I like long romantic walks on the beach, except when you step on a shell and it cuts your foot so bad that you have to go to the hospital to get stitches. Then because you can't walk and are dependent on your significant other, they leave you for the mail carrier with the gimpy leg and unibrow. You dive into a deep hole of depression, gain 500 pounds, lose all self respect and die one of those New York deaths where you're stabbed (assuming the knife is long enough to pierce through that thick layer of fat), left to bleed on the sidewalk; only to be an annoyance to those who are forced to circumnavigate your decaying corpse in their path...
Scratch that I hate long walks on the beach.
Shout out to my favorite FML poster(s):