No one knows...

I have been driving back and forth from St. John's to C.B.N. everyday all week. I don't mind it as much as I thought I would. It's really kicking the shit out of my car though. My car is black. Salt is white. My car looks like a zebra. Then a crack developed in the windshield. My car looks a lot older than it's 16 months. It's starting to look like a car that someone who has dealings with drugs would drive around in. Winter needs to fuck off now....
On one my trips in over the highway, I hear on the radio that Queens of the Stone Age is playing in St. John's. I immediately call Warford, which is illegal. It's not illegal to call warford, just when I am driving the car. You all know that. Anyways, I realize that calling Warford at 7:45 in the morning is just as useful as shitting in my own hand. He either went to bed 2 hours ago or still hasn't gone to bed yet because he is immersed in some video game that I don't like and can't become unglued to answer the phone.
I don't why I shit on you so much Warford. You are one of my bestest friends and it's so easy.....