Last week, I speculated that I would die, either in a plane crash or in a tragic murder-suicide due to be annoyed shitless by my five-year-old twins. (And, to a much lesser extent, by my young baby.) But it turns out neither scenario occurred. Yay!
There was only a small amount of turbulence, at which point I began shouting racist epithets at everyone around me and screaming about all of the terrible things I'd done in my life. As I learned later, however, it was actually a very normal amount of air shakery. And my sons were definitely a small amount of annoying -- shouting things like "OH MY GOD THE WING IS ON FIRE WE'RE GOING DOWN EVERYONE HOLD ON" was tops -- but mostly my eyeballs were aimed at a woman sitting near us who thought it a good idea to wear striped shorts.
Like, I don't even know where they'd sell something like that. Did she leave the house SPECIFICALLY looking to buy striped shorts? That doesn't seem like something that happens accidentally. I mean, you fucking have to hunt those shits down, bro. You have to be like, "No. NO. I don't want flat front shorts and I don't want cargo shorts and I don't even want plaid shorts. I need striped shorts. STRIPED. I need to like a goddamn optical illusion when I walk around this bitch."So we spent the week in Florida and it was perfectly pleasant. We were actually in the exact area where they filmed Jim Carrey's The Truman Show, if you can even believe that. (The picture above is the beach where we were).
Among the more enjoyable parts of the trip was the car Wife rented. It was a silver 2012 Chrysler Town & Country minivan and it was glorious. It's what Hulk Hogan would drive if he had to rent a car, I'm sure of it. It had power sliding side doors and a power rear door that beeped when it opened and shut itself. It had monstrous 13" rims and a key thatwasn't really a key but this block-like thing that you just touched to the where a key would have gone if the car was less swaggy. And it had a motherfucking analog clock on the dash which is basically the most player shit that any car can ever have. And it had satellite radio.
Satellite radio is generally little more than a hustle -- mostly, they're just playing a bunch of B-side songs nobody wants to hear anyway. But it's good for a few days at a time. So I was excited. We only listened to Shade 45, The Heat and Backspin, all hip-hop stations, because, I'm saying, bro, that's how you have to stunt on these hoes when your car has an analog clock on the dash. As we drove around and as songs came up and up and up, I noted a few of the standouts. The four best from the week.
Migos, "Versace," featuring Drake
Does Drake have the best guest verse of the year right here because I think Drake might have the best guest verse of the year right here and maybe not just of the year but of my whole entire lifetime because OH MY GOD WHEN I LISTEN TO THIS I GET SO AMPED THAT I WANT TO JUST SMASH MY OWN TESTICLES WITH A SLEDGEHAMMER THAT'S HOW GOOD IT IS.
Note: WTF is this? YouTube offered it up as a sideline suggestion. Keep that shit out of my face when I'm trying to boner up on Drake raps, YT.
Master P, "Make Em Say Uhh!"
Bro. Bro. BRO. I probably missed the school bus 40 times during my junior* year of high school because I was waiting to watch this video in the morning. Forever love.
*My parents were leery of getting me a car too early. They didn't want me speeding around and trying to have sex in it and whatnot. They bought me a red, early '90s Hyundai Scoupe for $2000 at the beginning of my senior year. I had it for about a week before I tried to convince my first girl to have sex with me in it. I ended up being late to work because of it. I sped there. I got pulled over and got a ticket. They took the car from me for two months. Two weeks after they gave it back to me, I rolled it into a ditch. Parents are smart but parents are also dumb. Nobody under 27 should own a car.