Inquiring minds have been asking for more information about my night with The Shmata Queen. I could tell you about the ballroom dancing. Who knew that a tuxedo and long dress could do so much for people.
Or I could tell you about the Chicken Marengo she cooked and how it helped me get better acquainted with the bathroom. But something tells me that if I go into too much detail she'll take that grandma sized black purse and hit me...again.
So I'll have to stick to more mundane stories. And I promise not to say anything about the toilet paper that was stuck to her shoe. Ok, I said it, but I also proved that chivalry isn't dead by removing it.
Oh so many stories to tell and so little time. What to do, what to do.
"When you're in jail, a good friend will be trying to bail you out. A best friend will be in the cell next to you saying, 'Damn, that was fun'." — Groucho Marx
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Dude, sounds like she tried to poison you.
If you only knew.
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