My dad is the coolest wing-person on the face of the earth. The other day, while my parents were out running around shopping and shit, they do that a lot, and for some reason, the places where they shop think I am a dog and have a no dogs allowed policy. Please! Seriously?!?! WTF, bitches? I am smarter than your honor student and I will kick the shit out of any honor student, bookworm, geek. Its the dumb kid who gets the "I have wonderful kid @ blah blah blah Elementary School" bumper sticker that I get worried about. But I digress. They came home from shopping with a new car for me. Defiantly an upgrade from past rides. They got a Mercedes Benz C300. Yea booooy we roll like 'dat!
Anyway, after Mom went to some movie premiere thing, (like I said, that’s how we roll!) Dad took me for a drive in my new car and of course we scored, well actually I scored and my dad showed off his wing-person skills. We met a couple of bitches in Clarendon, not far from the dog park. My bitch was a lovely Pomeranian named Sheena. Hairy bitch don't ya know, but not as hairy as her mom's upper lip. I couldn't believe my dad would go so far out there to help me out, but after a little butt sniffin, Sheena decided that we were good to go, so off we went while the parental units chatted it up. After a quickie out back of the dog park we got back to the owners before they knew were even gone. Sheena's owner sneezed and looked like a party favor, she had so much hair on her upper lip. Anyway after a few more pleasantries we went our separate ways, and that’s when Dad let me know I owed him one for taking out the grenade.
Wow! My Dad is cool. Now I just have to convince him to lend me the keys to that phat new Benzo sitting in the driveway!