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September 14, 2016

Sometime in the '80s, I went on a date with some schmuck who shushed me when I laughed in his bedroom in his mommy's house.  There's so much wrong with that scenario, just seeing the words in front of me, that I can't believe I allowed anything to progress on what was probably a twin bed decked out in poly-blend sheets festooned with cowboys and/or rocketships.  I just looked him up on Facebook (because of course I remember his name).  What a surprise that he's now a dusty shlub with a beige wife.  They look like a barrel of laughs.