Friday

Man, oh man. Friday night was awesome. When I got home from eating a lot ice cream, I discovered the deadbolt on my apartment door was peeved at me. No matter how much I tried to coax it open, I couldn't get it unlocked. I even checked the number on my door to make sure I was on the right floor.

DEADBOLT: I don't think so.
ME: Come on. Be a pal.
DEADBOLT: Not gonna happen. Prick.
ME: Not cool.
DEADBOLT: Whatever.
ME: I will end you.

It went on like that for a while. It turns out, the lock on my door is about 1080 years old it decided to stop accepting any and all keys from the likes of me. So I called a turkish locksmith - or a turksmith.

TURKSMITH: Bro!
ME: Can you fix it?
TURKSMITH: Turkeyeh!
ME: So yeah...
TURKSMITH: $430, guy.

$430 gd dollars. It's just a lock. Jeez. But I took it like a man - something I learned from watching OZ.