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Ever have one of those days when
you wake up and head to the bathroom to do your morning ritual
when you realize you're not in your apartment and you can't
remember anything from the night before? Your head is pounding,
your eyes are glazed over and the acidic taste of vomit is
creeping up your throat. Yep ladies and gent's, you have
yourself a good ol' fashioned hang over.
Panic sets in. You frantically
scour your new found friend's bedroom looking for your car keys
when suddenly, it hits you. You don't have a car. You think to yourself,
"I should really get these memory lapses checked out. While
a blood alcohol level of 3% is legal, I don't think its safe to
keep that a constant. Anyway, screw it." You blast out of
her apartment like a bat out of hell, go flying down the
staircase out of the complex down the street and before you know
it your face down on the sidewalk sputtering and gasping for
air. You slowly stand up and plop down on the nearest bench.
Your sweating like an albino in the Arab desert. "I gotta
get into shape" you think to yourself. You reach into your
pocket to grab a tissue to sop up the buckets of oily ooze
leaking from your pores. Unfortunately you can't find any
tissues but do find a mint condition O'Henry bar still perfectly
sealed. You crack the bad boy open
before you can say bob's your uncle and indulge in the sweet
sinful creaminess.
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