Ah, ah! It was a Powerbook 5300. That was from a time you whippersnappers may not remember, when Macs were actually architecturally a different thing altogether. The Macbook is just a PC in a fancy case, and any attempt to tell you otherwise is marketing blabber.
Okay, Brad, you just apologized to your supervisor for taking a moment to say hello to your girlfriend, whom you denied was your girlfriend. I’m acting on behalf of the Man Council, you’re hereby stripped of membership. Turn in your testicles. Oh come on, it’s not like you were using them for anything.
What happened to your dreams, Brad? They stagnated, because YOU REFUSE TO EVER LET ANY PERSONAL GROWTH, DEPTH OF CHARACTER, OR EVEN PLOT ADVANCEMENT HAPPEN. Oh, sure, Evans is the driving force, but you know what? You went along with it. You kowtowed to your own cruel god. You sat around while Toni was throwing herself at you and moped about how you didn’t feel “ready” for this, and whined about how Bogeyman Dirk would come back at any minute and steal it all away so why bother, and let Momma Jocasta lead you around by the Oedipus complex. Even now, all you can do is stand around at a job you hate when you’re MORE than qualified for something better and mope, because you don’t have the CAJONES to stand up and make any kind of decisions. THAT’S WHAT HAPPENED. (P.S. Your GIRLFRIEND is more of a man than you’ll EVER be.)
Okay, I’ve got beer and snacks. Go for the throat, Leslie! Let the blood flow!