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| When a coworker proposed an English Pub for lunch today, I replied –in a near yell– “I am not made of money”. I could actually see the words leaving my mouth and wanted to lasso them back inside- the same way you want to cover your mouth when ruining a surprise birthday party. My youth is officially over, but it has been circling the drain for months (if not longer). This winter alone, I have:
- asked some one if “they use the Twitter?”
- yelled at a total stranger to dress warmer.
- loudly denied falling asleep on the couch during a movie.
- insisted on speaking to a manager at Dunkin Donuts
- made a pun when talking to a female bartender.
(in semi related, but exponentially more serious news: I am thinking about giving myself a
comb-over this weekend. Every one has an ironic, handle-bar mustache now-a-days, but no one has a comb over. I think
its the most hilarious of all hair styles)
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