Usually, no matter how open-minded, a guy would never flip through the evening newspaper while smoking a pipe and then think to himself, "Hurm, Bridget Jones's Diary, I could go for some of that," but, for whatever reason, I recently went through a small spate of chick flicks. I think there's a certain part of my brain that needed to be soaked in
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"*BEEP* *BEEP* NO."
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