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Guess where I’m going on Sunday? A NASCAR race. Have I ever told you how much I HATE NASCAR? Well, I do. Watching cars go around and around and around is not my idea of a fun time. Also, it’s business related. Have I ever told you how much I HATE business related events? Well, I do.

Mr. P is type-A. He lives for this sort of thing.  Not me.  Mr. P. knows this to be true.

So, because of my natural beauty and pleasant disposition, I said,
“Do you want me to go with you because I’m arm candy?”

And that’s what I said to Mr. P immediately before he fell out of his chair in hysterics, thereby injuring himself…which he, naturally, deserved.

The story is absolutely true – except for the part about Mr. P injuring himself.
And the beautiful part.

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