I don't think you got that memo I sent you. I gave up a couple weeks ago. Yeah, I know, pretty early, right? Only 30 years old, still healthy and all. Just wasn't feeling it anymore. Too hard. I was tired all the time and, well, didn't think anyone would notice. And apparently you didn't because you're still trying to shove large, spiky things straight up my ass. There's no need, Life. You win. I lose.
Now can you please just turn the Spurs games back on before I put my fucking foot through a plate glass sliding door?