Can’t talk. Hungover. Renovating. Renovating with a hangover. Can you even imagine?
I was at the Nokia Theatre in LA last night, for the opening of that Michael Jackson movie (ehh). Lando had tickets, so I rolled with him.
It always gets murky and weird when we get together. Always. A couple of catch-up drinks quickly devolves into a night of serious Caligulan depravity. I can’t remember much of what happened after we left the premier, but I do vaguely recall Lando “making it rain” on two hookers in a 7 Eleven, and I think I had an argument with Dr J about who was sitting the front seat on the way to Jumb’s Clown Room… At about 6 am we were playing this game that involved a lit cigarette on the end of a fishing line, and now the carpet in Lando’s living room is peppered with little scorch marks. That’s the renovating I was talking about. We have to rip the carpet up and have it replaced before his wife gets home from Majorca.
Then, as soon as we’re done, I have to fly to Florida for a boat race.
And that’s why the posts are getting thinner and fewer.
Thanks for Xanax, Quincy.