Results for “grand slam home run”
A home run with the bases loaded, scoring four runs.
The top trophy at a ball, and the opening procession where the houses make their entrance.
Fine, okay, or good enough — the most Irish way to say everything's alright.
Homemade prison hooch fermented from fruit, sugar and bread.
Defenders leaving the building to ambush attackers outside.
Timed pickups on the map that hand you a temporary buff — haste, double damage, the lot.
Demanding an instant rematch on the same stage right after a loss, fuelled by pure salt.
Emulating frames in advance to kill input lag.
Romance-novel hero archetype: older, distinguished, commanding — but the kind who'd order for the table and fix your problems.
Trainers. Sneakers. The shoes you'd run in (or not).
Remote-popping trunk rigged with neon, amps and speakers.
An infantryman — the boots-on-the-ground soldier.
An easy, routine sortie — like the milkman's round.
Chef calling tickets and quality-checking every plate as it leaves the line.
Carry plates from the pass to the table.
Hit hard with a sudden wall of orders.
Trading ahead of a client's order you know is about to move the price.
Carry a plated dish from the pass to its table.
The strip you strut down to present yourself — a model walk, often themed, judged on the walk and the look.
A trip to buy more beer.
A quick trip to the petrol station.
a trip to buy McDonald's
Safe journey / all is smooth
Food cooked down in coconut milk
Compliment for thick, powerful legs.
A rumor, word on the street (Cuba)
To play another game right away
A back who runs straight ahead with power.
A goal or result that defies which team was on top.
A forceful score; figuratively, a sure thing.
Hyped, rowdy, and turnt — the energy of Southern 2000s rap.
An extended stretch of rising prices and euphoria when everything seems to go up.
Your tight friend from the neighborhood, your ride-or-die from way back.
A key to the door, in the playful coded style of pure Harlem jive.
Your day-one girl from the block, the female counterpart to your homeboy.
A breezy, expensive-but-effortless aesthetic of linen, neutral tones, and living like a wealthy retiree by the sea.
A playful spin on 'homie' — your close friend, with extra silliness.
Dressing like a stylish, slightly eccentric grandpa — cardigans, layered knits, loafers, and comfy thrifted charm.
Staggering drunk — bouncing off walls on the way home.
Acres Homes — named after the #44 Metro bus that runs through it.