Quote:
Originally Posted by stumppy
Lucky bastard. When I was growing up my mom was a horrible cook. Hell, when she cooked a roast you needed dental records to identify it.
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I’m with you. My mother could **** up toast. Thankfully, karma or some shit is real because my wife could take 3 rocks and a pot and turn them into the best meal you ever had. How I’m not fat as shit is purely genetic. That I can thank my mother for, I guess.