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Paul'S PlacE ❗ ⭕❗⭕ ❗⭕
These stories and irreverent points of view usually make sense... to me.
I hope you.ll share my smile.
(©April 2018-22 May - Paul)
Keywords | Title View | Refer to a Friend |
I Have Insider Information... About Who Runs This Web Site... You Will Be Shocked... 😮
Posted:May 2, 2020 9:43 am
Last Updated:Nov 14, 2020 3:34 pm
I have the inside scoop on why things HERE - run the way they do. A video call to the Bobs - CIO and CEO of 'A F F' - and voilà ; ALL... was revealed to me.

Last Friday, I cam called 'The Bobs' private number - via ZOOM. They've been quarantined at 'A F F' headquarters - together now - for the last seven weeks and were VERY happy to hear my voice. We talked about the virus and their families and mine... and then, they both started dipping into the scotch. I was plowing forward with my vodka, pineapple slushies. Things were rolling along comfortably and we all had a warm buzz on when we got down to some serous business ; I asked the HARD question.

"Bob... What the fuck is wrong with the 'A F F' website?"

One of the Bobs (I still can't tell who's who), stumbled forward and blurted his answer to me. Actually - it was more of a confession.

"Paul... We experimented with new technology but we fucked up. We've been using trained monkeys to manage all our IT infrastructure."

I was in shock. I'd never heard of trained monkeys managing computer software or hardware. Supposedly the Chinese had recommended this technology to the Bobs - and, they bought it. Bob continued with his explanation...

"Paul... Blame the fucking monkeys. Those assholes write the HTML script, update all the bugs and manage everything related to how this place performs on the web," Bob continued.

Now... we've all experienced the issues that plague this place. From non existent performance on IM to the interminable delays between blog post visibility and comments as well as to the lost and deleted words and letters - missing in every post ; including THIS one.

Turns out it has nothing to do with lack of investment in new technology or aging servers with poor web design and ancient computer code...

It is solely due to - poorly trained monkeys.

One of the Bobs, admitted that they were attempting to get their money back. But the Chinese, weren't answering their phones. So... we're all stuck with this mess for an indefinite period of time.

I was about to ask why, they decided to cancel the popular - "Ice Breaker Program". Unfortunately, one of the Bobs had to run to the bathroom to throw up and the other, had fallen off his chair and was having difficulty standing up.

I left it at that, with a promise from him ; they would keep trying their best. We toasted to freedom and social distancing and I ended the cam call with renewed respect for our leaders - over at HQ. At least, they are trying their best.

Is there anything more one can expect?
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You Have to Wash Your Balls... Once In A While 😊
Posted:Apr 28, 2020 12:41 pm
Last Updated:Nov 14, 2020 3:32 pm
I listened a conversation the other day...

"He's gripping down on his shaft, Tom," she murmured.

"Is his shaft stiffer than normal Lori? And his head - looks huge ! Do you think that'll benefit him here?" Tom replied inquisitively.

"Well... let's face it - he's got incredible length," Lori added admiringly. "That little bit of extra, will definitely help."

"His shaft does, seem very stiff... and longer than average," Tom agreed.

"It is, but his grip is soft and his stroke is smooth."

Seconds passed... until her voice soothingly whispered again ; "I can see their balls from where I am. They're perfectly positioned and they look very good but... they're all wet."

"It looks extremely moist down there. Will that affect him?" Tom inquired.

"I'm pretty sure, he's used to this. I think he'll know how to get it up and in - even in slippery conditions."

A minute more passed, before I heard Lori's sultry tone again. "They're on the mound and they've been able to clean their balls. The challenge now will be... how to handle those gentle humps."

"Good point Lori. Although sneaking it in the back door, is something that I've seen him do - many times."

"He's got a choice to try and bang it in the bac.. or slip it in... gently. And I don't think he'll mind, either way it gets in," Lori suggested.

"Good point Lori. He'll be satisfied, no matter how it gets in ."

"That's true Tom, yet every hole should be respected. And you don't want to shave it too close," Lori affirmed. "Here he goes. Oh... and... it slowly leaked down the right side of the hole and dribbled by."

"Well... he pulled it. We just watched him jerk it."

"He got it close to the hole, then it kissed the lip and slipped out. I must say... this threesome is still smiling and having fun. They've just begun to and the next hole, will be an easy one reach," Lori declared.

"It's the easiest par on a very, very hard course Lori. I played a round here last week and I'll admit ; I only hit two good balls. I accidentally stepped on a rake."

I listened... as Lori choked, on her microphone.
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Dick And Jane... Played A Game... 🔥💦😮
Posted:Apr 23, 2020 10:54 am
Last Updated:May 10, 2020 7:28 am
Part of my 'Eezzee Reed Series' ; for those who find words tiresome.
Plenty of pics though.
👍 😶

Dick and Jane had safely camped in their house - during the 'great confinement'. They were creative yet occasionally, boredom, tried to peer in. And that's when Jane looked at Dick and smiled slyly. He knew, what SHE wanted HIM to do.

See Dick.
See Dick run.
Run Dick run.
Run to the table Dick.
Run to that 'special' table in the basement,
get naked and lie down.

See Jane
Run Jane run.
Run up to the table Jane.
Tie naked Dick,
with the leather and chain bindings.
See Jane grin a wicked grin.
See Jane Tighten the straps and watch...
... as Dick's cock...
... got rock hard.

There would be no mercy for Dick - even if he begged.
Jane might not let him cum, even if Dick's dick, twitched and throbbed in anguished delirium ; even if Dick pleaded.

"Are you ready babe?" Jane asked as she began to play with Dick.

Dick trembled as Jane's feathered crop...
brushed his balls...
and her fingers painted circles,
around the tip of his already glistening cock.

How long would Dick last?
A better question was ; how long would Jane let him last? 🤔

Ahhh... boredom ; the bane of our current confined existence - for some.
For others? Let the games begin.

*Note : Clic the pic to enlarge it.

. ..
The New Normal Depends... On What You Wear... 😮😎
Posted:Apr 20, 2020 10:53 am
Last Updated:Aug 27, 2020 1:30 pm
These days - normal doesn't exist. Yet one can always create a facsimile, if you know what you're doing. And I do.

Now, you shouldn't try any of this where you live ; I am - a trained professional.

My 'new' typical day begins, as I slip on my (Amazon advertised) 'Special Anti-Viral Suit' and head out the door. That morning, a quick drive down barren streets found me at my mechanic's shop. He'd opened his doors - and happily agreed to change my winter tires for the summer ones. Except for his German Sheppard - who kept sniffing my crotch and trying to hump my leg - everything went smoothly.

When I got back into the car, I felt free... like you'd feel when you ditch your glumpy boots and put on a pair of runners - after a long winter. The car OBVIOUSLY, drove substantially faster and was much more agile. Was that simply my dormant, winterized imagination overreacting? I think not!

As I roared towards my next errand - along empty highways and through non existent rush hour traffic - I marvelled at the open roads. I'll admit that the lack of ANY gridlock on the byways of this city ( a casualty of this 'worldly bug' ), is something that I relish. Did I mention that my car was more nimble? Before long I'd arrived at my grocer.

The line up was intense yet people parted to let me through. Which come to think of it - was rather strange. I felt a sense of respect and awe from those shoppers, as I trudged along the aisles of random fruits and vegetables. And then, I noticed HER - leaning up against a bin of potatoes.

She'd come prepared, dressed - head to toe - in black vinyl and we acknowledged each other from a safe distance. I couldn't tell but I think she smiled as she asserted her website name ; "Domme De Louise". I promised her I'd check it out when I got back home.

Upon exiting with my supplies, there would be another quick jaunt to my lakeside refuge - and some quiet time. As I stepped out of my car and onto the shore to marvel at the view, others - who were there - frantically scurried back into their cars. And then... it dawned on me.

In these times (as in any) ; it's the clothes that make the man. Or is it the man who makes the clothes?

When I arrived home a zipper on my suit, was stuck ; took me an hour to get out of that freakin' thing. But besides that - everything is perfectly normal over here. Ya just gotta know how to dress.

*Note : Clic on the pics to enlarge them...
. ..
How Will You Celebrate... Cake and Cunnilingus Day... 🤔👅
Posted:Apr 14, 2020 4:19 pm
Last Updated:May 10, 2020 7:31 am
'Cake and Cunnilingus Day' ; is a REAL event. It was created as a response to ; Steak & BJ Day, which itself was created as a response to Valentine’s Day.

Today, women are to be treated not only to the cake of their choice - but also to the special oral attention of their lover. This day should be one of the sweetest days for women, out of the entire year. Cunnilingus Day - simple, straightforward and flying the flag for females worldwide.

Let's face it - cake is damn delicious. And petting pussies is fun but eating one (I'm told), feels incredible for her. Does it? And for men... what's more fun than watching her squirm and squiggle as her thighs clamp your head and she begins to shudder and moan. Eighty percent of women can reach an orgasm through clitoral stimulation. Plunge a finger in her pinkness and challenge yourself to caress her 'G-spot'. THEN, watch her melt into a sublime quivering mush.

Can you participate in today's climate?

Even if you can't connect with your partner today - after the 'veil of distancing' is all over - you can STILL give her this gift. I mean... I've gotten presents late and long after 'special' days have passed. I'm sure she'll appreciate it!

Are you a fan of giving or receiving that intimate lick?

*This info was culled from the web.
I Called Her... By Your Name... 🌹
Posted:Apr 10, 2020 7:59 pm
Last Updated:Dec 25, 2020 5:04 am
I phoned my sister-in-law today ; just to see how things were going. And while we were talking, I called her, by YOUR name - twice.

My brother's wife is a fun woman to talk with. She's intelligent and quick. I'd asked her about a recipe... and trivia... and I shared my tiny rant about shopping. Her replies flowed back, then finally concluded as she paused, and asked me a question

"Who's Debra?"

And it dawned on me ; I don't know. I've never met you. But, you're always on my mind. Are you just an illusion?

. ..
You Never Know... Who You Will Meet... Or Where 😯
Posted:Apr 7, 2020 10:18 am
Last Updated:Apr 18, 2020 4:30 pm
Once upon a time - before the veil of the 'great confinement' - it was Happy Hour...

I was in a dark, downtown bar with a friend from work ; commiserating and sharing a few laughs. Vodka slushies were on my menu, rye with a beer chaser - on his. We'd just been served when a man, wearing a rather shabby costume strode in. We watched (in curiosity), as he walked up to the bartender - sat down at one of the stools - then spoke to him.

"Do you have any jobs?"

The bartender - who'd been wiping the counter - turned, eyed the man in the suit and slowly replied, "Why don't you try, the circus."

"Why the fuck would a circus, need a bartender?" smirked the dog.

That dog, had a good point. He waited for a reply from the bartender ; who had already put his rag down and placed his hands on his hips. THEY, were suddenly interrupted. A priest, a rabbi and a minister had bustled into our darkened space and cozied up to the vacant stools - next to the dog. The bartender looked at the piously dressed men, then shook his head and spoke.

"What is this? Some kind of fucking joke?"

But before another word could be spoken - SHE stumbled in. She was beautiful and blonde and that woman had walked into our blackness, clutched the stool - right next to the minister - and plopped down. You can imagine how ALL of us - the bartender, that dog, the priest, the rabbi, the minister and my buddy and I - waited with baited breath ; to hear what that beautiful blonde lady, would say.

"I'll have a cold beer please," she announced as she straightened her skirt and fluffed her hair.

I had expected something funnier.

Later on - after we'd invited her to our table and talked - we discovered that she was dyslexic. Yet even though doctors had told her she'd NEVER be good at poetry, she proudly claimed to have made ; a vase, a pot and several bowls - and was quite satisfied with the results. Did she say poetry?

"Hmmm... Go figure," I thought to myself.

You just never know who you'll meet, unless you go out and meet them. That's, as profound as I'd get ; it was time for another slushie. Damn, they were going down easy that night.

As I raised my hand to place my order - once again - the door to that bar flung open and flashed a hazy white light ; from the outside world. You wouldn't believe me if I told you who walked in...

. ..
Shared Space... A Different Reality... 🌹
Posted:Apr 2, 2020 11:00 am
Last Updated:Dec 25, 2020 5:04 am
Once upon a time...

Many of us live in our own rendition of reality. We're oblivious anyone else's ; even though, we might share the same space with them. On that day - amongst the clutter and din - I noticed someone else's truth, as I sat there.

I was in one of my favorite burger restaurants : the place was packed with people. It usually was, on 'Two for Tuesdays', where - you guessed it - any meal on the menu was ; two, for the price of one.

Joining me were friends. We had spread a variety of bulging burgers, fries and crispy onion rings and ice cold soft drinks - across every available inch... of that tiny square table. We had enough food and calories stacked, feed a family of eight. We'd accomplished our goal - getting our money's worth - and so had everyone else in that brimming restaurant. Loud groups of men, women and - cheerfully enjoyed their gluttony. 

I was chomping through my food when I noticed a dark haired man (my age), walk gingerly towards the only empty table - the one in the far corner. He wore a long grey, rumpled overcoat, draped on a faded blue suit. On his shoulder was a large, worn-out knapsack and in his hands he held a tray - carrying a pair of hot dogs. He settled into his seat, carefully placed the bag beside him on the floor and pulled out a water bottle. Then he began to slowly, eat his meal.

As I chewed, I paused and thought to myself ; "Why would a hungry man, buy a hot HERE?" I mean, they weren't bad - they just weren't worth buying. Especially, when you could purchase ONE of their 'famous' hamburgers - and get TWO.

The answer was obvious and the only one that made sense. You'd only buy that in a bun - if you couldn't afford , to buy the burger.

I had eaten my quota, risen from my seat and carried my tray to where all the others were stacked. I then headed towards the washroom and past the man in the rumpled overcoat. As I reached him, I dug into my pocket and placed a folded ten dollar bill next to the edge of his tray. He paused from his meal, looked down at the money and then at , as I continued walk. 

Upon exiting the 'men's room' - above the ruckus of the crowd - I heard a voice rise in an ever increasing volume ; "Sir... Sir," I turned see who was hollering. It was the man in the rumpled overcoat. He looked at , mouthed the words ; "Thank you," and nodded his head in gratitude. I nodded back and noticed tears welling in his eyes. I made my way back my table. Food remnants were still piled high and my friends' laughter filled my ears. But my heart felt sad.

As I sat down, I glanced again at the man in the rumpled overcoat. He waved , flung his bag over his shoulder - then walked outside. I presumed, it's where he preferred be - or perhaps... not. One of my buddies snapped my gaze - with a question.

"I'm sorry... I wasn't paying attention," I replied.

And it's true. I guess I don't pay attention, often enough. How many of us do?

. ..
The Barista... With the Beautiful Smile... 🌹
Posted:Mar 31, 2020 1:08 pm
Last Updated:May 10, 2020 7:32 am
Once upon a time, not too long ago...

... a palette of churlish textures and primal splashes of colour, painted this planet - daily - with surly themes. Yet some brush strokes shone through ; like sparkles from a wizard's wand. If you paid attention, you might have witnessed one of those ephemeral illusions ; those with the power to soothe your soul. I got lucky one day, although - it didn't feel like that at first.

Rain fell in cold sheets as the wind scowled in gusting swirls, just beyond that huge pane of glass - facing the street. I watched cars splash by, while people clutched umbrellas and hats and buried hands in pockets as they shuffled along. I was grateful for my place in that faint line. I inhaled the rich aroma that lingered in the air, stamped my feet and kicked the water off my shoes.

There was a roaring fire burning in the corner. A group of students were huddled around tables, clicking fingertips on open laptops. On those tall, black leather stools - facing the window - were a row of men and women buried in their phones. The clatter of dishes and chatter of smiling voices chimed just loudly enough to muffle the music and cloak everyone inside - with a blanket of warm relief. We all couldn't help but notice the wet commotion, as it unfolded beyond that glass. The barista ; the one with the beautiful smile and the hazel eyes? Well, she looked at me and spoke...

"Next...!" It seemed like a simple command, so I complied.

I walked towards the bar and ordered, then watched ; as she performed her craft. She, had perfected her sultry stride and moved with the eloquence of a skilled dancer. I hadn't realized, there were so many steps to pouring a consummate cup of coffee. Eventually, a gust of her scent drifted into my head as she (leaned forward and slowly), painted a perfect rose into my mug. She was quite the artist and it was fascinating to watch, as those frothy petals bloomed. I was... mesmerised.

I carried my steaming brew to a table and sat down. Afraid to spoil that piece of art - I just kinda stared at it for a minute. The barista glanced at me while I took a sip. I responded with a thumbs up. Her smile beamed back at me and across the room. And I suddenly realized - THAT'S what it was. You cope, until you find a space to call your own and then, just enjoy it ; wherever IT is.

I was content as I relished my rose and the warmth from the fireplace. Then... I overheard two young men talking at the table next to me.

"You can never trust women. They ALL , have vaginas..." both men nodded.

And just like that - my bubble burst. One can never completely escape reality ; it'll drop in uninvited, wherever there's an open door. That rose in my cup had vanished and it was time move out, into the rain. I did.

The streets were empty as I went by that coffee shop today. It was closed and dark... yet I thought I heard laughter, from inside. It must have been my imagination.

. ..
Nothing Is Original Anymore... So Steal From Everywhere ...😊
Posted:Mar 20, 2020 11:52 am
Last Updated:Mar 30, 2020 1:46 am
We live in a society of lazy, unimaginative, 'pretend' content providers. They've seeped into all the tiny cracks of social media, movies, music, pictures and few - have anything original to say.

Does that mean it's all been said?

These free range plagiarists, copy and paste across all levels of society and happily ply their craft with impunity - and claim something as their own - while everyone around them, ignorantly applauds (the rebranded stuff they spew)... and pats them on the back. People are too ignorant, lazy and indifferent to really give a shit.

And heck... does THAT - thought, picture, song, poem or story - really... 'look' all THAT similar to the original? Most people don't even care, if an original exists ; they're too busy clapping, to notice. I've clapped once or twice. I guess I'm guilty as well.

Here's what someone else thought about this topic. It was nicely stated. I wanted to steal it but instead, I give him credit at the end.

"Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows.

Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent. And don’t bother concealing your thievery - celebrate it if you feel like it.

In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: “It’s not where you take things from - it’s where you take them to."

Jim Jarmusch...
[MovieMaker Magazine #53 - Winter, January 22, 2004]

'It's not where you take things from - it's where you take them to' ; Now THERE'S an original thought.
I borrowed this pic from the net.
. ..
A Sure Sign... The City You Live In Loves Sex.. 😊
Posted:Mar 16, 2020 12:23 pm
Last Updated:Apr 21, 2020 2:16 pm
I live in an eclectic, *supercilious city. It's millions of inhabitants have always been cavalier and somewhat self absorbed, about the realities beyond the shores of the prehistoric volcano island - on which it rests. That is... until last Wednesday.

That's, when the NHL cancelled the hockey season. It seems hockey, is the ONLY thing people here live for ; strange and sad. So... when I went to the supermarket and suddenly found bare shelves - a run on toilet paper and other doomsday necessities and condiments, had wiped them clean - I was mildly surprised. However... it was when I walked into a pharmacy - to look for bum paper - that my attention was captured, by the disappearance of another hot commodity.

ALL the condoms were sold out.

I imagine, while the world waits for sanity to return, WE , will wile our days and nights away - fucking - while watching perpetual replays of the '1993 Stanley Cup'; the last year we won. I stared at the empty condom racks and glanced at a pharmacy worker. She grinned and shrugged her shoulders.

I've never been a huge fan - of the 'cock sheath'. I always felt it killed the sensation. It numbed nerve endings and never felt as intimate as true - penis into vagina - skin on skin sliding, should have felt like. Sure, there are the practical reasons to use one ; protection against disease and unwanted pregnancy. However, the shear heat and slippery moistness a man should feel, when entering that hallowed cavern - is lost. And I've tried them all ; ultra thin, ultra-ultra thin, lambskin, super ultra thin. For fucks sake - it just ain't the same!

I often wonder what women actually feel, when a 'dick in a sleeve', enters them ; if the feeling is the same? I wonder if I'm the only man who hates condoms?

The pharmacy person told me toilet paper is on back order ; no firm date was given for its arrival. She suggested patience, rationing and diligence. Did she mean - shit, then shower?

The condoms? An emergency order is coming in on Monday. The next Stanley Cup this city wins? Some say that... will take forever.

It's Monday. Gotta run... and wait in line.

*supercilious ; behaving or looking as though one thinks one is superior to others.
There's a vocabulary spot quiz next week.

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The Bench... 🌹... ... ❗
Posted:Mar 12, 2020 9:06 am
Last Updated:Jun 3, 2020 12:10 pm
It's not at , what spring should have looked like. A blinding snow squall greeted him as he stepped off the city bus and onto the paved trail of that park. It was blustery and cold. He shielded his eyes, as he peered into the whiteness - seeking his bench.

Hordes of tiny ice crystals swirled and stung his face like crushed shards of glass. He drew his woollen tuque over tufts of gray hair and down over his ears. Hunkering his shoulders, he slowly trudged along that snowy path while quickly, filling his pockets with his freezing hands ; he'd forgotten his gloves on the kitchen table.

When he finally arrived, he was surprised to find someone - already sitting there - on HIS bench. It was a woman, perhaps his age ; she was bundled . He brushed away the snow, sat down and began blowing long... warm breaths into his cupped hands ; then, turned and nodded to her. She nodded back (acknowledging his plight) and gazed ahead. Neither of them spoke as they sat. Swirling snow, blew between and around them - to confirm their silence.

In the distance, they could hear the dull rumble of city traffic. An erie wail of police sirens echoed as wind whistled between leafless trees... and filled the chorus. They both watched, as a car sped it's way along that icy road in front of them. It passed a large, old maple tree then swerved its way around the bend and disappeared... down the hill.

Minutes passed. As if choreographed, they both stood up - at the same time. He turned towards her hesitantly, while stating the obvious ; "Miserable weather, isn't it?"

"It's our typical spring," she chimed, then pointed with a mitted hand ; "There's a café down that road. Would you like to join me, for a coffee? I could use one. Looks like you sure could," she smiled.

He wasn't sure, if she was smiling under her scarf, but he took a chance, smiled back and agreed; "You're right about that. I'd love one."

One year later (to the day), he walked out of that bus once again. The weather hadn't changed much from the previous spring ; it was still cold and the wind was blowing. There was ONE difference this time. He waited, reached for her hand - as she stepped off the bus - and held it tightly in his grasp. They both shuffled up that path together. Her hands were locked around his arm, as he held them there.

Before long, they'd found 'their' bench and sat down. She leaned her head against his shoulder as he pulled her close and shielded her from the blowing wind. Tears... had welled up in her eyes as she looked up into his. She exhaled - as if to clear her head - then sighed and choked back a sob. He tenderly kissed her lips as tears spilled down his cheeks.

One year ago, they'd accidentally met on that bench and fallen in love. Happiness, had been a rare companion in their lives, yet one year later - they'd managed to salvage a part of their broken hearts and sooth fissured dreams.

Fourteen years ago - on this day - she'd lost her young and he, his . They died on that road, right there ; just up by that large, old maple tree. Their cars... had collided.

Tears blinded them both, as they hugged each other. The wind had stopped. Only the sound of snowflakes, gently falling, filled the air around that park bench. They held each other as tightly as they could - afraid to let go.

. ..
Rooms... Have No Idea What's Going On In Them...🔥😶
Posted:Mar 9, 2020 9:03 am
Last Updated:Apr 11, 2020 11:56 pm
Darkness was our ally as we scuttled under tree branches, across a short cut... and up the steps to my house. We laughed, breathlessly... as we burst through the front door.

Clothes were thrown off... flung impatiently on the floor. As I turned, you lunged and wrapped your arms around my neck. Your command to kiss you ; was whispered in my ear. As you smiled you closed your eyes and pressed your silky body against mine. I greeted your lips and pushed you backwards - harshly - while lifting you up against the wall. Your legs twisted themselves around me like a wrestler with her prey. Tongues tangled ; we balanced and gasped for air. I felt your heart beating. I inhaled your breath. Your hands raked my shoulders as you arched your back, beckoning me... to touch your moist heat. I did...

We never made it past the living room... as I recall.

. ..

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