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I found out I still possess an adrenal gland today.

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My hands shake as I sit here typing this. I just went out and hotboxed a smoke. Six drags and one three inch cherry. AC/DC pours out of the TV speakers while scenes of the most incredible vehicular mayhem play out on the screen. Should I go back in for another round? The sweat hasn't finished drying on my clammy palms yet. Oh well.

I've got this weird cramping feeling around the bottom of my rib cage. It's an odd feeling. One not felt in a while. Heart attack? No, my ticker's good. Perhaps it's time to snag the GBA and visit the porcelain god. No, it's too high up for that. Maybe dinner didn't agree with me. Oh that's right, I haven't eaten yet. No, this pain can only be one thing. The tortured scream of my adrenal gland that is overworked from constantly blasting my system with shots of adrenaline.

What's caused this normally stoic gamer to become a quivering heap of raw nerves and sweat? Why Burnout 3 of course. I like racing games. I played GT3 until my eyes bled. I played Gotham online until my wife threatened divorce. I played F Zero GX until I thought I would snap.

However, none of those games are in the same ball park as Burnout 3. It has redefined the very concept of a racing game. Take everything you knew about racing games. All the rules and conventions. Now throw them out the window. Crashing is a good thing in this game. Well, not a good thing, it can be a good thing.

But enough for now. I've got a multi-million dollar pileup to cause. I'll post more on this later, but let's just say it's been a very good day.

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