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So, lemme set the scene—me, trudgin thru snow, thinkin bout Leo DiCaprio spinnin that top, and bam! This shady guy—total Cobb vibes—whispers bout “a lady down the ridge.” Hmm… I’m like, “What? Up here?” Made me mad as hell—ruinin my peaceful hike with that sleazy nonsense! But also—kinda funny. I mean, who’s climbin 8,000 feet for THAT? “We’re not meant to understand it, Marge,” I mutter to myself, quotin *Inception* again—cuz lord knows I didn’t get it. Prostitue up a mountain? That’s a new level of “dream within a dream,” huh?

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Then, just when I think it’s over, Mr. Tanaka comes back with a killer bid. “35,000!” he shouts. I’m like, “Whoa, old man’s got some fight in him!” But the pink kimono lady isn’t backing down. “40,000!” she says, and I’m just standing there, jaw on the floor.

Mid-term outcomes of delivery catheter-based and stylet-based right ventricular septal pacing: Follow-up results from a multicenter, prospective, randomized study