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Word: sweated (lookup in dictionary) (lookup stats)
Dates: during 1970-1979
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Usage:

...show), his voice is only as strong as the mic it is hooked to, and an orphan out of Annie could match his acting. Like Minnelli, Davis projects the image of an overage child parched for affection, aggressively demanding approval, and working onstage with a grueling intensity. Not "no sweat" but all sweat...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Theater: Life's Clown | 8/14/1978 | See Source »

...apples, homemade cookies, hot dogs) outside the elementary school, members thoughtfully spiked rolls of toilet paper on fence posts bordering the usefully protective 8-ft.-tall rows of corn. Night after night from the instant campgrounds across Iowa arose a bizarre melange of aromas: marijuana, freshly baked cookies, barbecues, sweat and suntan oil. Some folks thought the fragrance should be bottled. Essence de Ragbrai...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Living: The Iowa Bikeathon | 8/14/1978 | See Source »

...week, when the Cleveland Indians gallop into town for a three-game set at Fenway. Normally it's a real challenge to pick up a Sox ticket these days, but the Tribe is so amateurish they've been invited to send a delegation to the Olympics, so don't sweat it. Rumor has it that Bowie Kuhn actually forgot Cleveland is still in the major leagues, and the team certainly hasn't done much to correct that impression. Look for a scalping...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: SPORTS | 8/4/1978 | See Source »

George Carlin has never tried to change the world; he just likes to run up on that stage and gesticulate and sweat and express, and the gales of laughter--sometimes even hysterical and mad laughter--make him feel good. "My purpose is self-expression, and when they applaud or laugh, it's their way of saying, 'Hey man, we like your self-expression," he says...

Author: By David A. Demilo and Susan C. Faludi, S | Title: George Carlin's Coming of Age | 7/25/1978 | See Source »

...flashing finger codes at him, and Bobby didn't know what any of them meant. Out of fear he just nodded neurotically. And then he stood there, not knowing what to do. The crowd had worked itself into pent-up silence, awaiting the pitch of the season. The sweat was pouring down from Bobby's brow, flooding his eyes and blurring his vision. He stepped off the mound to wipe his forehead; George Foster rolled his eyes with impatience and disgust, stepping out of the batter's box and shaking his bat about like a mean club. The fans were...

Author: By David A. Demilo, | Title: A Good Man in the Clutch | 7/21/1978 | See Source »

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