As I walked back to my car after the 2008 Hanukah (Channukkah? Chanuca? Hannukka?) Casino party, in which I lost all my fake money but walked away with six chocolate coins, I was surprised to see my car surrounded and completely trapped by police cars. “LA MIGRA!!!” yelled my hypothalamus – the same thing I yell when looking to clear out some seats in a packed soccer stadium north of the border.
Then I remembered I’m here legally. The policemen were just enjoying some mediocre pizza at Roppolo’s and promptly let me out. But I thought I’d post this since a) It’s a cool photo and b) I’ve been looking for an opportunity to blur out a license plate.
I went to Houston last Friday with Jaramillo (and Mr. Johnny Kings who joined us there) to see legendary rock band The Police. Tickets were outrageously expensive, and so were the super-retro souvenir T-Shirts – but I still bit.
We sat in the corner above and to the left of the stage, which turned out to be not so bad, in spite of my initial cursing. Sting is awesome, and so is the drummer Stewart Copeland. Guitarist and one time Cerati collaborateur (an honor, no doubt) Andy Summers looks like he’s their dad.
Public acknowledgement goes out to Juan and Sandra for hosting us, in spite of my usual offensive body odor.
No ugly people were harmed making this blog.
As I walked back to my car after the 2008 Hanukah (Channukkah? Chanuca? Hannukka?) Casino party, in which I lost all my fake money but walked away with six chocolate coins, I was surprised to see my car surrounded and completely trapped by police cars. “LA MIGRA!!!” yelled my hypothalamus – the same thing I yell when looking to clear out some seats in a packed soccer stadium north of the border.