Word: sugar
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: all
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...right, I’ll admit it. I once had a crush on Fall Out Boy. I found “Sugar, We’re Going Down” soon after the suburban Chicago band’s 2005 album hit the radio. The song breathed life into the orange-haired, black-nail-polished part of me I’d ignored since my pre-teen years. I’d found my secret summer love. But God, why are the pretty ones always so damn stupid? “Infinity on High” lacks the cheek that...
...treating her subjects more like personalities in a melodramatic soap opera than distinguished writers, she does just the opposite. Cheever apparently wanted “Bloomsbury” to be a fun, accessible read—maybe more page-turner than history lesson. Instead of a spoonful-of-sugar intellectual discourse, however, Cheever’s style mocks her supposedly honored subjects with such prize sentiments as “Fuller was unafraid, unafraid of her own brilliance and not afraid to be bitchy.” Even the facts of “Bloomsbury” feel like contrived...
...went upstairs to inspect the damage. My heart sank. On the third floor landing were fragments of porcelain in colors of oxblood, imperial yellow, celadon green and blue-and-white. The third-floor rooms resembled a scene after an earthquake. The Red Guards had emptied my storage cupboard. Flour, sugar and food lay on top of heaps of clothing they had taken out of cupboards. They had already dealt with my fur coats and evening dresses with scissors. The ceiling fan was whirling. Bits of fur, silk and torn tissue paper were flying around. Tables and chairs were overturned...
...geniuses who figured out how to make cornmeal bend into a scoop have a baked line that also seems to have kept the quality, although the Tostitos All Natural Picante Sauce is a bit watery and a tiny bit sweeter than you would expect, considering there's no sugar. Still, eating them made me feel like a snack wimp. If I'm man enough to watch men tackle one another, I'm man enough to work a little partial hydrogenation through my arteries...
...some of the café’s regulars (myself included), that statement might seem facetious: Does anyone work at night in the continuously packed café? No. Touché. Freshmen girls giggle at the countertops with their non-fat, sugar-free, mocha chip frozen lattes, biology students converge at desktop computers to browse YouTube instead of their missed lecture videos, and Social Studies 10 types gather in the back with Marx and Durkheim in hand, but who are they kidding...