What, no “anti-Randy D” personalized license plate for you? Maybe that’s a step forward, it means that you and I can move ahead in our relationship!
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“ . . . and laughed again and then thought about how not funny child abuse is and then had that age-old internal debate (Am I a terrible person because I appreciate dark humor?).”
Ok, Welby Quentin, how did you hack into Ansley’s account and post your second-guessing neurosis as if she had done it? And what have you done with her? Dude, if you’ve hurt even one strand of hair on her head . . . GRRRRRRR.
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Prosecution’s exhibit number one has quite obviously and blatantly been photoshopped! There’s no way I could be found guilty. I’m just glad it’s an all-woman jury too. That always works out in my favor.
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Listen, you’ve also been so kind and helpful to me over the fast few years; would you mind doing me the favor of slipping past the doorman and the security guards to speak with this er, um, a “business associate” of mine, please. Make sure no one knows you’re talking to her, then quietly let her know she needs to meet me tomorrow evening at 8-ish at my temporary home office located on the penthouse level of the Loving Arms, a residential hotel located on 101 Swank Street in Upper Manhattan. Thanks, you’re a dear, I don’t know what I would do without you. I’ll have brunch with you someday soon when my schedule opens up. Now run along!
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And for me too?
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No, I don’t understand your post at all, not in the slightest. My thumbs-up above was in reference to Livvie offering to make a license plate for you; I’m merely glomming on by asking her for one of my own also.
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Thank you but no thank you. I have this weird aversion to when people tell me or ask me to Google something. That’s not a reflection on you at all, it’s not anything against you, it’s just how I am. If I had been curious enough or interested enough to go to Google or even any other reference source when I first read your answer, I would have done it on my own without any nudging from anyone else.
We’ll chalk it up to my loss.
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