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#2 |
Dear Lord, Thank You.
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I sure do, Greg. They had a couple other flavors, too. We used to gather pop bottles and ride them to the grocery store at the mall to cash them in so we could buy snuff. Snuff was 42 cents a can, and an 8 pack only brought 40 cents, so we'd go back through and steal them and turn them in again. How we never got caught is beyond me.
Then we'd go across the way to the driving range, fill grocery sacks with golf balls we'd gather, and take them to Sky Lodge hill and roll them all down the hill at once. Didn't get to go to reform school for that stunt, either.
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#3 | ||
Resident Maduro Whore!!
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#4 | |
Don't knock the Ash...
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#5 |
Resident Maduro Whore!!
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My mother says the same thing.
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#6 | |
Dear Lord, Thank You.
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![]() I don't forget hauling a milk carton around for a spitter. Most of the teachers were cool with snuff and let us chew in class so we wouldn't spit on the carpet and rub it in. Some would make us swallow it when they caught us, and a few would send us on a three day vacation. I always hated suspension cause the old man would say "if you can't stand to get smart, you better get used to work" and would make me dig a stump out of the yard, or some other such sh!t. If I got done early, I'd have to dig my freshly backfilled and graded hole out and fill it back in. I learned how to pace myself at a real early age, at least where the old man was concerned. I'm still not very good at it otherwise. ![]()
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