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When we first started dating, I admitted to my husband that I was a bad driver. He said “That’s nothing, I saw a crazy lady run an 18-wheeler off the road yesterday. Poor guy was struggling for his life trying to keep the rig from flipping over.” It was me. I was the crazy lady.
A friend of ours directed a horror movie that’s doing very well, but when he tried to get certain actors to be in it, they refused.
Now he’s sending them emails with the box office receipts and streaming numbers, with the message “Remember when you wouldn’t be in my movie?” 🎃