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Word: tang (lookup in dictionary) (lookup stats)
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Usage:

...entrance, I hurry past, staring intently at my toes the whole way. As I approach the thankfully unoccupied door, I try to dredge up what little knowledge of hip-hop culture I have. It's Nothing but a G-Thang. G-Funk--step to this, I dare you. Wu-Tang Clan ain't nuthin to fuck wit'. Inter- galacticplanetary-intergalactic... How does the rest go? I tuck my Abercrombie T-shirt into my Gap denim shorts and walk through the door...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: As It Were | 5/6/1999 | See Source »

...entrance, I hurry past, staring intently at my toes the whole way. As I approach the thankfully unoccupied door, I try to dredge up what little knowledge of hip-hop culture I have. It's Nothing but a G-Thang. G-Funk--step to this, I dare you. Wu-Tang Clan ain't nuthin to fuck wit'. Inter- galacticplanetary-intergalactic... How does the rest go? I tuck my Abercrombie T-shirt into my Gap denim shorts and walk through the door...

Author: By Richard D. Ma, | Title: This Ol' Dirty Bastard: How I Came to Terms with My Hip-Hop Roots | 5/6/1999 | See Source »

...traffic controllers are the true macho men of sky biz--cowboy choreographers who get the dozens of planes over New York City's airports "lined up like Rockettes." As long as Glen and Les Charles' script focuses on the controllers' wayward bravado, the film has the tang of an old Howard Hawks film about tough guys under pressure. But like its frazzled hero, Nick (John Cusack), this ambitious, well-cast movie goes haywire when Nick's rivalry with psycho-genius Billy Bob Thornton turns into a game of sexual oneupsmanship. Tin tailspins into silliness and never regains its flight pattern...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Cinema: Pushing Tin | 5/3/1999 | See Source »

...Michael H. Tang...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: Letters | 4/28/1999 | See Source »

...wives, many with bright-eyed sons and daughters and grandchildren, all wearing crimson, most of them waving banners, giving forth the unforgettable scents of a great Eastern football classic-odor of healthy flesh nipped by late November chill, perfume of flowers, perfume of perfume, perfume of feminine hair, sharp tang of Egyptian cigarette fumes, clean breath of bourbon, smell of furs--chanting roar of cheers, of thousands of male voices raised in enthralled song, shrill feminine screams of sheer ecstasy...

Author: By Frances G. Tilney, | Title: The GOLD Coast | 3/11/1999 | See Source »

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