First Class

You know, there is something to be said about adding cream to soup, screwing black guys, and flying first class. (Alex knows all about this… flying first class, that is, not the screwing black guy thing.) Normally, I slum it in “economy class” with the rest of the poor slobs, but since Teeny (my Mom) booked my recent flight, I was styl’n first class the entire trip. (It’s truly amazing how much crap my parents will endure and still find it in their heart to spoil their ungrateful and sexually explorative baby daughter.) After this recent pleasure trip, it will be difficult to go back to the old lifestyle of cramped seats, crying babies, and having to actually pay for my drinks. But, I suppose you can say the same about sex, drugs, and liquor. Once you have the good shit, it’s tough to go back to cheap stuff. This weekend and next, it’s back to airline slumsville and picking up random guys in Red Sox hats trying to look cooler than they really are. Even though I resentfully dread going back to coach, Momma Teeny still deserves mad props for upgrading my punk-ass. To show my gratitude, mext time we’re out to dinner, I won’t steal money from her purse… well, no more than a hundred.