Wrong!
It's seven. I want to punch you in the face seven times.
I can't describe where my hate for Miley Virus stems from but it runs deep and burns bright with the blazing intensity of a thousand flaming suns. Where the smiling, adorable and lovable face of my sweetheart Paul Rudd can instantly brighten my day, turning rage to rays of sunshine and temper tantrums to tap dancing, Miley Virus has the exact opposite effect on me. I can't explain it, I'm sure it's not rational but that doesn't make it any less so.
I must now go get a grande, half-sweet, non-fat, no-foam, extra-hot hazlenut latte to make it better. I only hope I don't kick a puppy on the way to Starbucks. I make no promises.
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