Mind you, it’s neither wilted nor rotten, it’s just been in the refrigerator for a while and isn’t as daisy-fresh as it could be. I don’t like throwing away food, I consider that to be akin to sinning, and the fiber celery provides surely can’t be greatly reduced by it just being a bit old.
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Who are you again? I don’t recognize you, I don’t think I know you at all. What’s my name, why am I here, what are all those Grammar Police commendation awards doing on my walls, and why do they have Randall D Randall listed as the recipient? Where’s my oatmeal? I’m so confused.
You should be leaving me alone; your cats are trying to talk to you and you’re just ignoring them. Grrrrrrrr.
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Thank you.
(How does one say thank you in Aussie-speak? Grrr.)
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Gee, thanks! Hey, wait a second here . . .
Sometimes, not always, just sometimes, I get the impression that you don’t really want the best for me. Grrrrrrr.