cardinals was a fluke. Surely we would win this year. And we were winning-for the longest time. And then we were losing-spectacularly, with such garish determination that it brought to mind... the 1962 Mets. I embraced the ugliness of the slide, the entropy-propelled avalanche of awfulness. Well, maybe I did suffer a little. But it was a cathartic temps perdu suffering. Immaturity restored, I can now spend the autumn spitefully, rooting against the Yankees...