Whenever I return home from a trip Chuck slips into his Midwestern accent and gets very preachy about how his priorities do not match up with mine. Why I gotta leave? Why I gotta stick him there alone with Coco? Makes no sense when I gotta house and a bed and a car and a very lovely—okay, sometimes moody—dog who brings me farts. Do I gotta dog in New York who brings me farts? THAT’S WHAT HE THOUGHT.
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