Cornelius: You know, Nova, when you dragged me to that CTRL Room of yours last week—that vibey, neon-lit jungle gym of curated personalities—it did something to me. Something unexpected.

Nova: Oh no. Did it activate your sciatica? Should I have warned you about the fog machine?

Cornelius: No. I mean, yes, the fog machine was… aggressive.

But it’s not that. It’s feeling invisible.

Being there reminded me of a feeling I haven’t had in a long time.

You know the one—when you lock eyes with someone across a room, and for just a second, you know they noticed you too.

That spark. That pulse. That quiet rush of maybe.

Nova: The “Did-they-or-didn’t-they” lightning bolt? Yeah, I chase that on weekends.

Cornelius: Of course you do. You’re young. You’re still in the middle of it. But me? I’m in my 60s.

And most days, Nova…most days I just feel invisible.

Nova: Wait—Corny Baby, you? Invisible? Come on. You’re like a walking bowtie encyclopedia with opinions on fountain pens. You’re not invisible.

Cornelius: Not to you. But to the world? To strangers? Yes.

Feeling invisible as you get older—it sneaks up on you.

It’s not that people are cruel. It’s that they stop looking.

You stop being seen that way. You feel invisible instead of being someone who might still matter in a romantic sense. In an exciting sense.

Nova: Wow. You’re actually being serious. I thought you were gearing up for one of your “in my day” monologues.

Cornelius: I am. But not the usual kind.

I just want to say this out loud for the other people out there who might be nodding along.

Feeling invisible as you get older isn’t about vanity. It’s about longing.

It’s about remembering what it was like to be noticed—to be flirted with. To be wanted.

Nova: Okay. Now I’m the one who has to pause.

Because you’re right. That moment—the look, the tension, the thrill—that’s magic.

I don’t feel invisible and I guess I take it for granted. Like it’s always going to be there.

Cornelius: You’ll blink and it won’t be. And I don’t say that to scare you. I say it because…I wish someone had said it to me.

I wish someone had told me that one day, the music would still be playing, but you wouldn’t feel invited to dance anymore.

That feeling invisible in life would become your new normal.

Nova: Corny Baby…that’s heavy. But maybe that’s just how the world’s wired.

We’re not taught how to see past a certain age. Or how to imagine romance past a certain point.

Cornelius: But why not? Romance doesn’t retire. And neither does desire.

We just stop talking about it.

We let it fade. And that’s when feeling invisible as you get older becomes more than a mood—it becomes a reality.

And the worst part is, it doesn’t always hurt.

Sometimes it just…empties you.

Nova: So what do we do about it?

Cornelius: We talk about it. We say the quiet part out loud.

We tell stories that bring people like me back into the light.

We watch movies and create our own characters who still flirt, who still ache, who still feel sparks.

Even if the fire’s slower to catch. Even if feeling invisible in life is something they’re learning to push against.

Nova: Okay, you’ve officially gotten me emotional. And now I kind of want to march back to the CTRL Room and demand they turn down the fog machine and turn up the eye contact.

Cornelius: Just make sure they leave room for people like me.

People who remember what it felt like to be noticed. And who—deep down—still want to be.

Nova: You know what, Cornelius? You’re not invisible. Not even close.

You just reminded a whole bunch of people that their heart still works. Including me.

Charlie: Hey there! It’s Charlie—your culinary co-pilot for affordable fun and emotional restraint.

And beside me, as always, is Sally. She’s the queen of craft booths, live music, and misunderstandings involving spicy chicken dinners.

Sally: Okay. Once again, for the record: I made Max a perfectly innocent dinner. It wasn’t a date, it wasn’t candlelit, and it definitely wasn’t spicy.

But I get it.

Feelings were felt. So to clear the air and keep things light, Charlie and I are heading out next weekend for some good old-fashioned family fun. And no kitchen drama.

Charlie: That’s right—we’re talking about the Spring Jamboree, happening May 3rd and 4th in beautiful Boulder City.

If you’re looking for family fun that doesn’t drain your wallet, this is your golden ticket.

Sally: Admission? Free. Parking? Free. Entertainment? Free.

The chance to eat a deep-fried Twinkie while watching a dachshund in a superhero costume strut across a pet parade stage?

Priceless family fun!

Charlie: You’ll find local artisan booths, handmade goods, quirky collectibles, and more face-painted kids per square foot than a birthday party in a bounce house.

There’s also a classic car show, live music, and a rock, gem, and mineral expo—because nothing says romance like buying your co-host a slightly cracked geode.

Sally: That sounds suspiciously like a plan, Charlie.

And let’s not forget the food vendors—tacos, kettle corn, lemonade stands, and possibly the best corndogs west of the Mississippi.

For anyone looking to indulge in family fun with a side of mustard, this is the spot.

Charlie: It’s also a great reminder that not every good time has to come with a $200 price tag and a valet.

Family fun near Las Vegas can be laid-back, homespun, and wonderfully weird. And Boulder City nails it.

Sally: We’ll be covering it all for Informer.Digital, of course—documenting the flavors, the fashion choices, the unexpected emotional landmines, and everything else that comes with two coworkers spending a weekend together pretending they’re totally, 100% just friends.

Charlie: To avoid any more Max-related confusion, I made it clear up front: “No spicy chicken dinners. No signals to misread. Just you, me, and a park full of kettle corn.”

And that’s the plan.

Family fun with a healthy side of boundaries.

Sally: Sure, Charlie.

Boundaries.

Until you try to win me a souvenir crystal shaped like a squirrel.

Charlie: Let me dream, Sally.

Sally: If you’re in the area, put the Spring Jamboree on your calendar.

It’s the definition of family fun and it’s the perfect way to shake off the stress without shaking out your pockets.

Charlie: Look for us in Bicentennial Park—we’ll be the ones bickering near the churro cart and pretending we’re not low-key having the best time ever.

And if you’ve got kids, or a soft spot for miniature horses in costumes, or just want a Saturday that feels like a slice of Americana? This event’s calling your name.

Sally: Catch us next weekend at the Spring Jamboree—celebrating budget-friendly, wholesome, weird, wonderful family fun.

And remember: just because it’s free, doesn’t mean it’s not magic.

Charlie: Especially if you’re there with someone who makes kettle corn taste like a second chance.

Sally: Charlie.

Charlie: Sorry. Boundaries. Got it.

Sally: Yes there are boundaries. Which begs the question why did you say there’s some Shakespeare happening this Friday at Bicentennial Park?

Charlie: That’s right—The Comedy of Errors, outdoor performance, under the stars. Free. A perfect warm-up for the Jamboree. You know, just to get a feel for the park. For work purposes.

Sally: Uh-huh. And is this suggestion your way of being spontaneous with me?

Because we just agreed—strictly friends, strictly funnel cakes.

Charlie: It’s Shakespeare, Sally. Mistaken identities. Twins. Hijinks. If that’s not a metaphor for our working relationship, I don’t know what is.

Sally: Fine. But if you try to hold my hand during the second act, I’m calling Max.

Charlie: I’d never. Unless there’s swordplay. Then all bets are off.

Disclaimer: The following program is brought to you by Wacky Benny’s Late Lunch Conspiracy Hour, which is now only 12 minutes long due to office budget cuts aka “resource harmony.” Viewer discretion is advised. Mostly for confusion.

BENNY (staring straight into the camera, lit unevenly from the left):

What if I told you a single donut…a missing green screen…and one very sweaty ring light…are the keys to exposing a corporate conspiracy?

Welcome to The Donut, the Ring Light, and the Truth. I’m Wacky Benny, and today, we confront something even more dangerous than expired creamer in the breakroom fridge: office budget cuts disguised as a “Q2 Strategic Resource Reallocation & Cost Harmony Plan.”

(He holds up the memo, now crinkled and partially highlighted with what appears to be lipstick.)

This memo—this majestic, cost-efficient scroll of doom—was delivered to every show host at Informer.Digital.

You may have heard whispers.

Maybe a few jokes.

But nobody’s really talking about it.

Until now.

(He begins to read dramatically.)

“One ring light remains. Please limit usage to 15 minutes per appearance.”

Translation: If you don’t glow fast, you don’t glow at all.

“Green screen currently missing.”

What kind of media empire loses its own background? This isn’t a dorm room. This is journalism.

“Cupcakes replaced with one community donut.”

Oh yes, my friends. We have entered the era of donut austerity. Office budget cuts means No Birthday Cakes! Just one donut with many birthdays. Slice accordingly. And no, there is no cake alternative. There is only glaze and sadness.

“Makeup drawer locked due to contouring disputes.”

Max and Polly—this is on you. But let’s move on before I get emotional.

And here’s the kicker: office chairs now come in two models—’full support’ and “foldable character-building.” I am currently seated on a chair that can only be described as “existential.”

Now, I asked myself…why would Informer.Digital, a global powerhouse in niche satire and zodiac-fueled movie criticism, suddenly fall into a pit of tape-reinforced microphones and donut diplomacy?

Simple.

Someone’s trying to devalue the company.

This isn’t just office budget cuts. This is a buyout setup.

Step 1: Slash expenses.

Step 2: Undermine morale.

Step 3: Look weak on paper.

Step 4: BAM! Mystery investor swoops in to “rescue” us by purchasing the company for the cost of that one donut.

You think I’m exaggerating? That’s what they said when I exposed the Lizard People from the Fake Moon Landing behind Casual Flat Earth Friday.

But this?

This is different.

These office budget cuts are strategic. Calculated. Sinister in their subtlety. They’re not just trimming fat—they’re shaving the whole burrito.

Think about it—who benefits when we all sound like we’re whispering through a paper towel tube?

Who’s hoarding the good mic in their desk drawer, Nestor?

Who profits from eyeliner shortages and birthday despair?

I’m not saying it’s Randy.

I’m not saying it’s Aurora.

But I’m not not saying that, either.

Could it be Jack, with his karaoke-induced spiral into chaos?

Could it be Polly, who mysteriously stopped contouring right before the drawer was locked?

What about Sandy, who calmly sips cocoa like a Bond villain in a cozy sweater?

Or Max—always first to the green screen, last to admit guilt?

And let’s not forget the intern, Orion. Nobody’s seen him. Nobody’s heard him. But somehow, he has keycard access and suspiciously perfect hair.

All I’m saying is this: These office budget cuts don’t feel like just another “cost harmony” phase. They feel like the opening act of a hostile takeover.

When you find yourself holding half a donut and standing on a wobble stool under a dying ring light—look around.

The enemy might be closer than you think.

Especially if they’re quietly benefiting from these office budget cuts while the rest of us suffer.

Because this network?

This empire of satire?

It didn’t fall because of content.

It fell because someone cut the mic, dimmed the light, and sliced the donut.

This has been Wacky Benny. Stay suspicious. Stay seated. And if your chair breaks… document everything.

Disclaimer: The preceding segment is a work of satire. No donuts were harmed in the making of this investigation. All accusations are entirely fictional, unless proven true at a later date—at which point Wacky Benny reserves the right to say “I told you so” while sitting on a broken folding chair.

The following is a work of satire. Any fashion critiques, budget chicken betrayals, or generational fashion crises are purely fictional and intended for comedic purposes—though suspiciously similar events may have happened in your office.

Nova (bursting in, holding up her phone):

Corny Baby! You are not ready for this. Kesha just brought back the Trash Bag Dress—and upgraded it!

We’re talking sequins, combat boots, and enough eyeliner to write a breakup album. Trashcore is officially thriving.

Cornelius (eyebrows climbing):

First of all… who—or what—is a Kesha?

Nova (gasps):

Oh my god. Corny Baby. She’s an icon. Glitter goddess. Patron saint of partying and post-apocalyptic glam.

Basically if chaos wore lipstick and had a Top 40 hit.

It’s like she stepped out of a glitter-stained apocalypse and said, “I own this landfill.”

Cornelius (lowering his newspaper slowly):

Excuse me? Did you just say “landfill” in the same sentence as “couture”?

Nova:

Yes. Trashcore, Corny Baby. It’s the hottest fashion vibe right now—distressed denim, chaotic layers, safety pins, boots that look like they’ve survived three music festivals and a flood.

It’s a whole statement: “I may be a mess, but I’m a hot mess with intentions.”

Cornelius:

When I was your age, we threw away clothes that looked like that. Or at least washed them.

Intentionally looking like you lost a fight with a recycling bin? That’s a trend now?

Nova (grinning):

It’s not just a trend, it’s a rebellion. Against perfection. Against billionaires pretending to be subtle. Trashcore is “I see your quiet luxury and raise you a loud disaster.”

Cornelius (grimacing):

And this… “Trashcore” is something people aspire to?

Nova:

Aspire to? Corny Baby, people plan their whole vibe around it.

Addison Rae showed up to brunch looking like she got in a fight with her laundry basket—and won.

Timothée Chalamet wore a deconstructed jumpsuit that said, “Yes, I slept in this—and I’m still hotter than your entire contact list.”

Cornelius:

The only way you’d ever catch me dressed like that is if I lost a bet. A big one. Like, “give up your record collection” big.

Nova:

That’s the spirit! Trashcore fashion isn’t about perfection, it’s about owning the mess. It’s distressed fashion meets disheveled aesthetic. Think: anti-fashion with charisma.

Cornelius:

So…now showing up to work looking like I fell into a drainage ditch is “expressive”?

Nova:

If by “drainage ditch” you mean avant-garde visionary, then yes.

Cornelius:

If I was a visionary I would have seen the drainage ditch before I fell into it.

Nova:

Kesha basically baptized the Trashcore movement. Her Trash Bag Dress is like the Mona Lisa of this whole aesthetic.

Cornelius:

Next you’ll tell me Max is dressing like that now too.

Nova:

He might, after last night. You didn’t hear? He told Sally he’d eaten this fancy lemon herbal spicy chicken at Johnny’s Place—you know, the restaurant, not some guy named Johnny.

Cornelius:

I’m aware. I’ve been emotionally overcharged and financially drained by Johnny’s Place before.

Nova:

Anyway, Sally said she could make that same dish better and on a budget. So Max took her up on it and went over to her apartment for a full dinner challenge.

Cornelius (spitting out his tea):

He went to Sally’s place for a “budget chicken challenge”?

Nova (nodding like it’s the Weather Channel):

Yup. Not a date. Technically. But Charlie’s been walking around like someone slow-cooked his dignity.

And Dana? Oof. Max told her, “You said we weren’t exclusive,” and “It was just dinner, not a date,” but she is not having it. She’s in full cold-silence, tight-smile, label-your-lunch energy.

Cornelius:

That’s worse than Trashcore. That’s interpersonal performance art with a side of betrayal casserole.

Nova (laughing):

Honestly, the only thing more dramatic than Max’s dinner plans is his wardrobe. If he walks in wearing a torn vintage tee and thrift-store corduroys tomorrow, I won’t even blink. That’s stage two of Trashcore acceptance.

Cornelius:

I wore mismatched socks to work one day—one day—and I got a passive-aggressive sticky note from Dana that said, “Feeling quirky?”

Like I’d committed a fashion crime against the entire HR department.

Nova:

Then you should embrace the era of Trashcore, where “fashion crime” is the whole aesthetic. You want to look like you’ve been emotionally wrecked by a playlist and physically tackled by a clearance rack.

Cornelius:

Trashcore sounds like a thrift store reject with some attitude and a side of duct tape.

Nova:

Exactly! That’s why it works. It’s raw, it’s messy, it’s expressive—and it’s cheaper than therapy. You just need a pair of ripped jeans, three clashing patterns, and a tragic backstory.

Cornelius:

My tragic backstory is that I work here.

Nova:

Then you’re halfway to the look already, Corny Baby. Give it time—one more Max-related scandal, and even Dana might show up in combat boots and a crop top that says “Emotionally Over It.”

Cornelius (deadpan):

If that day comes, I’ll be at Johnny’s Place ordering a double lemon herbal chicken with a side of retirement.

Nova (smirking):

You could totally pull off Trashcore, Corny Baby. You’ve got the sarcasm. You’ve got the tragic office energy. All you need now is to stop ironing your socks.

Remember: if your workplace drama includes Trashcore fashion, emotionally over-seasoned chicken, and someone named Max saying “it wasn’t a date,” you’re either living in satire—or working at Informer.Digital. Either way, we salute your survival skills.

Celebrating the end of another legendary WrestleMania weekend in Vegas, Adesanya mingled with fans while showing off his freshly minted ‘King of the Club’ custom Sapphire Las Vegas belt, while Melissa Santos and Brian Cage took over the Sapphire stage to award one of Sapphire’s lucky guests a belt of their own.

The following is a work of satire. The office drama is fictional (mostly), the karaoke curse is probably not real (we think), and the conspiracy theories about Tubi TV’s algorithm are absolutely fabricated (until proven otherwise). Please enjoy this exaggerated entertainment for what it is—comedic chaos with cartoon streaming recommendations.

Sandy (calmly sipping cocoa): You ever notice how the louder the gossip gets at Informer.Digital, the quieter Polly gets?

Polly (pacing): That’s because if I say one more thing about that karaoke night, Jack, or the fact that Aurora may have charted my birth star just to curse me, I will spontaneously combust. So yes, Sandy, let’s talk cartoons. Something—anything—streaming on Tubi TV, please.

Sandy: Excellent choice. Today’s emotional escape hatch—brought to us by Tubi TV—is a pop culture showdown between Scooby-Doo, Where Are You! and The Lego Movie.

Both are streaming for free. Both are animated masterpieces. And both, frankly, offer more stability than this week’s office drama.

Polly (eyes narrowing): You mean Jack’s newest plan to break the curse by singing Eye of the Tiger backwards with me? As if reversing the lyrics turns it into a healing chant. I signed up for pop culture—not paranormal boot camp.

Sandy (smirking): Velma would never.

Polly: And The Lego Movie would never. It’s bold, brilliant, and built brick-by-brick for modern minds.

Emmet’s journey is basically the hero’s arc with glitter and sarcasm. And it’s right there on Tubi TV waiting to save your day.

Sandy: But Scooby-Doo, Where Are You! is the blueprint.

Scooby, Shaggy, Daphne, Velma, and Fred?

They invented team-based chaos and crime-solving with flair. The gang is streaming on Tubi TV too—and I’d argue they’re the perfect antidote to work stress and ghost sightings.

Polly: If I wanted to see people wear the same clothes every day and make bad decisions, I’d just rewatch karaoke night.

Sandy (tilting her head): You walked right into that one.

Polly: I walked into Tubi TV, hoping for peace. And guess what I got instead?

A Jack karaoke clip—mid-ad break—air-punching like he was possessed by Rocky himself. “Risin’ up” right in my face while I was trying to explain LEGO Batman’s emotional depth.

Sandy (grinning): To be fair, he sounded like Shaggy trying to impersonate Superman.

And I nearly spilled my cocoa again when Wacky Benny yelled, “It’s a sign!”

Polly (laughing despite herself): It’s a conspiracy. I swear Tubi TV’s algorithm is secretly run by Jack. I was this close to a peaceful night of animated brilliance and healing, and then boom—karaoke flashbacks in 1080p.

Sandy: Well, at least you had options.

Scooby-Doo on Tubi TV gave me haunted amusement parks, suspicious caretakers, and Velma single-handedly solving mysteries with a magnifying glass. Therapy in 22 minutes.

Polly: The Lego Movie on Tubi TV gave me explosions, clever twists, and a message about self-worth wrapped in animated insanity.

It’s perfect. And Emmet never dated a coworker and sang classic rock at a staff function.

Sandy: Touché. But I will say, between Jack’s air-guitar redemption arc and your LEGO-level meltdown, I haven’t been this entertained since Daphne escaped quicksand in heels. Wait a minute did you say dated?

Polly: Slip of the tongue it wasn’t a date it was one song!

And you won’t be that entertained unless Jack actually convinces me to sing Eye of the Tiger backwards.

In which case, I’m transferring departments.

Sandy: If that happens, we’re filming it and uploading it to Tubi TV Fan Theories under “Top 10 Cursed Karaoke Duets.”

Whether you’re Team Scooby-Doo or Team Lego Movie, you’ve got golden options right now on Tubi TV. Both titles are streaming for free, and both offer a break from the haunted funhouse that is office gossip.

So grab some Scooby Snacks, scream “Everything is Awesome” and turn on Tubi TV until the curse lifts.

This is satire. No employees were harmed in the making of this karaoke conspiracy. All pop culture references, office scandals, and algorithmic accusations are fictionalized for comedic effect. But yes—Scooby-Doo and The Lego Movie really are streaming for free on Tubi TV. And yes—everything is awesome when you dodge drama and stream cartoons instead.

This is a work of satire. All astrological commentary, office gossip, and cosmic karaoke predictions are meant for entertainment only—no horoscopes were harmed in the making of this segment.

Aurora (sighing dramatically): Before we get to the cosmic chaos raining down from the box office this week, I have to talk about something far more disturbing than a gravitational pull with attitude.

Jack is planning to sing ‘Eye of the Tiger’ in reverse with Polly.

Rex (dryly): I knew this week felt cursed. That explains it.

Aurora: He says it’s going to “reverse the curse”—and by curse, I mean the total collapse of his sports predictions since that karaoke incident.

Rex: He used to be wrong strategically. Now it’s like he’s trying to hit a bullseye while juggling flaming torches in a tornado..

Aurora: And Polly’s actually considering it!

Rex: Funny thing is people would probably watch that.

Aurora: Has anyone done a compatibility chart on those two? Because I swear that duet was written in the stars… and possibly hexed by them.

Rex (grinning): The more I think about it, we could be talking Pay-Per-View event here.

Aurora: Not funny Rex.

Rex (smiling): Just trying to make you relax.

Aurora: Then slip me a couple of those cosmic cocktails like you did the last time.

Rex: Speaking of cosmic, there are three movies releasing this Friday. And yes, we did your favorite thing and ran every last astrological chart.

Aurora: But before we get to the cinema skies, can I just say—Jack doesn’t know anything about astrology. Last week he asked if Mars in retrograde was when a planet hit reverse like in Mario Kart.

Then he asked if singing backwards could “trick the moon.” I had to go lie down.

Rex: I bet you lie down a lot.

Aurora: It’s called spiritual exhaustion, Rex. Try explaining lunar houses to someone who thinks Saturn is a professional wrestler.

Honestly, it’s a miracle this office isn’t under permanent astrological quarantine. And yes, that’s a thing—I just made it a thing.

Rex: Where’d I put that cosmic cocktail recipe?

Astrology Alert: April 18th is Aries Territory.

Three wildly different films, all under the bold, impulsive, and occasionally explosive sign of Aries. Buckle up, stargazers.

Sinners (Supernatural Thriller)

Director: Ryan Coogler – Gemini (May 23, 1986)

Main Cast & Signs:

Michael B. Jordan – Aquarius (Feb 9, 1987)

Hailee Steinfeld – Sagittarius (Dec 11, 1996)

Jack O’Connell – Leo (Aug 1, 1990)

Delroy Lindo – Scorpio (Nov 18, 1952)

Aurora: This is what I call a firecracker lineup. Fire and air signs everywhere. Gemini director, Aquarius lead, and a Leo antagonist?

Astrology says this movie isn’t just intense—it’s electrified.

Rex: So your cosmic prediction is… vampires with emotional damage?

Aurora: And you say that like it’s a bad thing.

Sneaks (Animated Sports Comedy)

Directors: Rob Edwards – Cancer (June 22, 1963), Chris Jenkins – Sagittarius (Dec 4, 1960)

Voice Cast & Signs:

Anthony Mackie – Libra (Sep 23, 1978)

Chloe Bailey – Cancer (July 1, 1998)

Laurence Fishburne – Leo (July 30, 1961)

Martin Lawrence – Aries (April 16, 1965)

Rex: So it’s a movie about, talking sneakers.

Aurora: Talking sneakers trying to rescue one of their own—and powered by astrology. That Aries-Cancer pairing? Pure emotional action.

Rex: I knew astrology would find a way to sneak in.

Aurora: I’ll give you an eight on the cute scale for that comment Rex. Astrology is the thread holding this cinematic universe—and this office—together.

The Wedding Banquet (Romantic Comedy)

Director: Andrew Ahn – Pisces (Mar 17, 1986)

Main Cast & Signs:

Han Gi-chan – Virgo (Sep 6, 1998)

Bowen Yang – Scorpio (Nov 6, 1990)

Kelly Marie Tran – Capricorn (Jan 17, 1989)

Lily Gladstone – Leo (Aug 2, 1986)

Aurora: Look at all that grounded earth energy! Virgo, Capricorn, Scorpio—it’s deep, heartfelt, and astrologically aligned for romantic tension.

Rex: Sounds like a great double feature with a breakup and a pint of ice cream.

Aurora: Or a full moon and a full heart. This is your astrology-approved comfort film of the month.

Rex: You might want to go for the ice cream and the movie.

Aurora: So what did we learn? Astrology is real, office karaoke should be regulated, and Martin Lawrence is cosmically timed for comeback energy.

Rex: And maybe Jack should just stop singing, forward or backward.

Aurora: Stars willing, Rex. Stars willing.

And if that fails, I’ve got three candles, a crystal, and a backup astrology app ready to go.

Reminder: Everything you just read is pure satire. The astrology is exaggerated, the workplace drama is fictional (mostly), and Jack singing backwards will not, in fact, shift planetary alignment—no matter what he says.

The following sports commentary contains real stats, intense banter, and one man’s emotional spiral powered by reversed karaoke. Viewer discretion, and maybe a therapist, is advised.

Gracie (calm, confident):

“Hello there I’m Gracie he’s Jack and it’s time for another Sports Smackdown—also known as ‘Gracie is right, Jack is wrong, and the Premier League and NASCAR prove it.’”

Jack (groaning):

“Do we have to start with the gloating? Can’t we ease into the humiliation this week?”

Gracie:

“Jack, you picked Crystal Palace to beat Manchester City. That’s not a bold prediction— that’s a message from a cracked crystal ball and a discount tarot deck.”

Jack:

“There were owls, Gracie.”

Gracie:

“Jack, maybe the owls were just birds. Maybe they were just sitting there because they were tired, you’re not the owl Whisperer.”

Jack:

“There were omens. How do you ignore that many omens? Plus, my Premier League picks were made during a full moon. That has to count for something.”

Premier League Recap

Gracie (pulling up the results):

“Here’s how it went: City thrashed Palace 5-2. Everton stunned Forest in the 94th minute. Villa steamrolled Southampton like they were a warm-up lap. Arsenal drew. Leicester and Brighton split points. I nailed three, you nailed… chaos. Maybe next time make your predictions during the sunlight?”

Jack:

“Everton was a bold call and it hit. That’s a Maverick Moment. The rest? Look, maybe I should’ve picked based on chicken entrails instead of chakras.”

Gracie (smirking):

“You would’ve had the same results and a messier kitchen. But go on, tell me again how moonlight affects midfielders.”

Jack:

“Wissa scored for Brentford, so technically I was cosmically half right.”

Gracie:

“And I’m pretty sure that if you get 10 more ‘cosmic half rights’ you earn a free brownie and a complimentary seat at the ‘Delusional But Confident’ table in the break room”

Jack:

“As long as I’m facing the coffee maker, that’s the lucky seat.”

NASCAR at Bristol Recap

Gracie:

“Now, let’s talk NASCAR. Bristol gave us the full rollercoaster this weekend. Kyle Larson dominated like a man possessed—led 411 laps and made it look easy.

That’s how you win a NASCAR short track race—with precision, power, and a car that doesn’t quit.”

Jack:

“It was impressive. Annoyingly impressive.”

Gracie:

“My NASCAR picks? Larson, Blaney, Bell, Ty Gibbs—all in the top 10. Bowman was my only miss, and that wasn’t on me. His engine basically sent him a breakup text on Lap 285.”

Jack (wincing):

“Look, Stenhouse gave it a try. Josh Berry and Carson Hocevar held steady. But SVG—Shane van Gisbergen—finished 38th. You know what that means, right?”

Gracie:

“It means your NASCAR predictions need a caution flag and maybe a priest.”

Jack:

“No. It means… it’s time to reverse the curse.”

Gracie (eyeing him):

“Oh no. What does that mean? I’m afraid to ask.”

Jack (dead serious):

“Polly and I are going back to the Spotlight Lounge. We’re going to sing Eye of the Tiger again—but backwards. Line by line. Word for word. Reversed. I call it: Tiger the of Eye: The Undoing. It’s like a NASCAR pit stop for the soul.”

Gracie (blinking):

“You think singing the same song backwards will fix things with Aurora? Jack, this is why NASCAR has spotters—to prevent collisions. You need a romantic spotter.”

Jack:

“If the original duet created the chaos, then logically—and I use that word loosely—reversing it could neutralize the damage.”

Gracie:

“You are one dreamcatcher away from becoming Wacky Benny’s roommate.”

Jack:

“This isn’t nonsense, Gracie. This is science. Karaoke science. NASCAR runs on engineering and timing. My love life should too.”

Gracie:

“While Jack attempts to spiritually un-sabotage himself, I’ll be over here watching Premier League highlights and NASCAR replays—two things that make sense and actually involve winners.”

Jack:

“If this works, I’m writing a book. Love in Reverse: How to Win Her Back Through Backward Rock Ballads. There’ll be a whole NASCAR chapter: Pit Stops and Heart Drops.”

Gracie:

“Can’t wait for the audiobook. Especially the last chapter: ‘The Restraining Order Was Just a Misunderstanding.’”

That’s all for this week’s Sports Smackdown. Gracie wins, Jack spins, and karaoke might break the space-time continuum. Tune in next week to see if the reversed Eye of the Tiger saves Jack’s relationship—or just gets him banned from the Spotlight Lounge permanently.

Satire in progress: contains mocktails, metaphors, and mild generational trauma.

Nova (beaming): Corny Baby, you are going to lose your mind—in a good way, I promise.

I just discovered one of the best places to socialize in the city. It’s called the CTRL Room—and it’s everything.

Think glowing keyboards, retro-futuristic lighting, silent disco floors, kombucha on tap, and a full mocktail bar that’s basically a botanical laboratory with better lighting.

Cornelius (grimacing): I don’t know if you just described a bar or a malfunctioning spaceship.

Best places to socialize?

Nova, when I was your age, we didn’t need six DJs and a kombucha flight just to talk to someone.

Nova: You don’t get it because your generation thought “socializing” meant shouting over a band named after a seafood dish while chain-smoking and pretending to like jazz.

CTRL Room is intentional. It’s curated. It’s where people actually connect without yelling. It’s one of the best places to socialize for a reason.

Cornelius: Connect? With headphones on?

Nova: Yes! It’s a silent headphone disco.

You can switch channels depending on your vibe—EDM, hip-hop, retro funk, even conspiracy-core if Wacky Benny DJ’d that night.

You’re dancing with your friends, but you’re all hearing different things.

Cornelius: So I’m singing the wrong words to Aerosmith while you’re singing the wrong words to Zeppelin. How do we connect?

Nova: It’s genuine. It’s like a metaphor for individuality in harmony.

Cornelius: It’s a metaphor for loneliness in denial.

Nova (rolling eyes and laughing): You’re exhausting.

So here’s how I found out about it—Nelly told me.

We were talking after her latest segment on digital postcards from Reykjavik, and she was like, “You have to come with me to CTRL Room.

It’s one of the best places to socialize for people who don’t like socializing.” And that sold me.

Cornelius: Nelly’s show is called ‘Virtual Travel Adventures’ and that sentence is a paradox. You all live in paradox now.

Nova: Anyway, we get there, and who do we run into? The new intern—Orion Chase.

Cornelius: Who?

Nova: You haven’t met Orion yet?

He alphabetizes the coffee pods in the break room and fixed the Wi-Fi with, like, a toothpick and a quote from Carl Sagan.

He also writes poetry and can tell you everything about the constellation he’s named after because his mom said she didn’t want to name him after his dad, Ralph.

Cornelius: I actually respect that logic. Being named after puke would lead to a traumatic childhood.

Nova: He ordered a lavender lemon spritz and then read us a poem about data loss and longing.

I’m telling you, Cornelius, this place is magic. It’s one of the best places to socialize if you actually want to meet people who care about things.

Cornelius: When I was your age, the best places to socialize were coffeehouses and record stores.

You met someone by flipping through vinyl or debating whether Coltrane’s early work was overpraised.

You didn’t need glowing walls and curated playlists. You just…talked.

Nova: Wow. So much talking. Did you ever dance?

Cornelius: Yes. To live music. With someone. At the same tempo.

Nova: That’s cute. But we have themed karaoke nights and Meme Trivia Mondays.

I just went to a round called “Finish That Vine.” Try doing that at a smoky jazz club, Corny.

Cornelius: I’d rather finish a pizza and some wings at the sports pub with friends. Our version of a round was yelling about the ref’s bad call.

But I will admit—this Orion fellow sounds…interesting. Poetry, astronomy, alphabetized coffee.

Suspiciously well-rounded.

Has HR vetted him?

Nova: He’s an enigma wrapped in an eco-friendly cardigan, and I will not have you ruining this.

CTRL Room is where the new culture is being built.

It’s low-pressure, zero-proof, weirdly soulful—and absolutely one of the best places to socialize for the modern generation.

Cornelius (sighs): Fine. But if anyone hands me a kombucha and tells me to dance in silence, I’m leaving. Loudly.

No interns, DJs, or elder egos were harmed in this satirical exploration of “vibe.”