There are so many things I love about you, such as when you give me your old Powell/Peralta tshirts, or get ice for me at my job and bring me painkillers when I hurt my back, or help me jump my weird car. I like it that you have electronics that I can borrow, or if I somehow get my own--usually from an awesome boy-- you can fix for me. What I despise about you though is that you shove in front of me toward the end of a show, during my favorite song, and jock around with your wretched friend who, SOMEHOW, has worse hair than you. WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING HERE??? Why aren't you out at a beer garden with the other people who work at Enterprise Rental Car?