Damn, my eyeballs were having a pretty good morning…

I once had a dream about a “lobster hotdog.” A lobster tail in a buttered hotdog bun. I went to a sports bar that happened to serve lobster tail and had hot dog buns. The waitress willing let me order this culinary sin. On an occasion, I still wake up in a cold sweat with the faint memory of processed bread and shellfish…

Cheese.

My favorites on the Steam Deck so far are Marvel Cosmic Invasion (arcade style Beat 'em Up) and Deep Rock Galactic Survivor.

Hell yeah, brother, fight the system! Don’t let Big Geology tell you want to do! Eat those rocks!

Thanks for the age check, damnit.

But… they literally used that post to tell people they play both the violin and the viola…

No, you’re Hildegarde

For the flavor??

Fools, the lot of you. I leave my cheese on the rocky shores of Ol’ Merry Bertha near the concrete jetties of man. There, the sweet mother deep slices my cheese with her sharp, salty caress, leaving my belly full and satisfied.

Yeah, prove it! Send us a picture with the honey dipper sticking out your fart hole, or we ain’t buying it!

Ask him what that hole in his hand do

Good God, my apologies!

No, I put Wendy’s training video “Hot Drinks” on repeat, laydown some towels, and wake up grandpa. Seriously, how do you even barbeque?

Excuse me, FridaySteve, but I sit on them like a proper gentleman.

Who tf out here is putting bread around their hotdogs??

What a horrible day to be literate.