So I went to a minor league baseball game with my Partner in Crime last night. We were lured by the promise of dollar beer, dollar hot dogs, dollar seats, dollar popcorn, and a venue that sanctions things like raucous yelling and throwing crap instead of that being grounds to call security like all the other places in which I tend to belt out
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My tongue feels furry now.
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Yeah, you're thinking of the east siiiiide. We only get all the leathery half-naked midwestern front-butts here. The northeasterners flow down I-95 like it's a spigot for jackasses.
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