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Sunday, 19 November, 2006

I hadn’t eaten in about 36 hours so I … well, I had a McRib, okay. Fuck you.

Roughly 45 minutes after wadding up the wrapper I entered the Gentlemen’s and exposited a generous supply of what can only be described as orange foam.

As I announced to my crew of one that I was departing due to the pressure in my head and the plasticy acid smell coating my sinuses, she gazed upon me with subtle horror.

It’s a good thing I have seventy-some-odd sick hours coming to me. I think I will use a few. Do not contact me unless you are willing to gamble upon being covered in acrid orange foam.

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