None will hit the floor and I promised Jen not to feed any to the dog.
Actually, seriously...actually...what was I saying?
Oh, yeah. At 40 years of age I've finally discovered my limit. That line that separates a jammin' good time from doing something that results in a horrible fit of self loathing the next day. Jen showed me that line, whether she knows it or not.
I can't keep typing with a strait face!