Wretched, just, ugh! Horrible.

There I am, minding my dishwashing, listening to euro-something, when a truly painful pun occurs to me:

Cub reporter is covering this year’s Burning Man, has wrangled a spot with one of the bearded hippies down in IS to share a bunk. Of course come midnight, he’s front-center with a revivalist noise-band on the left and a UCSD college frat on the right, while somewhere behind him someone is shaking the ground with Dubstep set to the thump of a sonic hammer. So of course he pads out to see his coworker dressed in camo netting and glo-stick goo, and asks him, “How the fuck do you sleep through all this noise?!”

The beard looks down at him with a smug grin and replys, “Hey man, don’t hate the Playa, hate the Gain.”

See? See what I mean? Just horrendous. Now I have to go wash my mouth out with cheap vodka.

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