You're Killin' Me, Smalls! - The Last Arnold Palmer

The Last Arnie

One left. One single tall boy of perfectly mixed relaxation in liquid form left. The problem isn't just that once I take it, I won't have any left. The problem is that my roommate won't have any left because it's his. I could take his last Arizona and enjoy the perfect beverage and deal with the consequences later or suffer now and have to walk all the way to MacCracken Market. Life is so hard. Another annoyance? My roommate belongs on that show "Hoarders." He keeps almost all of his old Arizona cans and builds mini fucking pyramids on top of our fridge. It's like he never had Legos as a kid and now feels like he has ot make up for his lost childhood or something. Every time I close our fridge they either shake making a noise so obnoxious there are literally no words to describe it or they all come crashing down like the Berlin Wall. 

Modern Art? No. 

          Now J.D offers his wisdom and extensive knowledge of the legendary Arnold Palmer. 

"I'm sure he had his hobbies"