So Jenny and I descended into a raging, primal fight, because of our differing preferences in beer-brands. We called off the wedding and shouted abuses at each other. “You are a harpy,” I screamed: “all those calories from the so-called light lager that you love to drink are beginning to show where they are stored around your midsection.” And she yelled back: “Well you use too much styling gel, which causes your hair to look like a hat.” — Both of us ended up in tears.
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