This is about you tricking me into accepting therapy or intervention or commitment to that mental hospital or agreeing to move out of your attic, isn’t it? Grrrrrrrr.
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Grrrrrrr.
Hmmmmm, food for thought. Definitely food for thought. (Randy D makes a notation in the dossier.)
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Listen, I’ve been meaning to ask you about that spare bedroom of yours . . .
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So your invitations put me right next to you in your bed? I’m in, Baby!
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