Good news: getting a lot of writing done. Bad news: the last slat fell out of my bed late last night and I had to sleep, for inferior values of "sleep," on the couch. Explanation of bad news: I have an old hand-me-down queen-sized bed (it has appeared in Secret Life pictures a couple of times) that I ended up with after my mother and stepfather got
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"DON'T WORRY, NOTHING'S CHANGED, IT'S STILL WHITE WINE. NOBODY'S COME ALONG AND TURNED IT INTO WATER FOR A PARTY TRICK. YOU CAN STILL GET DRUNK OFF THIS!"
Hee.
Just checked for funsies, incidentally, and all that's under my bed are some old posters and flattened boxes and I feel cheated.
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"DEAR DIARY, STILL WHITE WINE. WANTED TO BE A CABERNET. IT'S ALL MY MOTHER'S FAULT!"
Or possibly an identity crisis and needed a reminder:
"HELLO, MY NAME IS STILL WHITE WINE. I AM NOT A SPARKLING VARIETY AND I NEVER HAVE BEEN."
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Enjoy your mystery wine. =D
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At least your mystery booze is drinkable?
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Man, that sounds like Aristocrat vodka. Swear to God, that stuff was like paint thinner. Oh, college.
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We used to drink Aristocrat mixed in with Route 44-sized Sonic slushes back in college. It was the only way to kill the burn, plus had the added benefit of letting a person wander around campus while drinking. Hypothetically. Not that I ever participated in such activity while under the legal drinking age. Nope, not me.
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BRB, dying of laughter...
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