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When I was living in Madrid my boyfriend was this guy Alberto from Galicia. He had hoop earrings, wore real bad jeans and Sambas like every day, and had these tiny little bumps on his upper lip that always seemed a little suspect. But the worst thing wasn’t any of that, or that he was maybe a little racist, it was that no matter what he ate his pee-pee tasted like wet, fatty pork.

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