Bombastic could never be replaced with a more tepid term like `great' because `great' was used by the run-of-the-mill and not by students who were striving to have a bombastic word database to boast of.

Just when my parents started fearing that my knowledge of the English language would remain retarded due to this `bomb' word, I came across the word `abominable' in a novel. Those were the days when skipped heartbeats amongst my classmates resulted from reading about Lord Charles de Frouvier aiding the governess Aurelia Hansworth alight from her horse carriage. I found the world of smelling salts and whalebone corsets, endless balls and high teas, and roguish Dukes and spirited red-haired `wenches' very, very fascinating. And the word `abominable' was an integral part of that world. It was majestic, yet down-to-earth and had a very, very `period' ring to it.

In the adolescent years, this was just what I needed to use to appear a `propah' and genteel young lady. (Of course, being a lady of spirit, pure heart and noble character were all-important virtues we looked forward to acquiring). I used `abominable' to describe most of the boys I met during school socials and the Maths tests I wrote, or even the dress my mother wanted me to wear for the birthday party. So while most of my contemporaries were lost in `weird' sums, and `sick' dresses, I had this very fanciful bunting of a word to describe most miseries in life.

In college, when `cute' was `in', and `sexy' described everything from a guy's muscles to the wada-pav sold at the mobile restaurant, I tumbled upon `stupendous'. Another very flexible term which served multi-varied functions. `Stupendous' was young, fun, gushy and at the same time, not another `masses' word.

In fact, `stupendous' sounded so flattering many a times, my friends would glow like electric bulbs when I used it for them in complimentary parlance. ``You're wearing a stupendous T-shirt,'' I told a friend once and the girl wore it thrice the same week. `Stupendous' stuck along enough to see me pass out of college with stupendous results.

These are the days of `humongous'. (For the uninitiated, humongous connotes much huger than even enormous.) It's been contaminating my office with its omnipresent sound and has been borrowed by many of my friends and colleagues to describe their own enormous bellies, food portions, work load and so on and so forth. Of course, I use it in my context the most, since it somehow gels while describing my expanding derriere.

I love the word `humongous' humongously as of now and look forward to more humongous additions to my vocabulary soon!