Time to walk the dog! I laced up my walking shoes, pulled a sweatshirt over my head and headed out. My dog, whom we call Mr. Potato Head due to the cornucopia of traits he inherited from beagles, fox hounds and, we think, kangaroos, led the way.
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Whether it's shouting the lyrics to "Baby Got Back" for the millionth time at a party or recalling the somberness of "Bitter Sweet Symphony" with fond...
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