This is a foul-mouthed guide for you, the customer, when dining out, because most of us servers agree that the majority of you are assholes. Please heed these rules.
This is the story of my first car, a 1995 silver Ford Thunderbird. It went by many names, most of which incorporated four-letter words I screamed when one of a million things went wrong.
There are steps every male needs to take in order to be considered a real man amongst his peers. Rites of passage that go well beyond arm pit hair, ball-dropping, and deuce-dropping.