So, I come home from lunch and there's a big ass Ford 250 truck (early 80s vintage) in the parking lot next to my car. Lots of stars n stripes pinstriping, a flag moire film on the back window, flag air freshener . . . and something hanging off the trailer hitch.
I got closer, just out of morbid curiousity.
The truck had one of these charming little items hanging off the back.
I started today with a bad attitude towards men for a number of reasons. This didn't help things.
I mean, really. What kind of man feels the need to put testicles on his truck? No less, on his truck that already screams "I'm a jingoistic moron!" It's not like I have a uterus on the back of my car, or giant boobies on the front? Just what does a pair of plastic balls say about the owner of a vehicle?
So I walked back to my apartment stairs, shaking my head, wearing my "disgusted" face and this fat loser that lives downstairs is standing by his apartment door.
"Somethin' wrong with my truck?" he asks.
I roll my eyes and go upstairs. Yuck gross yuck. So know I know I live upstairs from possibly the ugliest American I've met so far. Hoo rah.