Fucking shit this guy is a 4.91 and has a badge for great conversation. Time to knock this toaster directly into the bathtub and call it a night. Anything…Jesus anything but having to sit in Tyler’s black Prius that is a million fucking degrees and smells like a sopping wet golden retriever that has been furiously chain smoking clove cigarettes but using Axe to cover it up all because of the humiliation. Tyler doesn’t have the dog and that smell seems to be coming out of his mouth.

But the drink is calling, and when the drink calls you don’t dare disobey. You’ll have to torch through some tongue calories and a hell of a lot of brain cells before you’re huffing duster and waiting it out at a glory hole in River North.

This creepy fucker isn’t going to give it to you easy. This snarling little shit troll in the front seat probing and prodding, massaging a lifeless corpse of tired pleasantries to life. Then once those have been exhausted, it’s time to dump the heavy stuff.

His impossible battle with chronic dandruff. Self-discovery. The fact that God is definitely a man. Infertility. How Alex Jones is just misunderstood and might actually be the messiah. All lives matter and that he’s been driving for 70 hours straight trying to escape his past which refuses to stay buried.

Rolling down the window in this goddamn soupy crockpot will only raise more questions, so sit back and brave the hell that has consumed you. Enjoy a free dirty Altoid and then drink it all away.