Time check, mutha fuckas. 4:23 in the PM. Eastern standard time for all you stank-ass west coast hobos in the hizzle. Me? I'm angling to shove off this office coil in a few of what the Pasadena Amish call "minutes." That's right, ladies and germs, the weekend, in and of itself, is about to begin. I mean, I feel like it's October 27, 2004, and
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