Sometimes You Are Handed A Golden Goose

I was chatting with my friend, K, tonight. We've often pondered the publication of our chats in a public forum because, well, we thinking we're hilarious, and we are. Here's a sample from tonight's chat:

me: hey, freak

K: hey

i'm sweating to death, how bout you?

me: i've had a fucking cold for 2 weeks.

just drank some pond water my hairdresser/herbalist gave me.

K: far out, mine only lasted a week and a half-but my left nostril had a hole in it for at least 2

why in the hell would you do such a thing?

me: i figured it would kill me or kill the cold. i'm desperate. i can't buy anymore nyquil without a note.

K: interesting theory

me: i don't think you're supposed to drink a bottle a day. i was just going off my vodka consumption.

turns out nyquil has other shit in it besides the booze.

K: yes, but were you still drinking the vodka?

me: yeah, how else would i get my vitamin c?

Then we segued into some other realms, like golf, weight loss, and hoarding. K has a grandpa who's a hoarder. It appears he mostly hoards the shit he already has, as opposed to buying new shit. K took the liberty of emailing me some proof, which I now offer to you as Exhibit A in the case for Why You Should Throw Some Shit Out:

grampshoes

These are Grandpa's slippers (I am using the noun "slippers" here in the loosest possible form as there's merely a slip left of these bad boys.)

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