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In bottle: Jasmine. Bleeeeech!

On me (wet): ...Yes, I'm going to try it on. Mostly because otherwise this post would be one line long. See the sacrifices I make for you? See? See?!

Jasmine. Why, God, why? It smelled ok for a moment, and then the fair damsel didst choke and breathe no more, her body still in the effervescent glow of her laptop.

On me (dry): Dead women can't smell, dammit.

Verdict: It murdered me in cold blood. All future entries will henceforth be made by my maddened ghost. Gentles, heed this tawdry tale of slaughter by jasmine, so that my sacrifice need not be in vain.

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mllelaurel

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