Somehow someone somewhere thought it was a good idea to give me a new Maybach for a few days. While Iā€™m sitting in the back seat, running my bare feet along the inches-thick carpeted floor mats, trolling Craigslist for a chauffeur that owns the very specific orange plaid tux I demand, Iā€™ve got time for questions. Veuve is flowing. Yeezy is blasting. Come at me!

First, Mercedes hasnā€™t provided a sticker, so I donā€™t know the exact price (somewhere north of $200k). Second, yes, I actually took it to get cheap tacos. Third, Iā€™m actually answering all your questions from the back seat thanks to the built-in WiFi. Hereā€™s proof:

My back is being massaged. My toes are barely touching the passenger seat. There are pillows and buttons and screens and an ashtray that I desperately want to fill with Swedish Fish. Or coke. Or coke-covered Swedish Fish. Whatever. Ask away!


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