This limousine is so fucking long, in front of a pink building, that a simple human Polaroid image ensnarler could not contain it’s glory and maintain proper focus. One day, I’m gonna have a car just like this, sitting around, waiting to take me places, because I drive it to escort rich people or high school kids splurging and splooging through a prom night. If I’m lucky, maybe one day an NBA player will accidentally kill me trying to do bar tricks with a shotgun and the Harlem Globetrotters.
This is a schoolbus convered in graffiti. I know in my heart that most likely it was white people who did such a thing, and they probably have some stupid band that I would never enjoy in a million beers. But still, I am attracted to such things. I cannot help it. It is like cleavage on fat black women.
Last year’s summer, I would look up car cruise-ins to go take pictures. I took my kids to one at the new Food Lion with the crooked aisles in Goochland, and this was a car we saw. It was a shitty cruise-in, as if there is such a thing as a cool one. How come drunk dudes don’t have cruise-ins? Aren’t there any booze-ins anywhere? The grey-hairs at this thing were fucking squaresville man, and I say that uber dorkily on purpose, because even talking like that would be the equivalent of penis tattoos to those uptight fuckers.
And another snap from that shitty cruise-in in Goochland. This was the pimpest car, because he had fake dice on his tire stems and door locks. But he also had some stupid assed fake drive-in restaurant tray on his driver’s side door with some plastic hamburger bullshit. The gay overrules the okay on that one.
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