Old age. First you lose the hair on your head, then your arms, then your pubes. Shortly following the all-over baldness comes death. That's it.
Evans is on stage 8 of 10 in his life. That gives him about 45 seconds or so to live by my calculations.
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Old age. First you lose the hair on your head, then your arms, then your pubes. Shortly following the all-over baldness comes death. That's it.
Evans is on stage 8 of 10 in his life. That gives him about 45 seconds or so to live by my calculations.
That's why I work for a bank. They aren't going to employ people with extensive numeracy skills are they? How would they make a profit?
There's something inherently cool about driving around in the car listening to the Rez soundtrack.
Vibrating the mirrors.
Yeah.
To be fair, bankers have been fucking with my money for literally longer than I can remember, what with me being stricken with...with...what? Anyway, the point is, cover up if you're going to get down. You wouldn't want any little ones screwing up your carefree life, right? Right? Nickels.
Oh wait, the point is that either you bankers are screwing up my account on purpose, or you can't count. One or the other.
Oh and Dave, please do stop uploading those pictures to Photobucket, alright? I'm tired of constantly deleting pictures of you mooning the Queen. Also, you might want to have that mole checked.