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I don't know if you could call it a disaster unless you where on the recieving end. My stepfather would tell us kids he would make breakfast for us; Eggs Minnesota Style, everything in the fridge was fair game. After our first encounter; the mere mention of our stepfathers culinary expertise would bring about the weeping, wailing, and knashing of teeth to us, the poor victims.
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I was told to get a life, but all the good ones were taken.
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