Nursing a pretty wicked hangover means no mint julep for the greatest two minutes in racing. Yesterday blew. Except for the Cubs beating the Cards. But I got an e-mail from Antoinette reminding me that I agreed to participate in (possibly even create) a choreographed dance sequence at Tom's next Saturday. Not going to happen. I've got to stop myself from speaking when I drink from now on.
1 comment:
I wasn't there when you promised to dance, but I still want to hold you to the dancing....
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