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Where are my handlers?

Sunday we skied at Vail. I was happy because it snowed the night before and I skied the first half a dozen or so runs as if I were a young man, with the soft, forgiving powder fueling my delusions of superior physical ability and virility.

Reality set in around 12:30, when I started whining and feeling sorry for myself. My skinny little legs were no longer responding to directions from my brain. I won't lie to you: I was cranky and tired.

When we returned to the bottom of the hill, I remembered it was lunch time. I bought a piece of lemon pound cake and a can of Dr. Pepper. That gave me a burst of energy for about 25 minutes, and I believe I was at my most charming and witty during that period. It wore off, though, and I quickly returned to being unpleasant and irascible.

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Bruce from LI on :

In other words, you returned to being a dick.

Ricky on :

Exactly. A big, tired dick.

F Banger on :

That's what I usually have after a night with Mrs F Banger.

Ricky on :

I'll set 'em up, you knock 'em down F. Banger. Nice work.

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