My apologies. Most sincerely. It's one of those things. You've transgressed (or, rather, I'VE transgressed) and you don't know how to go about sticking your head back out and apologizing and starting again without seeming like a liar and a person who is full of himself and without trying to be the abuser who says, "no, really, it won't ever
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That's all. No, wait... are you still in St Louis? Where's the bookstore? I love your kitty's name. And glad to hear you are happy.
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P.S. Zune, pfft. I will fight you.
P.P.S. That food sounds like 7 times gross.
P.P.P.S. Bookstore, eh? I am intrigued and look forward to your continuing narration.
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I am delighted to hear of your happiness in partnertude and possible used bookstore buying. I recommend you call it Captain Underpants Reads Nightly.
I am sorry to report L'il Duce will be in kindergarten next year. And I've taught her the phrase "flat yield curve" and the essential framework of representative democracy. But she still loves The Simpsons and the occasion bout of gibberish, so there's that.
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