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It's all about frat boys leaning in their windowframes, smoking cigars and dangling strings of beads out the window to try to get women to lift their shirts. I hope this is the most power they ever get to have. The thing is that you really do get to wanting the beads, I mean badly, almost desperately. On a side street, there's a contest: Guess how many beads are in the car, and you win the car. Beads shinier than new car paint have been poured, by the gross, over the dashboard and the seats and the floors. So, forget the car, can I have the beads?
So, forget the car, can I have the beads?
So, forget the car, can I have the beads?
So, forget the car, can I have the beads?
So, forget the car, can I have the beads?
So, forget the car, can I have the beads?