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I just remembered a story I can tell. Once again, I had to delete it. But it involved too much alcohol, an acquaintance that wanted my drunk friend and I to beat it so he could put his moves on a gal without us around, with him giving us the keys to his 740IL, with us deciding to go to Vegas (from Montecito), with excessive speeding on the freeway, and with acquaintance striking out with gal, realizing his horrible error, and reporting his car as stolen. Not a real good memory.
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Why do things that happen to white trash always happen to me?
Got nachos?
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