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When I was a young boy my grandmother would make me fried spam sandwiches. white bread,mayo,American cheese. On occasion I find myself at the market in that isle (you know the one). I'll look left,then right,if the coast is clear I snag a can and skulk off to checkout. It's not so much a craving. It's the memories. and it's kinda tasty. There I broke the spam ice.
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