Getting my bent tire frame repaired at my dealership. The service tech guy is so mean.
He needs to recognize that my drivers license may say "Grosse Pointe", but my street cred says "Detroit, bitch".
Imma roll my window down and throw up a gang sign on the way out. Which may be more knee-slapping hilarious than hide-behind-the-counter intimidating, considering I'll be doing it from an HHR.
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