Meet Hank

When did I become a single,retired, ex-frat-boy named Hank who sits in his wife beater w/ his hand down his pants? Ok...so maybe my hand isn't down my pants (at least not all of the time), but I am really starting to worry about myself. I woke up this morning and was like...hmmm I need some breakfast. I went to the fridge, wife-beater, no bra, hair wild, scratched my ass (just keepin' it real)...

Looks innocent right?

Then...I opened it...

This is soooo not OK people. Can we just analyze this for second. The only thing that is truly edible up in this mug is some Kraft Parmesan Cheese. And if that doesn't do it for ya...no worries...cause there is a giant block of parm in the drawer too. Why in the hell do I have so much fucking parm?! I mean, clearly I haven't been cooking, so on what have I been putting it? There is enough beer and wine for when my homies come over...oh...and a Forty for when I feel street.

So what did I do you ask?

Closed that shit...made some mint tea...and had a handful of M&Ms....DUH!