My dear husband and I were in New Orleans a few days back, walking back to our hotel after a lovely dinner. We were near the arena where the Pelicans play, and the game had just ended so the streets were full of fans. We passed by a young man in his early 20s having a telephone conversation. As we walked by, we heard him say:
"Yeah, I don't know what was up with him. At halftime he just goes, 'My butthole hurts. I'm going home.' And he just left."
This is how I will announce my departure from everything from now on.
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