Today I was told by my friend Herbie that I've probably spent at least one year of my life making sandwiches and that I should stop since it's a waste of time and that since I was pretty much a failure in life already I should spend every waking moment I have trying to salvage my existence. I considered it for a moment before kicking Herbie out of my house. When he asked me why I was kicking him out I didn't reply and hit him in the nuts with an old can of OK Cola that had been sent to me on my eighteenth birthday. I'd thought about all the time I'd waisted being Herbie's friend when I could have been making sandwiches.
Fuck you, Herbie. I heart sanwiches and that can of soda was probably worth more than your stupid balls.