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Neither do I.
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So, it's settled.
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What do you say we order in at your place tonight?
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Actually, I would love to, but, um,
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Stephie and Joseph are making blood sausage tonight,
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which is either a euphemism or the real thing.
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Either way, I want no part of it.
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What about your place?
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Stu's auditioning steel drummers
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for the reggae band that he's never gonna form.
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I'm still glad we're not moving in.
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Just wasn't the right time.