The dogs weren't talking to us, they were talking to their a-hole of an owner.
The dogs weren't talking to us, they were talking to their a-hole of an owner.
4/11. Never forget.
The driver. Always.
(Except when I’m a passenger in my mom’s car. I veto that shit.)
Whoever makes the payments
Can you imagine not being wealthy, saving up for the experience of a first class flight, and this shit happens?
If you look closely, you can see a Møøse in the back seat. Fucker grew up at a VAG dealership and would follow me from the lot back to my bay. All day, every day. Could climb a ladder and fetch a beer from the fridge...AND shut the fridge door. I think he ended up having more friends than me and I can't blame them.