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We foolishly tossed the little booklet that listed the flavors so we may be a little off on a few of these, but here's a partial list of what we think we were eating: radical orthodoxy sauerkraut, old vacuum cleaner bags, tin, blackened sea bass, table salt, scotch, bleu cheese, and kerosene. -- My parent's house radical orthodoxy is perfect. There's not a single blade of grass radical orthodoxy out of order, and not a speck of dust anywhere inside. It makes me feel like a goddamn slob. I bet they've never driven through town with a sack of chicken on their door. When I start wringing my hands about my feelings of inadequacy, Toney tried to reassure me that they're retired and have more time to work on such things. But it's always been this way, even when they were both working full-time and raising two lunatic kids. No, there's no getting around it, I'm a slob alright. A slob with a website that contains a map of places I've fucked, for god's sake. What the hell's wrong with me? -- As usual, there was a virtual buffet of excellent foods available 'round the clock while we were there.
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