Meet Sour Bob’s Best Friend:

Meet Sour Bob’s Best Friend:

My Best Friend Is The Most Annoying Person In The World

I didn’t plan to end up with this guy as my best friend.

He’s painfully uncool. He watches wrestling for chrissakes. He loves video games and insists on discussing their nuances in agonizing detail, even as I’ve assured him repeatedly that I do not give a fuck. His wardrobe is an odd mix of items that should have died on the Old Navy clearance rack and tattered college sports memorabilia. He has thick glasses and what has been uncharitably called both a “proceding hairline” and a “forehead deficiency.” His musical tastes would embarrass a fifty-something Iowa cross-stitcher. He owns three of every conceivable electronic appliance, and they all suck. If you need to borrow a temperamental laptop or a badly aging offbrand television set, he’s your man.

He owns the most aggressively awful automobile I have ever seen. The fact that it continues to run is both a testimony to his pathologically obsessive maintenance and an affront to the millions of far more worthy cars that had long since gone to the great parking lot in the sky by the time his odometer crossed 175,000 miles. You’d be dumbfounded by how gutted and horrific the interior looks… if the sagging fabric from the ceiling wasn’t blocking your view.

Doesn’t everyone have a friend like this?