The ambulance driver is kind. He tells you everything is going to be alright.
The doctor is kind. She tells you everything is going to be alright.
The nurses are kind. They tell you everything is going to be alright.
Your mom is kind. She tells you that she told you to never move to that part of town.
You're released and try your best to get on with life. You apply for new freelance work. You show strangers your wound and get them to kiss you. It seems like everything is sliding back into place. And then the bill arrives. It's worse than the stabbing. It's, like, three times your gross domestic earning. Selling assignments is never going to pay for this thing, it's time to start selling your ass or something. Wow. You're doomed.
Over the last few weeks an outnumbered but brave group of men calmly used facts and logic to conclusively prove that women are ruining video games with their lustful object bodies. But there are other threats to everything gamers hold dear.
Sleeping with AC is at this point a basic human right. But if you're one of the doomed souls forced to deal with global warming on a nightly basis, here's an hourly breakdown on how to get the most out of your inferno hellscape of a bedroom.
We're spelunking through the movie catacombs this week. Join us, won't you?
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