This is the sad tale of my experience playing Pokemon Go.
It all started one morning as I told Sammy about the game. Somehow, he hadn't heard of it, despite the fact that he stays up to date on these things, and the fact that he loves Pokemon. He immediately downloaded the app, and attempted to catch a Charmander in our living room. After a few failed attempts, I asked if I could try. He let me, and I caught Charmander. I watched his cute little face as he was sucked into the Pokeball. I was then hooked.
I ran around the apartment while Sammy caught another Pokemon. I danced in the background, laughing that the Pokemon was on me. I went to work that day and saw that one of my coworkers was playing as well.
I didn't download the app myself for a few days. When I did, I went around happily catching Pokemon at my parents house. I played the next day (Sunday) as well, but quickly started getting bored. There were no cool Pokemon in my house or where I went. Sammy caught a cool flaming horse though, and I wanted that.
The next day, I eagerly went to work where my coworker told me a lot of Pokemon were. When I got there though, I saw that the app had erased all the Pokemon I'd caught, and logged me out. My dad had also pointed out the security risk of playing Pokemon, showing the inside of your home with the exact GPS location. All of this combined with my un-competitive nature led to me deleting the app. I'll never catch that flaming pony. Oh darn.
The End.
Here's a picture from the time I tried to make an omelette in a mug. It was alright, but I got tired of eating eggs and went back to oatmeal with dinosaurs. And then cereal because cereal is cheaper-ish.
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