Brian: I woke up at around 7:45 to the sound of Mm...Bop! by Hanson. Dean's ring tone (which according to him is somewhat popular with the ladies). I don't buy it, especially since the call was coming from the ladies we had taken out the night before. They were requesting a pick-up from the apartment of the gentlemen they went home with.
Nick: Oops.
Brian: Dean played it cool and told them to take a cab. I think at this point Nick and I were ready to get out of Dodge, but everyone insisted on going out to breakfast. So we reluctantly went out one last time with these girls whom, outside of the context of a night out, looked like whores.
Nick: Ouch man. They were nice girls. Good family values. The eatery was action packed full of babies, which reminded us of a restaurant we had passed the previous night claiming to be the lone "babies only" restaurant in town. I don't doubt it. I mean, think about the logistics of that facility. Are the babies staffing everything as well, or are they merely the clientele? And isn't it a bit discriminatory? I think so. After a very pricey smoothie, we left our breakfasteria and after no small amount of prodding by me, rushed off to catch the football game. Which the Colts won. Is there anything we can't do? Well, I guess we can't eat at certain exclusive baby places in LA, but that's OK. Babies are the worst. Screw them. Before, during and after the game we pigged out on all manner of junk food then, just for the heck of it, ate a pulled pork sandwich even though none of us were hungry.
Brian: A little dip in Rod's hot tub worked wonders on my aching beer gut.
Nick: God bless America. O'er the ramparts and out.
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