Here's what she did to me for Cinqo de Mayo:
You know, the least Sarah could have done was choose a picture where my eyes were open. But nooooo, she had to choose one that made me look drunk, even though (a) Sarah never gives me any booze - she hoards it for herself, and (b) I look even more like a tool this way than if she had just put a sombrero on me and called it a day.
And also, for the record, who puts a sombrero on a dog? I'll tell you who: Sarah. Hate. Hate. Hate.
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