Well, I was Russian because I was Hungary for some Turkey and so Iran and slipped on Greece, and it was only then that I realized how Chile it had become. Sorry.
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Don’t be sorry to me-—that’s my level of humor (or possibly higher than my level.)
As:
When heading to the restroom you’re Russian, while there European, and finally Finnish.
Did we go to the same elementary school?
Apologies to FReepers with good taste.
Did you say taste? Well, I did want some Swiss with that Turkey and some Danish before I actually drove to the Finnish but I ran into Chad (who retrained some French but was Mad-[at]a-gas-car) and broke the China, and had no money so I had to Sing-a-pore song, and then faced a threat to Su dan.
Whew (waiting for a call back from Sno Joe).