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Now this'll make you swear off beef (if the threat of mad-cow disease doesn't):

I dropped everything and held my breath. This could not be happening. This was not my life. I began panting, all alone in a locked cubicle in a half-decent restaurant with a dead tapeworm hanging out my ass.



This page contains a single entry from the blog posted on June 14, 2005 4:51 PM.

The previous post in this blog was Hang in There Baby.

The next post in this blog is Holding Pattern.

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