Email from Matt - working out the evening's plans:
We will fly to Italy fueled by the juice of three onions. We shall land in Tuscany, where we can snack on young parmesan. We will grab some wine, and burrow through the Earth's crust to deepest, darkest Africa. We will love green things, and taste bright colors. The spectrum will span from honey to molasses. We will evaporate into the ether and we will drink people's dreams like wine. There will be much rejoicing. There will be no pain.
They Call Me... Tater Salad
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But that's *still *not as silly as Mary's nickname:
Kinda makes you wonder how she got it.
Or if it has anything to do with that plastic thing in a bag t...

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