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More than the photos, stories, and photo-inspired stories that I have from my weekendry and New Year’s Eve in my recent yet brief extra-American travels, I most notably returned toting this voice with which not even Kathleen Turner could compete. Excessive amounts of hard liquor, taken straight, normally turns my vocal chords into sandpaper, and that’s something of which I am well aware. But this time, the damage was excessive. Or perhaps it only seems that way to my ailing throat. And not at all hot.
But at least it doesn’t hurt.
