Archive for the ‘Irking my nerves’ Category

I’ve been sick. I’ve been getting ass raped by an evil sadistic cold the past couple of days….

I woke up on Thursday with a stuffy nose and a tightness in my chest. I went to work and did my usual things like work my ass off and ran errands after and worked out. These things only made me feel worse. I updated the other blogs and then logged onto MySpace to see, I don’t know….because I was bored. Honestly, I’m starting to wonder why I have that page. I don’t ever really write anything to anyone and I basically ignore most of the messages I get and deny most friend requests.


So, Thursday night I logged on and I see I have a message from a guy on my friend list. This guy asked to be my friend when I first signed up for MySpace and I accepted his request because he said he read my blog and liked it. He seemed kind of normal. He would occasionally send me messages regarding a particular post I’d written and I would write him a little message back. I mean, I felt his messages were no different than what you all leave in the comments….accept they were long and would include things about his personal life. But still, I didn’t mind. I’m a nice person by nature. So, here’s the message:

Ok I just went through your blog. I am sorry again and let me apologize for the male of the species. I will never understand why some men think that showing a picture of a woman with cum all over her face would turn you on. Especially since you’ve never met them. It’s a diiferent thing if you’re in a relationship, but not until then…lol I would love the chance to talk to you on the phone but I guess my chance is not going to happen because of the freaks that you meet online. I would love to talk to you because we share alot of the same likes and dislikes (ie:Food, Wine, Rome…lol). I know that I gave you my phone number and that’s not something that I usually do. I didn’t really expect you to call. I was just feeling a bit rowdy from a few beers and it being around my birthday and all…lol. I would usually ask for a number and then call. I’m sorry if that turned you off to the idea of talking to me. I feel like I write to you about my life and I read about yours on your blog. When you write to me, it’s never more than just a few lines. I read your blog and I want to talk to you about cetain things or ideas (non sexual) and it just seems like a one way conversation. I only want to talk as friends and I don’t want to fuck you. I don’t even really know you. I like to meet someone and know them before I ever have sex with them. For me I need some sort of feeling for them. I would love to get to know you better to just be able to call you and talk to you about “Rome”. That is one of my favorite shows. I also have a strong interest in Rome in general. I am reading a book on Julius Caesar right now. It’s pretty cool because it mainly focuses on his miltary career. It was written by a man who fought in the civil war (our civil war). That whole period of time fascinates me and I think I am well versed in the subject. I know you said that you like Vorenus but I am a huge fan of his counter-part and wife Indira Varma. Huge crush over here..lol. I almost had a heart attack when she killed herself. She was in a movie called “Kama Sutra”. If you ever get a chance to see it please do. I love the soundtrack. Anyway it’s a shame that hosers like the “cum picture guy” and the rest of them get a chance to talk to you and I don’t. I think you would like talking to me because I think I’m pretty smart and have experienced much in life. I have a broad base…lol. It’s ok I guess if you don’t want to get to know me but I think you’re just not giving me a chance for some reason. It’s your reason whatever it is and I can respect that. You’re just missing a chance to have a good friend to have in your arsenal. Fuck…I can even spell…lol. Ok enough trying to convince you why you should be my friend on a more personal level. I hope you do but if not my world will still be intact and I will still write to you. Now I’m going to go make a nice dinner and drink a nice little Malbec I found. It’s called “Kaiken”
and it’s from Argentina.
Have a great night Domina

I wasn’t happy about this. This man doesn’t know me. I don’t know him. Yes, I was a little weirded out that he gave me his number but I just ignored the number and wished him a happy birthday. I had hoped he got the idea that I’m not the type to call without knowing someone. I mean, how many of you have my number? Some of you have been reading my blog for over a year and I still wouldn’t give you my number and you probably wouldn’t give me yours. There are some readers that I’ve never had any contact with outside the comments of our respective blogs. And that’s okay. You all get it. Only 10-15 of you have my number or have a chance to get it. The to the rest of you, although I do sincerely care for you, I’d rather stay “Debbie from Fresh Air Lover” if that’s okay.

The problem with people like the man who wrote that message is that they mistake ‘blog life’ with ‘real life’. The only reason I have a MySpace account is to connect with people I haven’t heard from in a long time (and that’s happened) and to get more traffic for my blog. That’s it. I don’t have time for all of that other MySpace shit. I have a life.

Anyhow, I’m sick of typing about this. I just wanted to post that email to let the people who read this blog know what is going on. I also told my father about the email in case it becomes more than what it is. I don’t think it will, but I can’t trust that. I think that the email was fucking inappropriate, crazy, and obnoxious. Feel free to give me your thoughts on it. I’m probably over-reacting but I just get paranoid. I know that it may seem cruel that I’m saying all of this knowing that this man reads my blog, but I see it as a way to let him know that sending women he doesn’t know messages of this nature makes him seem scary, even if he happens to be a nice guy.

To that man, don’t contact me again. I’ve blocked you from contacting me on MySpace and please don’t email me. I’m not interested.

And for more fun stuff:

My birthday is one week from today. I still don’t have any plans. My gay boyfriend Tim is visiting from NYC and was supposed to take me out last night, but I cancelled because I’m too sick. He’s coming over tonight to give me my present and champagne, and said not to be offended if he’s wearing his Hazmat suit. Bastard.

Other than that, nothing has been going on. I’ve been flat on my back from this cold. At one point yesterday my right nostril and my right eye were leaking. My nose is chapped and red. My voice sounds like someone sandpapered my throat. My back hurts from lying down all day. I did cook a nice big pot of soup yesterday and it was divine.

I’m out of energy. My eyes are watering and I just want to close them.


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My trip to the dentist was okay. I lived. It didn’t take as long as I thought, which was good. I came home and laid on the couch for a little while, and then felt that I needed to tear apart my apartment and clean it. Oh my, do I love to clean! My apartment is sparkling. I even rearranged my living room.

I did not have the shits today. Thankfully. I did laugh my ass off when I reread the post from last night. I’m such a dork.

And here are some thoughts:

My thoughts on white zinfandel wine:
I know that this might be wrong and snobbish, but when someone orders or offers me white zinfandel wine I immediately turn my nose up and think they are a wuss. Don’t worry, I still love the person. I’m not fickle. This probably means I’m a wine snob. So be it.

My thoughts on giving compliments: I’m not one to give loads of compliments. When I say that I like something or that someone is talented, I really mean it. And when I give someone a compliment, I expect a thank you. I don’t want the person to kiss my feet or declare their undying love for me….just a thank you. That’s all I’m saying. Manners. Common courtesy. It says a lot about a person’s character.

My thoughts on black jeans: Don’t wear them. Buy some black pants. This goes for white, red, purple, green, or brown jeans. The only acceptable color for jeans is blue. This rule is for both men and women.

My thoughts on men who are over 35 who live with their parents: Unless your parents are disabled and you are there for their care, you shouldn’t be living with them at that age. And if you are, please don’t email me for a date. End of story.

My thoughts on women who think that their boyfriends should pay all of their bills because they’re men: Get a fucking job. You ruin men for us responsible women who respect the men in our lives.

My thoughts on people that appear on Judge Judy: Keep fucking up because it’s highly entertaining.

Now, the massive 15 person stroke.

i’m okay, you’re okay: Duckie is cool. He has a funny outlook on life. He is self-deprecating, but not too much. He has gorgeous children. He’s a great artist, so go check out his artsy blog too. I think he found my blog first, but I don’t know from where. Go visit him.

Island Spice: She makes me laugh, hard. I picture her as this exotic beauty who has houseboys beating the gorgeous men wanting her away with a stick. My favorite post is this one, where I believe I laughed so hard I shot water out of my nose. Please check her out. She’s worth it.

Joey Porter’s Pit Bulls: He’s a fairly new reader. This blog is a nice mix of sports, humor, reviews, and opinion. He’s funny. He’s a regular commenter here. I think he came from Lozo, but I’m not sure. You need to go over and check him out.

Kat’s Peanut Head
: Another newish reader. She always has great comments. She just started a new job so go over and congratulate her. I like her. She’s good people.

Kav’s Blog: I have no words. He’s one of my favorite bloggers. He makes me laugh before I even start reading his posts. I’m not sure if he found me or I found him. I’m pretty sure half of my blogroll links to him and with good reason. He knows how to write in a way that makes you feel like you’re right there experiencing life with him. He is one of the funniest commenters around. I swear, I’m jealous of his wit. His children are gorgeous. His wife is gorgeous. They’re all gorgeous. If you haven’t visited him, go now.

Let me say this..: She was one of my first readers. She works at the same company I do. She’s a great person and a friend. Go see her.

Lilium Inter Spinas
: This is one of my favorite blogs. She’s a great writer, photography, dog and cat mommy, etc…. I’m pretty sure I’ve like all of her posts and that if she lived closer to me we’d be friends. She just recently cut her gorgeous hair and it looks adorable. These are my favorite posts…this, this, this, and this. Her HNT’s are also very beautiful and tasteful. She’s an awesome blogger and one of my blog gal’s. Kisses.

Liz’s Fun Time Happy Hour: This women is my friend. My buddy. My soul sister. I love her. Seriously, I do. I can’t even pick out a favorite post because I just love her. She was one of my first readers. She is funny and smart and beautiful and just plain awesome. She’s had to make some tough life decisions lately and I’m proud of her. Go see her and say hi.

Looking for Sunshine: Another one of my first readers. I love her blog because she’s smart and writes about topics that are interesting. She’s funny and creative. Go check her out and see for yourself.

Margaritaville: Oh, this chickie rocks. I love her. She’s fucking funny. Hilarious. She’s a sweetie. Someday I will get on a bus or train to see her. She’s not that far away. She is a firefighter, so she saves lives which is just awesome. You have go see her.

Marriage Misadventure!: He is sexy. He has a sexy wife. They have sexy sex. You need to go see for yourself.

Miserable People: This is Shadowdog. This blog is a book he’s writing that covers 365 consecutive days. It’s really good. He also has another blog that’s worth checking out too, MP Extras. Get comfortable and go to his site. You’ll enjoy it.

Much Ado about sumthin!: I found this blog through Lozo. Dear lord, she is fucking funny. Hilarious. Hysterical. Goofy. Charming. Smart. Creative. Her blog has quickly become one of my favorites. I have no words that will do her justice, just go over there.

My Bottom Smarts: This is a blog about spanking. Tastefully, artfully, intelligently done. I love Bonnie. If you are curious about spanking or someone who is into spanking and want to find a community that embraces you, you should check her out.

Phew! That was a lot of stroking. I hope you all do check these blogs out.

And now, I’m going to drink some wine and relax.

Have a great weekend!

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I had a whole post I was going to write about how an old tooth filling of mine fell out last night and how I went to the dentist and he put a temporary filling in and how he gave me pain medication because my mouth aches and how I have to go back to the dentist tomorrow for a root canal.

It was going to be longer and more in depth. And then I took the codeine. Yeah, I’m that much a wimp…codeine is making my brain mushy…deal with it.

I have a huge fear of the dentist. I’m going to have the shits tomorrow morning from this medicine and my nerves. I should take Imodium before I get the shits. You think that will counteract the poo?

You know, I’m talking about the poo because I’m feeling very relaxed right now. Not relaxed enough to poo right at this moment, but relaxed enough to write about my future pooing. I can’t stop myself from typing the word poo.

Poo, poo, poo, poo, poo, poo, poopy, poo, poo, poo.


Okay, I’m done.

I will be stroking 15 people tomorrow. Yeah, I know. I’ll probably have to ice myself after. All that friction, you now. But, please tune in tomorrow for the stroking. I promise to wash my hands in between each so that nobody is getting sloppy seconds or thirds or whatever. Yeah, I know that was gross but I’ve had a bad case of potty humor all day.

And what’s up with men emailing me to ask me if I’m real? Who the fuck do you think is writing this blog? Am I a fictional character that exists only in someone’s mind? Yes, I’m fucking real. I just pinched myself and it hurt even on the codeine. So there.

I’m going to lie down now because I feel so relaxed that you could pour me down the drain. I need to zone out.

Night my sweeties.

One more time…..poo. Hahahaha.

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Um, I did something really stupid this weekend and didn’t think anything would come of it. Well…something came of it and now I’m intrigued. And strangely excited about it. And really angry at myself.

I hope it’s a false alarm. But not really. I’m not really sure what I think.

More on this later.

Do you know what I hate? When people talk to me when I’m eating. I sometimes eat lunch at my desk and while I’m eating I don’t want to be bothered. But it seems like every time lift my fork for my first bite, someone comes over to my desk and starts bothering me. AHHHH. By the time I’m finished talking my lunch is cold. It’s pissing me off.

I came home from work this evening to find my niece and nephew downstairs at my neighbors (the woman downstairs is their grandmother). They both run up to me to say hi. I pick Connor up and give him a huge hug. Nothing feels better than a child hugging you really tight. Oh, he’s a little meatball too. Morgan was sitting on my steps talking to me. Their grandmother came around to talk to me. So, we’re all talking and goofing off when I see Inbred Nephew walking around the corner of the house. He comes over to us and just stands there staring at me. Then all of a sudden, Inbred leans over and tried to take Connor out of my arms. Connor grabs my neck and starts crying. I yell at Inbred and tell him to go away. I had to walk away because I couldn’t curse in front of the kids, but I really wanted to lay into him like nobody’s business.

Deep breath.

I went out with my mother and bought my sister 4 maternity outfits. I’m so excited for her to see them. She’s starting to show and I think she’ll look adorable in those outfits.

Thank you all for your kinds words about the story. I was a little nervous putting it out there like that since I really don’t share my fiction writing with anyone, but I found everything you all said very encouraging. The next installment should be ready next week.

I joined MySpace. I am weak. I know it. I have 5 friends. Some people have hundreds, but I’m really picky. By the way, I’ve already had 17 friend requests and 95% have come from little 20 year old boys wanting a date. First of all, I didn’t even say I was looking for dates on there, just friends. That’s it. Second of all, why the fuck do I attract little kids. Third of all, hey little boys who think I’ll be interested in them–you’re not ready for a woman like me. I’m just not the type of girl you practice on. Go bother somebody stupid. I forgot how entertaining this shit was.

All I have left to say is….Eh. I’m tired. I’m bleeding. I’m bloated. I’m achy. I’m going to bed.

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I don’t have anything to say. I’m sorry. There’s nothing going on. I have nothing to rant about. Greasy is still annoying me, but what else is new. The weather sucks, humid and hot and overcast.

The ‘jammies’ weekend was a success. I wish I was still there, on my big couch, drinking tea.

I want a formal apology from the broadcast networks for wasting my time with that fruit John Karr. Hey, I could have told you he didn’t do it. Why, oh why, must the news agencies replace real news with this shit. Pisses me off.

I’ll leave you all with a funny story from when I managed a bookstore a couple years ago. The asshole lady was one of our regular customers who drove me crazy at least once a week. This was right around the time when Harry Potter was becoming popular. The books were on the bestseller list, but it wasn’t the frenzy it is now.

Asshole lady: Excuse me, but do you have the books written by Harriet Potter?
Me (knowing exactly what she’s looking for, but being too bitter to care): The books written by Harriet Potter?
AL: Yes.
Me: Are you sure you want books written by Harriet Potter? That’s the author.
Me (looking up the author Harriet Potter): No, we don’t have any books by Harriet Potter.
AL: You’re kidding. Her books are very popular children’s books. You have to have them.
Me (turning the monitor for her to see): Look. No books by Harriet Potter.
AL: That’s strange.

She walks off. About an hour later she comes back with Harry Potter 1 & 2 in her hands and yells at me.

AL: I meant these books. You had them
Me: Oh yeah, Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling. We have hundreds of copies of those. Right there on the bestseller list.
AL: You knew what I meant, smartass.
Me: Oh no. I never assume anything. Besides, I asked you if you were sure and you said yes.
AL: Bitch.
Me: Have a lovely and enchanting day!

I’m so glad I don’t work there anymore, but I miss fucking with the customers.

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I can’t believe this weekend is over. It seemed too short. I don’t want the work week to start.

Let’s see, what happened this weekend? Oh yes…

I went to a really bad outdoor concert on Friday night. It was at the community center in my hometown and I saw about 30 people I went to high school with. I only remembered one person’s name. I’m an asshole. About a dozen of my old classmates came up to me, saying they’d know my face anywhere and I couldn’t remember their names. I just stood there nodding and smiling and asking general questions.

The weirdest moment of the night was when a woman came up to me and asked me if I knew her. I said no and she said that the last time she saw me I was 11 years old (which made me wonder why the fuck she would think I’d remember her) and that she used to babysit me. I was still giving her my blank dumb stare until she explained who she was exactly. Let me break it down for you…she was 19 when she babysat me and she’s now 40 and she expects me to recognize her. Anyhow, she also told me that I have the same face as I did when I was a kid. Is this a good thing, having the same face? Well, I guess she needed someone to hang out with because she stayed at my table the whole night and at one point tried to get me to dance (Um, I just can’t dance to a bad band playing Fleetwood Mac). At one point she started dirty dancing and grinding herself into me to get me moving. I told her I just wanted to relax. But really, why would she think that grinding on me would get me in any other mood but the annoyed mood?

Yesterday I read and worked out and read and chilled out. I ordered my sister The Girlfriend’s Guide to Pregnancy and What to Expect When You’re Expecting from Amazon as a surprise. The highlight of my day was when I went out in the backyard before working out to ask my downstairs neighbor (the woman) if she minded if I washed my laundry on Sunday and Inbred nephew says the following, “Are you losing weight? I mean, you weren’t that thick before but now you’re getting tight.” I don’t answer because he’s a moron and he continues, “I’ll work you out if you need some exercise” and then he stuck out his tongue and wagged his eyebrows like that was going to do it for me. I rolled my eyes and continued my conversation with the woman.

After working out I said hello to the old lady next door and her gentleman guest. I was sitting with me feet up on another chair when my downstairs neighbors dog came over for a treat. As the old lady was giving the dog a treat, Inbred came over to get the dog and says to me, “You’re teasing real nice with your legs up like that. I like it.” and walks away.

This is why I never go outside when he’s there. He’s followed me up the stairs of my apartment before, he’s knocked on my door, he’s yelled up from the yard when I’ve had the windows open. I guess they don’t make them like me at the trailer park. But, last night was over the line. Do you know how embarrassing it was to have someone say that in front of two old people? I want to run him over with my car.

Today wasn’t that interesting and but it did end with some inappropriate comments from an unlikely source. I did my Sunday thing of laundry and cleaning. After all of that, I was invited to dinner at the old lady’s house. I got there and we were drinking and having a great time. The old lady is a food pusher and chastised me for being full on my dinner. So, anyhow as I was getting ready to leave the old guy who’s staying with her says to me, “So does this mean I’m not getting a lapdance?” I laughed nervously and said, “No, not tonight.” The old lady says, “Stop teasing her.” And he says, “You mind your business, I’m not teasing her. I might die before I ever get a lapdance and I thought this young lady might oblige me.” I politely said that I had ironing to do and went home. I guess I didn’t need to be embarrassed the night before by what Inbred said in front of the oldies.

So, let me break the week down.

  • I get told that I have the ‘titty-fuck’ look by some obnoxious, voice like Marge Simpson’s sisters, bitch who I want to destroy with superpowers.
  • Apparently, my face looks the same as it did when I was 5.
  • My old babysitter, who I didn’t recognize and haven’t seen for 20 years, was grinding herself on me in an attempt to get me to dance to horrible music.
  • I’m told by Inbred that he’d work me out and that sitting with my feet up on a chair is a tease, with tongue out and an eyebrow wag.
  • A 79 year old man asks me for a lapdance and I’m pretty sure he was serious.


Needless to say that I’m staying in this week and next weekend. The fuckers can annoy the shit out of someone else.

I did hear a bit of good news this weekend and I won’t elaborate yet, but it gives me hope. And having a little hope isn’t a bad thing.

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Oh shit. This weekend was nuts and I’m pooped.

Today was hellish.

I got up and read the New York Times on my laptop with a cup of coffee. It was gorgeous. After, I had to run some errands and get ready for the dreaded barbecue.

Got to the barbecue and was convinced that the surface of the sun couldn’t be much hotter. Their yard was completely covered by tents that didn’t let any air in. They had two box fans blowing nothing but hot air and I really thought I was going to pass out. I brought my own cooler with beer (because they always have the shittiest beer there) and ended up not drinking the beer but was rubbing the cold bottles over my neck and wrists. At one point, I even put a bottle under each armpit. The heat was oppressive. I had no fun.

I thought going to the barbecue with my mom and stepdad would be a good idea, as they didn’t want to stay long. Well, they started talking to someone and we ended up staying there for over 5 hours. There was air conditioning in the house, but it smelled like cat piss inside and that smell makes me sick. I’d rather be hot. And that’s exactly what I was.

So, after coming home and a cold shower and comfy clothes–I’m here chilling on my couch and writing this post and reading blogs. God, it’s going to take me weeks to stop talking about how great having a laptop is.

Okay, here are some pictures that I took yesterday that I didn’t feel like dealing with in my previous post.

This is one of the reasons why I love NJ diners. The old-fashioned jukebox at each table. We played Frank Sinatra.

This is for Hotwire. My scrapple. It’s a regional delicacy and it’s delicious. Don’t ask what’s it’s made from. You don’t want to know.

These woman were wearing boxer shorts. Out in public at the flea market. Do you see the droopy asses of the boxers? You wouldn’t catch me dead in something like this.

I’m pretty sure that if you were to take these dolls home they would try to kill you once you fall asleep. They are creepy.

This is my little Stella Marie. Isn’t she gorgeous?

Tomorrow I get to sleep in and relax the whole day. I will detox. I’m only eating my homemade organic spinach florentine canneloni bean soup and drinking herbal tea. Because this weekend’s overindulgence is taking its toll. I really feel like shit.

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Last night I went over to the old lady next door’s house to give her back a container and she answered the door in her underwear. Yup, bra and panties (well, bloomers really). She invited me inside and then sat on the couch like she wasn’t in her underwear and started telling me about her pond in the backyard. I didn’t know where to look, so I stared just above her head.

My kitty, Stella, must have had poo stuck to her tail again. It’s the only reason I can come up with for why I stepped on a turd in the middle of the kitchen. In my bare feet. After gagging and cleaning off my foot and the floor, I found the little pisser and I was right, there was poop on her tail. So, I had to wash her off. This is probably the third time I’ve done this since I got her. Love is a powerful thing if it makes one clean shit off another.

I have finally committed myself to writing my book. I put it aside this past year because it’s kind of dark and it was getting too painful to write. But, I’m committed to finishing it. Because I don’t have anything better to do.

This morning while driving to work I saw a man, alone, sitting on his motocycle in a preschool parking lot. He was gazing into the sky. And all I could think about was this picture cause I’m a sick woman:

That’s all I have. Really. I’m boring. And bored.

UPDATE: I just called someone a dirty condom. I was on the phone with some guy who works for a pharmaceutical company and who can suck my asshole. He was giving me shit about me not being able to release an article to him (he’s not the fucking author, so tell me why he should get the article–he’s not offering me any free drugs, is he?). After 10 minutes of repeating myself to point of insanity, we hung up. That’s when I gave the phone a double middle finger and said, “You dirty condom.” I’m really sad because that’s the best I could come up with today.

In other news, my friend just called me because she needed my advice. It’s her husband’s birthday and she wants to give him some ass lovin’ tonight. I told her to go buy a book because I’m cranky and since I’m not getting any sex–I won’t be dispensing any fucking sex advice. She told me she’d buy me an ice cream cone (can you tell we’ve been friends for a long time), but I said NO. She said she’d buy me a drink and I said NO. She said she’d buy me dinner, a drink, and dessert and I told her to use a lot of lube, go slow, relax, open her sphincter like she was going to take a shit, and make sure the hubby doesn’t pull out too fast. It shouldn’t hurt if you follow those instructions, I told her. I also told her to remind her husband that just because he’s doing something “dirty” and excited about it–he best not forget to play with her clitoris. Then my lovely friend goes and pisses me off by saying that if it works, then she’ll call me to set up dinner. WHAT?!!!!? I give her my special secret when I’m getting no lovin’ and I’m cranky and she’s changing the deal! She’s lucky I’m at work, cause I’m cranky enough to give her a purple nurple.

I wonder if anyone else is going to piss me off today. Come on. Bring it on.

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