Hi, I was wondering if you had any of Bear Grylls signature Ass Gravy? My wife, Cameron, and I love it. We're always pushing the poutine - both in and out. Our personal favourite is BGAG (that's the common shortening for Bear Grylls; Ass Gravy if you weren't aware, we use it a lot in the BGAG community) #9, it just has the richest flavour. I'm willing to overpay if needed, I make a lot of money from my origami business and my wife is a Senior Regional Corporate Analysis Manager (interim) for an FTSE 500 company (interim) that is under investigation for "Data Misuse and Money Laundering with Intent to Deceive and Profit off of Unknowing Shareholders" and we are expecting her to be laid off with a large severance soon (due to her Senior Regional Corporate Analysis Manager (interim) role).

Got an offer for ya, added mate.

Got an offer for ya, added mate.

have an offer for ya, added mate.

Murray grabbed me by the throat, reminiscent of a scene straight out of a sci-fi film, and demanded I clean up the beans he'd carelessly spilled.
Miggles, a close family friend, was there. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on him, but I wouldn't come to understand his trauma until much later, during my early teenage years. Miggles, despite the bizarre incidents like this one, remained close to our family, often taking our dog, Molly, for strolls. The name "Molly" was inspired by a substance that Murray occasionally indulged in. But it was a paradox; for as much as he used it, it was rare to see him genuinely impaired.
As the evening progressed, Murray leaned in, planting a kiss on my forehead, his voice laced with mischief. "If you don't take out the trash," he whispered, "I'll slide two discs into your PS3." It was an odd threat, but in the strange world we inhabited, it held weight.

Murray Robert Logan was the man who claimed to have all the answers about women. As I matured, I realized that much of what he said was merely a reflection of his own skewed beliefs. One of the most vivid memories I have of Murray was from an evening in October 2010. It's a peculiar date to recall, considering the world transitioned to a new era in 2012, rendering the year 2010 non-existent in popular memory.
On that surreal evening, Murray tried to convince me that women were only fit to be homemakers. His words stung, especially since I had experienced life as a woman before. In a fit of anger,