Chris (2:25 PM): So yeah, it gets worse.<br/>Chris (2:25 PM): After being ditched by two different people for lunch I decide I’d limp over to the building next door to get some food because I’d eaten at my desk Monday-Wednesday and am sick of the sammiches downstairs. I managed not to get over there until around 2pm and despite being only 27 seconds past the hour, they won’t serve me. After some arguing I get them to sell me a crusty old chicken sammich for $5 plus change. They tell me I need exact change because the registers are already closed and the money has been collected. I say I should have it but low and behold, I have a $20. Ten minutes of standing on my busted ass ankle later I have my $15 and my food but for some reason I can’t seem to find my dignity. I wonder if I left that in the hole in the neighbor’s yard this morning, or maybe at home with my security badge. My vicodin are looking really good right about now.<br/>Me (2:27 PM): vicodin? you need a gun.<br/><br/>It should also be noted that I was one of those who ditched Chris. I take responsibility for his suicide.