First few nights of NY were a bust. Bad food, comfort level at a 0, and my family consistently ditching me in the middle of the night. For a while there, I thought for sure Chuckles was trying to tell me something in his oh-so-suttlesuddlesubtle way, but I shouldn't have doubted our familial bond. Instead, he's seen fit to throw a little bit of a
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Bring vodka.
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I'll provide the rocks. For the drink.
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I'm bringing him out of his shell, clearly.
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Good fucking luck.
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You going to make it? I hear someone's grandma's bringing fondue and beer is somehow involved in said fondue. I have to admit. I'm curious.
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Hi Jess.
Well. It was.
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