I sit in your closet collecting dust, regretting that my only purpose was to fit your head and no one else's. What ever happened to loyalty?
Feeling sad? Self-esteem finally bottomed out? Skip the Zoloft and go with today's leading anti-depressant regimen: rap music.
By setting such an unattainable standard for human behavior and existence, Chick-fil-A workers reveal just how miserably inferior the rest of us are.
The barbwire tattoo around this douchebag's arm essentially screamed, "None of my shirts have sleeves and I punch walls when I get insecure about my small penis!"