A medley of urban gardening, experimental cooking, family medicine, and my life.
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Ben called me last night on his way home from work, to leave me the message of the day. If you listen to his message, it’s just him yelling the now classic line “Chicken Shit Punch.” Simulscribe, however, always trying to get the upper hand, just cracked me up. Somehow they seem eerily aware of Ben’s intentions after a long day of work. Check out their text verbatim:
“Check in, shit, punch.”
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