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That's right, me, motherfucker. On the very next race my bro and I were convinced that we'd hit the trifecta and the exacta. But the race came in 5-4-6, not 1-4-6--as our beer-hooded eyes perceived. We were hugging each other and jumping around the track like a couple of gay schoolgirls. When the results came up we felt quite foolish. The bro did hit a nice $38.50 exacta on the seventh race.
The curse of Demko is officially vanquished.
Posted by Paul Demko at August 5, 2005 10:45 AM
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