Phlegm and men and oversized easychairs.
I'm stuck with it, but this time "it" has tangible repercussions.
Condemned to listen to the year inaccurately in review,
a sad clown's death rattle, and all there is to eat comes from
assembly line gift baskets when all I need is a cough represser.
Crummy peanut butter blossoms aren't doing the trick this year.
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