You’re still there. Doesn’t matter what you to say to anyone outside of that festering boil you call the Design Center. You should rename it the garage for the terminally delusional and install wheelchair ramps because how you even get dressed for work is a mystery. And before you talk about anyone’s IQ, you’re stuck there “genius”. Biggest loser, owner of junk, and the king of the dump. You sit there smug in your throne of trash.
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