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1982 in sports, bruce boa, kink, hip hop, lions gate, freemp3s, edward furlong, 1981 in sports, gratis, richard bright, art chudabala, songs, crash(widescreen edition), fontana labs, poetry, wtmotherf, But I allowed the bug man into my wizardsof haute couture home, asked him to excuse the mess, and went back to the news. But not before letting him know that I had a fresh pot of coffee if he'd like a cup. I was hoping for a "no thank you," simply because I was out of styrofoam cups, and I didn't feel like entertaining... But instead, I got a strange response: "Yeah, we've been meaning to have coffee for a few months now, haven't we?" WTF? Whatever. wizardsof haute couture I stumbled into the Kitchen to wizardsof haute couture refill my own mug and asked him how he took his. "Let me go ahead and do the outside, then I'll come in and have a cup." Again: WTF? Sigh. So much for getting rid of him early. No way I was changing clothes while he circled the house, but I used the time to brush the hair and pull it back into a ponytail, straighten up a bit, etc. When he came back in, he asked to use my restroom.
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He set it up for 3pm...with my voice mail. I showed at 3:15, annoyed, explained that three is the exact time my daughter is to be picked up from school, and requested that I be allowed to retain the 8am bruce boa slot...any 8am slot. He seemed offended that I didn't like the time he had especially picked out for me, but reluctantly obliged. And this bruce boa guy was no intriguing Gomer/Forest hybrid, no intriguing anything really, just a boring-looking, receding little man with a hick accent and a missing tooth on the bottom. Less than thrilled, I have still upheld bruce boa my end of the bargain, being that if I choose to reside within Dixie-limits, I am duty-bound to extend southern hospitality to any person whom I invite into my home. So yesterday, as I sat with my first cup of coffee, attempting to bring Fox News into focus at 7:50am, I was only mildly annoyed when the doorbell rang. Ah yes, it's the third Friday now. I remember. My house looked like hell, and clad in a sweatshirt, yoga pants, and untamed hair that had been put to bed damp, I was looking hellacious myself.
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