One day, a couple of weeks ago, I was writing in my notebook the lament "Warm beer and cold women, that's the story of my life."
A rather good looking chick sitting next to me noticed what I had written, and replied, "That's really sad. I'll help you out. Come with me after class." Naturally I did, and we went to her room.
It was one of the coldest bottles of Rolling Rock I ever had.
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