I once knew a COPD patient (nicknamed Looney-Belle) whose son once assited her in smoking a cig by plugging it into her oxygen feed-line. SHE CAUGHT "A-FIRE". She would also, by her own account, wet the kitchen floor whenever 'the oven bell' went off.
It's been 15 years, but I can still do a spot-on impersonation.
On topic: last night, I got over my hatred of mole. The Turkey-mole taco at Torchy's is to die for.
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