Sunday, January 1, 2017

Look, just because I'm driving a Mercedes SLK 230 doesn't mean I'm an asshole

Look, just because I got a sick ride for a hell of a deal doesn't mean I'm an asshole.

My wife's car did the equivalent of a human intending to use the toilet, shitting all over the floor, and dying. We needed a new car and a family member showed mercy and I can't thank them enough.

A friend told me people were going to treat my car differently. I didn't understand but later that night, when I went to show him my ride some jerk threw the remainder of their quinoa salad wrap on it. He turned and said, "See?"

Look, just because I'm driving a Mercedes SLK 230 doesn't mean I'm an asshole.

Oh, shit. It's an SLK 320.

I know I stopped going to In-N-Out and started ordering takeout at TGI Fridays but, I gotta eat the way my ride looks like I eat. TGI, sure it's a more expensive burger but they also sell birds at TGI.

Yeah, I say bird instead of chicken now. It's totally not because I'm driving a Mercedes SLK 320. Did I mention it's a convertible?

I don't tip as much anymore because you have no idea how much insurance is on a sports car. You'd think everyone thinks everyone who drives a sports car is an asshole but believe me, I only go 90 when some Japanese box revs their engine at me. Then I speed through that crosswalk, throw the old TGI Fridays bird at them, and lower my Ray Bans down the bridge of my nose at the officer and ask, "Do I look like I can't afford your fucking ticket, Officer Pussy Dick?"

I may have changed my router name to "Don't You Fucking Think About Touching My Car, It's The Mercedes SLK 230- I mean 320," but that doesn't mean I've lost my center. I started seeing a Yogi. You might have heard of him. His name is Dave and he works at Whole Foods. He's helping me find my center. Don't worry. He does it for donations.

What's up, Dave?

That quinoa salad wrap I found on my car? That was me because I want to prove that I don't give a shit about status. I'm so far out of your box that you call culture that I threw my fifteen dollar salad wrap on my own car just to prove the victimization I face because of societal perception of my wealth and how it correlates to my personality to my friends.

Those friends? I don't even have them anymore. I bought better friends. They're called my Mercedes SLK 320, dummy.

1 comment:

  1. I didn't realize you were a blogger! Cool.

    Years ago my ex-brother-in-law drove an old Mercedes. He was a weird, Austin-ite, hippie, musician type guy who worked construction on the side to make ends meet, although they never met. He and his wife racked up lots of parking tickets while driving the Mercedes in and around Austin with no intention of paying them. One day while driving a different vehicle, a policeman pulled him over for some simple driving offense. The policeman decided not to give my BIL a ticket, but did run his name, Jack Rogers, through the system. Sure enough, it came back as having lots of unpaid parking tickets on a Mercedes. Jack told the policeman that there must me another Jack Rogers, because there was no way a guy like him would drive a Mercedes. The policeman agreed and let him go.