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Originally Posted by DaneMcCloud
Cool, thanks.
It just felt so much like "paint by numbers". My wife hated it and predicted the first 30 minutes to a tee. Add to that the horrible score and we just said **** it.
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Out loud? At the same time? cool.
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My dear girl, there are some things that just aren’t done. Such as, drinking Dom Perignon ’53 above the temperature of 38 degrees Fahrenheit. That’s just as bad as listening to the Beatles without earmuffs.
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