Bugs in my bathroom, mushrooms in my ceiling, Eggos in my belly...

Don't play Tomb Raider drunk. You'll only get frustrated, and if there's a REAL Ms. Croft out there somewhere, you know she's pissed. Probably at YOU.

Yes. I is been drinking. I'm sorry. Again: Rachel is a bad co-worker, because she always tricks me into doing this. TRICKS, I tell you. But: we have established that she is only fun when she ends up hurting herself.

See, I had a better blog in mind, full of weird hypernarrative and metafictional discourse contained within Teen Titans Go! (I swear to god: Robin takes off his mask and becomes AKIRA. Fuckin' A.), and all other kindsa weird stuff, but instead I'm sitting here trying to get Lara Croft to jump onto a goddamned ledge.

Plus: you would not believe how hard it was to find that picture at the top. Type in Tomb Raider or Lara Croft into Google, and you end up with pictures like this. Or this. How does this woman actually breathe? This is to say nothing of the amount of slash fiction out there pertaining to our favourite female archeologist. You people are sick, so much so that I feel a wake-up call is necessary: She is a video game character. You will never be able to have sex with her. Unplug and go play in the sun, before you start growing mushrooms in the folds of your white greasy skin.

I have spoken.

Why is it that I never have food in the house at times like these? Jeez...