See how nice your friend Andy is dressed? Why can’t you dress like that?

“I dress wonderfully.”

You dress like Jonah Hill after a house fire.

“That doesn’t even mean anything.”

You’re aging out of hypebeastdom.

“I am not aging out of anything. ANYTHING!”

Wow.

“I am often mistaken for a man in his twenties.”

By whom? Prosopagnosiacs?

…

…

…

“No! Not by people with face-blindness!”

You had to look that up, didn’t you?

“So did you!”

Just for the spelling. I’m just saying maybe you should let Andy take you shopping. You could go to Barney’s. You could meet a starlet there. Did you call Demi Lovato yet? Your window on that is closing.

“You disgust me.”

I’m trying to help you, dude. But you don’t want to be helped and only one thing can come of that.

Oh, don’t–

“You think you can get a bead on those rooty-toots, Cue Ball?”

“I will hit the tall one, the short one, etc., etc., etc.”

“I’m sorry. Frank Sinatra and Yul Brynner?”

Well, there are only so many photos of Nixon and Jackie Gleason playing golf. I work with what I have.

“Everything about this is bush league.”

Never denied that, broham.