I ate some food court Chinese and now, by every observable metric, the food court Chinese is eating me. I was able to play a couple rounds of Blood on the Clocktower last night before I began to get a wobbly feeling I described as "nautical" and I have spent the last ten hours or so in a state similar to a furniture warehouse whose boss is out of town, i.e., "Everything Must Go."
Penny Arcade
Man-Made Horrors, Part One
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