I bet Audrey had bad days too 2

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Gunnar and Sarah's Hell

9:14 PM

In writing this, I can understand why Dante dedicated an entire book to the origins and depictions of Hell. Gunnar and I think we're hilarious. Such a good way to explore our creativity. Simply put: This would be Gunnar and Sarah’s personal Hell.

Who’s your roommate? Good question. You know the person who with every story you tell has a better, cooler, or worse story? That’s your roommate.

This roommate always forgets their wallet.
This roommate calls you out in front of all the other cute Hell residents.
And if you ever start getting interested in another Hell resident, your roommate catches wind of it and starts to date them instead.
This roommate laughs with food in his/her mouth.
This roommate is not the worst person in the world, but annoying enough that you want to step on a Lego, just to start thinking about something else.

Also, Hell has a tendency to rain Legos.

In Hell, you wake up feeling like you downed half a bottle of Nyquil three hours ago. And you feel like that pretty much all day.

First thing in the morning, you have to fill out job applications.

You get to fill out your past job experience and reference information, all written by hand. Over. And over. And over again. When you died, you thought that you wouldn’t have to worry about that address of your first job — that address which for whatever reason, you had to write down on every single job application on earth. That useless, useless address, that you know for a fact doesn’t matter to anyone, maybe even especially your future employer.

After paperwork, it’s recess. You get to choose between getting in and out of cars wearing a pregnant suit, scraping ice off monster truck windshields with cassette tapes, or hanging out at the DMV.

And now, a doctor’s appointment. That means more paperwork, but you’re just filling out your insurance information and medical history. Not a big deal, right? It’s just, you won’t have your insurance card, and you’ll have a crappy pixelated photo of it instead that you get to work with. (This is actually my reality, in case you’re wondering.)

This will be for a doctor’s appointment that will be five minutes with a nurse who isn’t cute and two minutes with a doctor with weird, questionable hands who gives you a “prescription” for saline solution and recommends you drink “lots of fluids.” In the words of George Costanza, “Touch this, feel that, $75.”

Great news! There are treats in Hell. Options: candy corns and 3 Musketeers. For good behavior, you might be rewarded a Crunch bar, cherry Starburst or banana Laffy Taffy, but only if you’re willing to watch a person rummage through a clear bag full of all your favorite candy to retrieve it.

Next, you have the options of apartment hunting, getting your oil changed, shopping for windshield wipers, calling people from high school you haven’t talked to in 25 years to “see how they’re doing,” trying on jeans, and/or returning items you bought online.

For nighttime entertainment, you’re probably thinking, “Oh, infomercials.” You wish. In Hell you get to listen to a summer salesmen pitch to you not only security, but all the reasons you too should join their sales team. And also, they give you a slideshow of their last cruise all as they shout stuuuuupid inside-joke banter to a fellow salesman in the back.

There is YouTube in Hell, but all the videos are of Peking Opera and local business commercials. 
And of course, you do have free-reign on all the radio commercials of your choice.

And finally, any time you get to meet up with old friends, they have to call you first. They’ll usually take you out to lunch, and they might even compliment your shirt you got at Kmart. You get excited to play with your friend. You are served a diet, caffeine-free Coke and lukewarm water (because, Hell) only to find out that your friend just wants you to join in on their multi-level marketing business. Sweet.

So, maybe it’s time to do some good deeds. Because I’ll be damned if I have to listen to one more second of Peking Opera.

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