This is the best of both worlds, staring me right in the face. It is a shitbox Mercury Monarch, born not from jets, but from the decomposed, assraped carcass of the 1960 Ford Falcon. No one will mistake it for a Mercedes, trust me.
Dad: I approve of this car so long as no one drops a golf ball on it from space!
Part two of the mistake? Green.
Dad: Look at my shiny green suit! I call it “pistachio,” for obvious reasons! ** White Belt and White Loafers make it pimpin’ like Huggy Bear!
Green suits are like meth – not even once.
**Dad: Also, because my balls will be that small once she is through with me!