It took me exactly 38 minutes after wheels down to be ingesting my first In-n-Out Burger.
The guys standing on the corner holding up signs for the Snoop Dogg show enjoyed their job way too much. Two idiots flipping signs around and some other dork videotaping them. It took a lot to not swerve off the road and clip at least one of them.
I don't care how effeminate it is, the fruity mixed drink known as the "Scottsdale Dreamsicle" is damn good.
In watching the NBA's "Shooting Stars" competition, we quickly realized that there were at least two things wrong with that title.
David Stern pushes the WNBA like homeless guys push windshield squeegy cleanings.
There needs to be a drinking game that revolves around the number of times NBA players siting courtside ridiculously overreact to underwhelming dunks.
Number of times JDot and I were probably mistaken for a gay couple last night: 3.
Number of times it was directly related to something we said to a stranger: 2.
Zipps' 32 oz beers are the devil.
I'm pretty sure Arizona knew we were coming: first movie on HBO this morning was Die Hard.
Movie bad guys need to find more highly qualified henchmen. Isn't there an interview process or something?
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