The Rossman's California Dreams and Adventures
(page 2: The Case of the Missing Jock Strap)

At least the pigs were pretty hot and knew how to strip search like pros!! So after the cops handcuffed and questioned me about the drive-by (the cabby and his amigo had fled the scene after I drove into a massage parlor during the getaway ride) they beat me up a bit with some nightsticks, mace, the butts of their guns and a few tire irons. I snuck away after I was able to throw my voice to make it sound like one of the large male cops commented on the breast size of one of the female pigs. That started an all out bacon free-for-all as the officers began body slamming and clothes lining each other like the Rock VS. Hulk Hogan (is he even still alive?) in a cage match of doom. I borrowed one of their squad cars and high tailed it to my hotel over in Universal City. I only ran over 6 people and two animals along the way. Most died on impact or after I threw it in reverse and got them a few more times.

I made it to my hotel without any further complications, but the time zone changes and SoCal 1st degree smog alerts started making me feel not so fresh. I started having hallucinations of the Smog Monster and Godzilla battling it out over a slice of German chocolate, coconut cake, but it turned out to just be two large touristy women in mu-mus fighting over the last of the dessert bar in the buffet line across from the check-in desk. In the end the one in the pink ate the one in the yellow. I can still see it when I close my eyes.

So I checked in under the name "Underhill" and quickly found a way of disabling the lock on the "pay as you go" mini bar in my room (the best way is to actually drill through the back of the cabinet). After a few refreshing Tequila and Vodka shots I decided to check out the lay of the land and went exploring through downtown L.A.!

I was first mugged about 5 steps outside of my hotel, but I was expecting it to happen so it really wasn't all that bad. What was bad was when he made me squeal like a piggy in order to get my membership card to The House of Blues and Pain back. Then he took a few pictures to post on his "mentally raped tourists" website he has going on. I never got the address for it, and quite frankly I hope I never find it.

I was only mugged and sexually abused 5 more times before I made it to the nearest Carl's Jr. for dinner (two blocks away). I had made it back to Nirvana!! It totally blows knowing that I can't have that greasy, fried cooking that only Carl's Jr. does so well but only once a year. It is like a Chinese Water Torture device that tempts me with tasty lard droppings instead of mere agua! It's like Sisyphus, that Greek dude who came so close to pushing that boulder up the mountain only to have it fall and crush him like a wet toad near the very pinnacle of his achievement! It's like your momma when she keeps coming over to my house for some cheap, yet very fulfilling, luvin' every night despite the fact that I'm not into large, ugly women with Hitler mustaches anymore!

Back at CJ's I chowed down on a Super Sourdough Bacon Cheeseburger Supreme Value Meal and decided that I needed to see the under belly of the town and paint it blood red again. It'd been a full year since my last visit and it looked as if Los Angeles had finally recovered from the experience (though technically it didn't take much for the city to heal as all I really did last year was get sick and hug the toilet for 4 days while my innards ruptured and knitted themselves back together again over and over after I ate that ham sandwich I found in the alley behind the convention center that wasn't really ham.... or a sandwich). The first thing I did was hit Whore-lywood.

Marking one's territory is what being a man is all about. While other losers and punks either urinate on buildings or spraypaint on a wall that they get lots of tail, I prefer to leave something behind that you can see from space. While my "Hollywood prank" may not rank up there with my "nipples on the Statue of Liberty" gag or the painting I did at Mt. Rushmore of Billy Clinton trying to stick his tongue in Lincoln's ear, it'll take forever for them to clean it up and it will probably scar the ecosystem and all the wild bunny rabbits for years to come.

How much attention does the Rossman need?  This much, ya whore!!

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