That last post makes it seem like we were 10 feet away from Paula in our seats. Not the case, we saw her while we were making our way to the will-call line. My phone battery died during the game so here’s an update. Before the red-eye drive back we stopped in Hollywood and ate at Roscoe’s House of Chicken ‘n’ Waffles. Jason and Wally asked where I heard of the place, and I said “some rap songs”.

“Going back to Cali” – Notorious B.I.G.

Linens and things, I begin things
People start to flash, 818’s, 213’s
313’s, B.I.G.
Frequently floss hoes at Roscoe’s

“Hustler Remix (Featuring John Cena)” – Murs

I hustle like the homey Fo-Five, rest in peace
While you bark a lot about your glock, never had to walk the walk
You ain’t a gangster homeboy, just a dude who likes to talk a lot
That’s why you got your chain snatched in a Roscoe’s parking lot

“Murda” – The Game

Today there been 10 murders in South Central alone.
The boys in the hood said Cube been gone too long.
So take my advice, I’m talkin’ to all rappers,
When you eat a Roscoe’s watch out for the chain snatchers.

Crime: half-chicken dark meat fried and topped with gravy, 2 waffles with butter and syrup, and mac & cheese. Punishment: 72-mile bear crawl. It was awesome, even though our waitress brought our food out and decided it’d be a good time to go home. Probably one of the more memorably enjoyable meals of my life. Jason passed out and there’s basically nothing to see between L.A. and San Jose, so Wally and I burned the midnight oil talking about our feelings. We’re gonna go hunting and talking about monster trucks today to compensate.