My summer comes in two different colors – drunk and hungover. And that’s not me trying to be all like, “Hey man, look at me, I’m drinking, I’m so cool.” That’s me saying that I’m not trying to be sober when I’m at a pool, on a giant body of water, or sweating my balls off on the golf course. It’s just way more fun when you’re catching a buzz.
But in that same breath, drinking yields hangovers and hangovers yield poor impulse decision making when money is officially off the table. I’ll do pretty much fucking anything to either feel normal again or feel like I’m a better or cooler person than I actually am.
I’ve gone on record stating that I like bougie shit when I’m rocking a hangy – expensive sunglasses, lobster, champagne, lush lawns, swimming pools, expensively scented body lotion, and club sandwiches from country clubs where I’m definitely not a member. But this summer just feels different. I don’t know if it’s because I’m tired of being at country clubs because of all these damn weddings, but I’m trying to think outside the box here. Which is why my brain is fiending for this shit I can’t afford.
We’ve discussed Miatas at length. It’s been said that “Miatas are the boogie boards of cars,” and that Miatas are where business gets done. Miatas are one of those beautifully versatile things that’s perfect for any situation.
And you might be saying to yourself, “Will, Miatas aren’t luxurious, you can get one on Craigslist for like two grand.” And you’re right. If I wanted to scoop a ’95 merlot-colored Miata, I could, and I could for cheap. But Miatas aren’t just all windblown hair and smiles while listening to Phil Collins. Miatas cost a lot of money. Think about how much your insurance will go up if you’re adding on a classic like a Miata. Think about all the taxes you’ll have on the deals you’re closing in it. Think about the court fees you’ll be paying for all the DUIs and open containers you’re getting because it’s physically impossible to drive one without an open container. Those are real life realities.
I don’t know why I need a pair of Yeezy Boost 350s, but I need a pair of Yeezy Boost 350s. I’m on eBay looking for a ‘Buy Now’ steal in any color. I’ve got sketchy dudes in my DMs claiming to have pairs for $100 that are straight from an overseas factory. I’m debating getting arrested in airports whenever I see some luxuriously fashionable dude pairing them with some lululemon joggers.
At this point, it’s fucking obnoxious that I don’t have a pair. I haven’t wanted anything this badly since Playstation 2s were the hottest Christmas gift on the market, or since Tickle Me Elmos before that. And me? I got a fucking Playstation 2, and I got a Tickle Me fucking Elmo. Now I just need to Yeezy up before Kanye fishes himself out of debt by mass producing them for every poor out there.
Everyone knows that jetskis never go out of style. This might come off as blasphemous, but jetskis could even be considered the Miata of the lake.
But let’s call a spade “a spade” here – sit down jetskis are for the birds at this point. Sitting on a jetski is like riding in the sidecar of a classic hog while some alpha male scoffs at you while you ask for a pee break. You need to be in the thick of the action; in the driver’s seat. You need to have your feet firmly planted on the rubber padding with the wind blessing your sunkissed locks while you smile wide and think to yourself, “Aint life grand?”
If you’re not taking life by the handles and nose diving into waves while spinning some tail, you’re just a baby back bitch who doesn’t deserve summer in the first place. But between dock fees, insurance, and the injuries I’ll sustain while trying to huck a backflip, it’s just not in the cards for me. .
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