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Word: mugged (lookup in dictionary) (lookup stats)
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...travel to the land of origin of these brilliant songs. With the fiddles, “Whistles high and low,” and bodhran in “Scolding Wife,” the listener can easily picture himself deep within a Newfoundland bar, hoisting a large mug of frothy mead while belting out the rousing chorus...

Author: By Crimson STAFF Writers, CRIMSON STAFF WRITER | Title: New Music | 2/22/2002 | See Source »

...Sunday through Thursday) all dishes are $3. The nachos—smothered in sour cream, guacamole and cheese—are heavenly when washed down with a Paulaner Hefeweizen, a light German beer served with a lemon wedge in a gigantic glass. On a blustery day, a mug of hot cider hits the spot, especially when enhanced with spiced...

Author: By Kate Szostak, CRIMSON STAFF WRITER | Title: A Night Out at the Bars of Yesteryear | 2/21/2002 | See Source »

...shook Cameron, as well as the Fat Albert greeting, Hey, hey, hey! When UNC came to Cameron two years ago, their star guard, Ed Cota, had recently been arrested for drunk driving. Some enterprising Blue Devil fan got the idea of distributing thousands of copies of a fake Cota mug shot to the crowd, who held them up throughout the game while chanting, Go to jail, Ed Cota, go to jail (to the rhythm of the traditional anti-UNC taunt, Go to Hell, Carolina, go to Helleat shit). Ex-Dukies at Harvard used to be able to reenact such rituals...

Author: By Thomasin D. Franken, CRIMSON STAFF WRITER | Title: A Rival Rivalry | 11/15/2001 | See Source »

...Randy Johnson’s 95 m.p.h. fastball destroyed an innocent dove. Johnson, a 6’10 giant with a mug fiercer than anything you’ll encounter trick-or-treating tonight, was probably more rattled than he’s ever been while facing Jeff Bagwell or Barry Bonds. He didn’t want to talk much about the incident afterwards, saying that he “didn’t think it was at all funny...

Author: By Martin S. Bell, CRIMSON STAFF WRITER | Title: Saved by the Bell: It's a Bird... It's Dead | 10/31/2001 | See Source »

...said anonymous female was writhing against her equally anonymous man-friend. But so were the hoardes of women at waiting impatiently at Johnston Gate. Always a popular pick-up point, Johnston Gate was filled a mass of people standing against the cast-iron gate, lined up like convicts getting mug shots. A male in a tight t-shirt with extremely large muscles held a girl cave-man style over his shoulder. When she dismounted and boarded the shuttle, her friend advised her. “It isn’t cool. He’s your prefect...

Author: By William L. Adams, CRIMSON STAFF WRITER | Title: A Night Out | 10/18/2001 | See Source »

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