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Rolling, rolling, rolling, keep that wagon rolling,
rolling, rolling, rolling, raw-hide!
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So there I was, walking down the street in this funny, funny world, specifically, Los Angeles, or more specifically, Santa Monica, and this car (fancy schmancy don't you know, some kind of juiced up convertible Jaguar/Mercedes construct, something so fancy you don't even know that you've seen one before or ever will see one again, probably an Aston Martin DB7 GT with the 6.o litre V12, standard touchtronic transmission, special red brake caliper, and 9-spoke alloy wheels, but that's just a guess), this car slows down beside me, and not wanting to act anything but the completely cavalier seen-everything-before-and-I'm-made-of-money-myself-don't-you-know dude that I am, and with an imperceptible glance I deduce that the driver is a super hot number blonde and the passenger is a super hot number brunette (even by LA standards), and I am thinking to myself, yes, at last, my moment has come.
It becomes evident that my mind is not playing tricks on me and indeed the car is slowing down with the sole purpose of initiating contact with yours truly.
At the appropriate moment when my coolness would not be tempered by seeming even remotely eager to speak with the occupants for any other reason than to be offering what modest yet genius brilliant assistance that only I could bring to the matters at hand in their lives, which are oh-so-significant to them, and yet such trifles to a worldly man of my status, knowing of course full well that adulation and adoration for my being are the only possible things that could spring forth from their full, wet lips, I turn my head in their general direction.
"Are you from around here?" asks the brunette demurely, leaning forward over the car towards me, coquettishly revealing more and more of her assets.
(why of course little lady, I can understand that you might mistake me for some Adonis from another planet, but remarkably I am no different in origins than my fellow man, even if I have surpassed him in all admirable qualities many, many years ago)
I nod blithely in that yes, I know my way round here, and no, I am not like any of the other local denizens, way.
She smiles coyly, in that oh, I knew the answer of course already fashion, and ~~
Oh, darn. Sadly, we are out of time. More on Tim's LA Adventures next week.
Picking Panthenon update: Tim won again last week, thereby guaranteeing that I will meet the requirements to maintain a 60% plus winning record with my best bets for at least a couple more shows. With the pressure off there is the danger of a letdown.
Favor: Pittsburgh -6.5
Tim's rebuttal to himself: faced with grave danger on all sides, I thought quickly through the options, reached into my Lumberjack utility belt and...
