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

...returned reluctantly to my first reading period, arguably the most terrifying weeks of freshman year. My neglected coursework loomed before me, and my classmates' all too evident paranoia drove me from the Union. I never went back--it was too loud and the food sucked. I drank soup in my room, worked and fended off an inexplicable herd of admirers who had suddenly materialized when I didn't want to be bothered. As a maniacally drew up my schedules for studying, I discovered to my horror that I had three exams in three days. Had I read the catalogue more...

Author: By J.wyatt Emmerich, | Title: A Ticket to Ride | 8/17/1979 | See Source »

...went to public high school, you see, and this first week I had met more than one peer who called me a "pubie." Not that I had anything against "preppies" when I came here; I thought they were all wealthy, groomed kids who wore sweaters and tweed. But it was much, much more than that, this irrevocable division of the races, battle of mentalities. No, not all preppies are bad. No, not all pubies are good...

Author: By David A. Demilo, | Title: Of Wolves and Men | 8/17/1979 | See Source »

Little Joe went back to his room and prepared for the battle, shedding his clothes for t-shirt and jeans. He practiced crotch kicks into his door and smashed light bulbs with his Chinese numchuks. He took up his boxing gloves and pounded the tree out in the House courtyard for half an hour. "I'm ready," he sighed...

Author: By David A. Demilo, | Title: Of Wolves and Men | 8/17/1979 | See Source »

...case his enemy brought "friends." Little Joe's roommate was Big Joe, and Big Joe was 6 ft. 11 in. and 245 pounds. Big Joe told his roommate that it was all so silly, all these wolves grinding their teeth over an ill-founded sexual speculation. But he went anyway, wiping the sleep from his eyes...

Author: By David A. Demilo, | Title: Of Wolves and Men | 8/17/1979 | See Source »

...played ping-pong after the chemical lunch. We were just getting off. The ground slipped lower and lower, until I was standing on ten-foot legs. The ball darted about leaving traces of its circular form, and when I went to hit the circular form, the ball slipped by me. I told my arms--commanded them--to hit the fucking ball, but they just laid numb by my side, dead. My legs went limp, and I quit the ping-pong game...

Author: By David A. Demilo, | Title: Of Wolves and Men | 8/17/1979 | See Source »

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