You mention, one day, to your co-workers ONCE that you have, on occasion, played Call Of Duty: Modern Warfare 2, and the next day you happen to have a flare-up of a repetitive stress injury, and you show up to the office that morning in a makeshift wrist splint comprising a Rollerblade-brand youth-size wrist guard, and all of a sudden you’re the Guy that Plays Call of Duty Too Much.

I mean, I am, but I do not need the entire office knowing it.

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