How the hell am I supposed to ghost write a book when all these little turds keep knocking on the door???
I'm outta here. I'm going to put on that dress that Hillary left when she and Blill spent the night.. wait, actually I think it was just Blill. Yeah, that's right, him and those two hookers. Anyway, there has to be someplace that a respectable journalist can go to avoid these little hooligans.
I'm going to a bar.
And Get Stewed!!!
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