WELCOME TO DALLAS...
It eats away at your soul, slowly turning you to the dark side. You start
to think "hey, it might be kind of fun to work out in the morning, fake bake
in the afternoon, then drive around with the top down, your arm around a
scantily clad female with tits younger than your relationship who doesn't
care about you or your money, just the limit on your Visa and how close you
are to it." You start shopping at Armani, Prada and Versace, spending fifty
bucks on a t-shirt that turns you into a walking billboard.
You trade the ever-responsible Honda in for a Mercedes SLK or Porsche
Boxster - never mind that you can't afford it, that's why God made leasing.
You sell all of your belongings, leave the nice, quiet neighborhood with
the big yard and spacious house and move into a three hundred square foot loft
with four particle-board walls on top of a historically significant
neighborhood the developer regrettably had to blaze to make way for 2,000
units. Never mind that it's ten dollars a square foot in rent, that's why
God made credit cards. Before you know it, you're a part of the inner
circle,spending thirteen fifty on martinis, smoking Cohibas that you don't
even like the taste of, and snorting nose candy off the granite counter in
the bathroom.
You hook up with the girl who showed you how well the scars around her
nipples healed after the enhancement and you consider getting serious until
the next night when she blows more than cocaine in the bathroom with a
group of guys. Soon enough you settle down and get married, you get a big
promotion at work and you and your $50,000 salary buy a $450,000 cottage in
the Park Cities, because, well, it's just what you do. Never mind that you
don't qualify, that's why God made balloon payments. The missus spends
twice as much to get her "enhancements" removed, blows $200 a month to dye her
hair then decides she needs a Jag because "Barb down the street got one and
her husband doesn't make near what you make." You trudge along, kissing ass
at work, and slowly but surely build a debt larger than most undeveloped
third-world countries.
You look up and you've got two screaming brats and you thank God you
over-paid for your house so that they can go to Highland Park High. Junior
hates you because his friends allowances are more than you make in a year
and your girl hates you because almost all of her friends have new boobs
and "the ninth grade is not too young for implants!" The kids start doing X,
going to all night raves in Deep Ellum, and piercing their nipples. You get
another huge promotion and the old lady convinces you to take that $90,000
salary and buy a $250,000 cottage across the street, tear it down, and
build a $1.5 million faux French chateaux monstrosity on the thirty foot lot.
Your dumb-ass kids can't hack college and all you have to pay for is Collin
County Community College, which, quite frankly makes you happier than
getting in an ass-kicking contest with a one-legged man because you're one
payment to Neiman's away from going bankrupt.
That, my friends, is what I have to look forward to in this city |
