Dear Bonne mots,
You have been scooting off to canoodle, leaving us to wilt like neglected houseplants and now you want to complain?
But, it seems gone are the days when we could insinuate ourselves into your plans with - what the HELL is her name anyway?
I suppose we could try to bromance Dr. M, but, well, that might just be awkward.
Maybe Scrabble?
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Every normal man must be tempted at times to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin to slit throats. - H. L. Mencken
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