Last night I was drinking a fifth of 100 proof hot damn through a straw, straight from the bottle. I have a sneaky suspicion that this may have been in direct correlation to the pounding headache I awoke with.
When we leave parties, they die. When we go to the bar, we always get the corner booth. When we're at the cafeteria, we get served only the finest Chicken Broccoli Bake. We always play it like Steve McQueen.
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