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I was suppose to be sitting on a beach in Navarre, FL this week. Instead, I'm stuck in a house with an increasing hostile female that sorta resembles my wife. Seems that her not being able to get her hair cut and go to the nail salon is somehow a national crisis...
 
Everyone used to laugh at my stockpile of whiskey, now they are asking for some.
 
Have I ever mentioned I hate preparing taxes.
 
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