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Upon entering college, my time spent gaming had dwindled. I had fallen into the adventures that college brought with it, such as beer pong, sleep, and chasing tail. But alas, it was due to a reckless night of said activities that my love for gaming was rekindled, and my disgust towards humanity set into motion.
I had planned an awesome night of heavy boozing and attempts at the ol' in-out in-out when I invited a few friends and a prospective bang buddy to my apartment. About here is where I shall choose to omit the events of that vomit-inducing night for reasons I shall carry with myself to the grave. Or maybe because I blacked out. Who cares.
Anyways, I woke to the female making out with me. Cool, right? Hell no. She had vomited the night away, and the bile lined her hair and coated her face.
FML.
I didn't know what to do. My thoughts were plagued by visions of vomit-crusted lips adulterating my confused mouth. I had nowhere to run; nothing to turn to. Alcohol was the catalyst for this, and I was too cheap to even think about purchasing wacky tobacco. With no path to choose other than signing over my body for nuclear testing, I decided it was time to return to my safety blanket with its Spider-Man style letters and sleek black body that would never betray me with puke in my mouth. Enter Playstation 3.
The bitch caught me when I was in rebound… but god… she was a lover like no other. THEN, the kinky little devil thought it'd be cute to bring in a third party, one Hideo Kojima.
I didn't want to eat. I didn't want to sleep. I didn't want to go to class. I just wanted to upgrade my African American avatar and tea bag a sea of nubs in Grozny Grad.
I'm a little better now. I haven't turned gay or asexual, and I've actually managed to find a balance between gaming and females. I could have fallen into alcoholism and prostitution, but you wouldn't have that. You cared. You showed me there is a light at the end of that vomit covered tunnel of pain and regret.
Thank you Sony.