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Seventeen years? By that time your face will have contorted permanently into a popeye smirk as you valiantly attempt to retain a sense of humor amid:

* The stress of avoiding the discussion about the guy who called her five times last night.

* The nagging thought that nobody told you the college tuition funds would be inadequate.

* Teaching your daughter to drive a car in New York City.

Enjoy your day off.


Welcome Clarabelle!

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