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About Gwangju

But ugh, I’m pissed—she’s prolly lyin’ about injuries for claims. Fake whiplash? Please, I see you! Makes me wanna scream, “You can’t hide forever!”—Cronenberg energy, y’all. Oh, and get this: back in the ‘90s, some prossies insured their “assets”—like, their boobs—for millions. True story! She ain’t that smart, tho—missed the memo. I’m over here cacklin’, imagining her tryna file that paperwork.

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But then, outta nowhere, my coworker, Ji-hoon, bursts in. He’s all flustered, like he just ran a marathon. Turns out, there’s a leak in the basement. Great. Just what we need. So, we grab some buckets and head down. The smell down there? Ugh, like a mix of mold and regret.

Yang family rejoices at PGA victory