Semi-related, but you’ve got the best username ever.

“Happy Birthday, Spray! I’m disappointed in you!”

Damn, beat me to it.

“I don’t think 22 minutes is so bad.”

“NOT SO BAD?!? THAT’S A WHOLE EPISODE OF SEINFELD! IT TAKES US A WHOLE EPISODE OF SEIN-FUCKIN-FELD TO ROB A BANK!”

The one “sad” towards the end really sells it.

This feels like a Dwight Schrute line.

Neigh? Nay.

Shortwave eroticism.

And that’s not even taking into account the miseries of:

1: Fighting with insurance to let you have what you desperately need at a price that wouldn’t bankrupt you.

2: Fighting with your pharmacy over prescription issues.

3: Dealing with sudden nationwide shortages.

Fuck…

I’m so goddamned sick of masking.

Gainax AF.

Take her to paladinner and a movie?

(Sorry.)

It can be a pretty miserable cycle.

1: Have a job that barely keeps you financially above water, while consuming all of your time, energy, motivation, creativity, and capacity for joy.

2: Lose it.

3: Spend every moment not enjoying your newfound free time due to…in no particular order…struggling with poverty; struggling with guilt, depression, and general self-loathing; jumping through hoops fighting an unemployment system designed to make you give up (especially if you live somewhere extra shitty) ; spending countless hours revising resumes and mass applying to jobs to no avail; being too poor to do anything and barely seeing your friends; trying to keep food in your kitchen…and so on.

I’m so tired.

Dude, yesterday I heard a radio ad promoting “vintage alternative” music and it was fucking “Mr. Brightside” by The Killers.

Vintage.

I wanted to throw my geriatric elder Millennial ass through my windshield.

Maybe they’re just from a sex-positive couple into CGSM.

Ahhhhhh…look at all the blonely bleople…

Ugh, don’t get me started on roommates.

Like, once, they got all paranoid about some supernatural nonsense and poured all this salt on the hallway floor, like in a big stupid circle. Right outside of my door.

Total pain in the ass. Like, I refuse to go out there until they clean that shit up. I physically won’t. I don’t care how long it takes or how hungry I get.

Though I can’t remember the last time I felt hunger…hmmm…

Honestly, it’s been so long I’m not sure I can even differentiate anymore.

Hank Hill voice:

“Just look at it, Bobby. It’s got-dang beautiful, I tell ya h’wat.”

This isn’t even my final formal.