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SouthernWingsFan

The person below me game...

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I am allergic to almost every perfume/cologne/aftershave on the planet. I get near someone wearing a "normal" amount and my eyes water, I get sick to my stomach, and I get a headache. The more they wear, the worse I get. I've quit jobs over it. People can't be prevented from wearing it. Apparently it is included in the right to bare arms. You can't force people not to wear it or tone it down. *******.

The person below me is GOING OFF on everything today.

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Which part? Yeah. If we could afford to feed, clothe, house and care for everyone who needed it, wouldn't we already be doing it? Or we just a bunch of bastards who don't care about people? If the government has to step in and force us to do it, we don't deserve whatever benefits it will produce until it runs out of money. We'd be doing it with volunteers instead of a system that charges us to collect the money, charges us to spend it, and then screws up everything in triplicate.

(I told you I was GOING OFF on everything today. I usually don't even discuss politics because I can't stand either party. I'm a bleeding heart libertarian: Give to people who truly need it and give the ones who just want it a kick in the butt to go get it themselves.)

The person below me is verbose today.

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The person below me has no life and hangs out at home on Friday nights.

uh, yep! That's me. Not even any decent hockey on to waste the evening, to boot.

The person below me likes to wade in the surf at the ocean (or lake)

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I am not much of a crier, when it comes to those kinds of games. I was breathing though, in a brown paper bag through parts of game 5, in the 2008 SCF during overtime.

The person below me has puked at a bar/club, and now wants to elaborate with their reply.

Edited by miller76

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I had a sore throat at the beginning of the night, and by the end of the night it was very sore, so I was going to leave. My friend (who was a bartender) suggested a certain drink to clean out my throat. I could hardly swallow, but I tried it anyway and choked. Once I choked, I started gagging, rushed the can, and made it to the toilet. I found out later that I clogged the toilet and my friend had to plumb it. It turned out that I had a nasty case of strep throat.

The person below me has patio furniture.

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I concur wholeheartedly. Now if an old man says it to me in a bar, I will discuss politics, blonde and red-head chicks, etc. and I hope that he leaves his fortune to someone he barely knew.

(For those of you who are completely confused: it's a song.)

The person below me has a hard time saying our (US) President's first name without sounding like a chicken.

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