Op-Ed columnist Maureen

Usage examples of dowd.

The apocryphal stories typically acquire the status of fact by neurotic repetition in Maureen Dowd columns.

Hullinger, Reiter, Rench, Dowd, Albritton, Eggert, Alderman, Jenkins, Hyatt, McCroan, Featherman.

Chong, the guy whose van Peaty ripped off, is a softwareconsultant who used to rent office space in a building owned by the Dowds.

Dowd sibs hire their cousin as a minimum-wage janitor and givehim a former laundry room to live in.

Dowd, ever the anticipator, had already mixed him a whisky and soda, but he forsook it for fear it would loosen his tongue.

Don’t be vexed with me, Serena, but it is not only a parcel of Bath dowds who think it a fast thing for you to do!

The only person of experience to draw on the curb-rein was Mrs Bagshot, and since Sherry had freely stigmatized this lady and all her daughters as a parcel of dowds it was not surprising that Hero should not have attended to the severe lecture Cousin Jane read her.

Though these were blissless times, Dowd didn't discount the possibility of such a soul appearing.

Dowd chugged half a quart and then said he'd best be getting outside for a kingsize piss and everybody laughed.

At the other end of the table from Dowd, sitting in front of a heap of newspapers doubtless carrying the Burke reports, sat a professorial man in his sixties, white hair oiled to his scalp, Dowd knew his name from Godolphin's description: Hubert Shales, dubbed The Sloth by Oscar.

Dowd told me that he expects Hoffa to barnstorm primary election states and deluge voters with anti-Kennedy sentiment, and I think this may play into our hands.

Caught unawares, Celestine was dragged against the raw edge of the hole, and before the rest of her filaments could come to her aid Dowd had raised his wrists above his head and casually snapped the flesh that bound them.

Her food was served in her room by Dowd, and there she waited, hearing Oscar come and go, and on occasion hints of conversation on the stairs, enough to gather the impression that the Tabula Rasa's purge was reaching a critical point.

Dowd busied himself dealing with the bodies of the voiders, dragging them out of the chapel, making a simple pyre of dead wood, and burning them upon it.

Inspired by a few clues from Dowd, she had imagined the In Ovo as a kind of wasteland, where voiders hung like drowned men in deep-sea trenches, and creatures the sun would never see crawled towards her, their paths lit by their own sickly luminescence.