I just landed @ Ft. Lauderdale airport after the red-eye from Long Beach. When I made my car reservation, I was promised a Dodge Charger (asterisk alert: *or equivalent). So I immediately conjured up this image of driving around in this hot car with this hot Swede (more on her later). When I got to the Dollar counter, they notified me that they only had a Chrysler Pacifica. Or a minivan. Or something else ball-shrinking. Or I could get a Chrysler Sebring (Denny’s early bird special coupons not included) or a 300 (leaving me no money to blow at B.E.D. later).

Those are not equivalents. Keep in mind it’s 2:44 am PST and nothing would sound cool to me right now. They could pull up with a flying DeLorean and I’d bitch about having to feed it garbage. The only thing that will mollify me is to have my Collins Ave/Red Charger/Blonde Girl fantasy fulfilled. So I decide to wait it out until I get what I ordered. I send back an overcooked steak without hesitation, so I’m damn well going to reject Dollar’s attempts to put me in a Frank Costanza special. Del Boca Vista is *thattaway*, pal.