March 11, 2009

Maybe I should keep the top up

I had to have a convertible. So I did my research. I scoured every auto manufacturer's website getting the specs and starting prices for every model that offered a convertible option. After carefully considering all factors involved, I went with the car that satisfied my need for speed and my penchant for patriotism. I went with the Ford Mustang. Made right here in the U-S-of-motherfucking-A. A real American classic.

You turn the key and it rumbles like you fucked its sister.

I've had the car for about two years now, and needless to say I'm happy with it. Always have been, always will be. But about six months ago, one of my co-workers (who is a good friend) suggested that convertibles are gay (and let's just say he's an expert in the field). And if they're not gay, they're "fag magnets."

To this blasphemous venom of unAmericanism, I respond with a barrage of "that's bullshit's" and "fuck you dude's".

It wasn't but a week or two later that I would be the fool once again...

Saturday afternoon I was on my way home from somewhere, I think it was from the Save the Seals Foundation Luncheon. I had to accept an award for bravery or something for some habitat prevention project I headed back in '03. Something like that.

Anyways, I'm sitting at a red light with the top down about a block or two from my apartment when a guy in a silver Mercedes rolls down the window and asks me for directions. He's a weird looking dude, but his looks pale in comparison to his voice. His accent and vernacular tone is equal parts Ebonics, effeminate and Southern. He was speaking Ebofaggern.

Exthcuthse me. Say man, can you tail me how I get to Montrothse*?

Yeah, it's a cross street of Richmond. It's a little ways down though. Just stay on this for about another 15 lights or so.


*For my non-Houstonian readers, Montrose is the street that is home to several bars where members of the hairier gender prefer other members of the hairier gender.

While I'm a huge fan of stereotypes, I'm not a presumptuous guy so I don't think anything of it when the guy asks me how to get to Homoville. I'm just reveling in the post good Samaritan rush.

Well, we pull up to the next light and the guy still has his window down. And he was determined to eliminate all doubt. With a disturbing grin on his face...

Say man, thainks man. I'm just tryin to find me a dick that I can suck tonight.

Uh...heh...ha...I hear that. Well, you're going to the right place.

I circled the block a couple of times so Buffalo Bill couldn't see my complex and called it a day.

Anybody in the market for a Mustang convertible?

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