Look, this is my litmus test: I pretend I am the original Earl of Sandwich. I have asked for non-bread foods to be brought to me inside bread, that I might more easily consume them one-handed while gambling.
This does not enable my wretched regency habits. This is not what I asked for. I do not deign to grace it with the name of my house.
hey gibbon - okay, I’m gonna ask you to do this, but please don’t get violently euphoric this time - I can’t reach this box. could you… [ sigh] extend your arms to get it for me?
[bones creaking painfully, gibbon screeching in pleasure and pain] YYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAABBBBBYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY
I’m on medication that can make me spacey af, which can be a problem when I’m driving–like yesterday, for example, when my best friend was trying to help me avoid a pothole
he said “to the left,” and I just mumbled “take it back now y'all” and hit the pothole straight on