The Rossman's California Dreams and Adventures
(page 6: Deadly Restaurant..... Of DOOM!)

When we got back to the "pick up/drop off" lot Kuni and I found that good ol' Pepe was not waiting for us like we asked him to. Instead we got Pepe's replacement, Fasil (rhymes with "facil", the Spanish word for "easy".... which he was much to Kuni's pants-shitting delight). Despite his Spanish sounding name Fasil wasn't a commie bastard. He was from Tunisia and he was an asshole (and he smelled like one too). He wouldn't shut the fuck up and all he would talk about was how much better his "place of origin" was than the U.S. of A. (apparently the dust and sand filled plains of North Africa are the ideal place to raise a family... away from all the guns and food and medication that bad Americans have to deal with). Those are always fightin' words to this here Rossman, but he calmed me down by playing some groovy chant-muzak like those natives in Close Encounters of the Third Kind when they perform the tune that the "Sun" taught them the night before.

I was busy jamming with the wailing tunes until I noticed that Fasil (that bad, bad man) was taking us back to Universal City the long way, through Mexico. He said it was more scenic and a better trip for the confused souls of Western Man, but it sure as hell wasn't worth the $342 in fares (and 2 gas station fill ups) that it cost. When we eventually got back to the hotel I drew a mustache on him like Dick Dastardly from Wacky Races with a permanent marker. I thought that it would make him unattractive in the eyes of females and thus punish him more than he hurt my wallet. Unfortunately Kuni told me that it had the opposite effect on him and made him "swoon like a sex-toy mother bitch".

Soooooooo, we quickly headed over to Bucca di Beppo for some dinner. Last year I had a great time at the Beppo. I ended up sitting with a computer graphics company that was having a special dinner out for all the under appreciated CGI artists in their employment (I so understood their plight). They were cool and they kept telling me all the rugged Hollywood secrets and stuff that they had to cover up or work with in their field (like the fact that a certain Antonio "trying to cover his gay ass by marrying the hideous Melanie" B. is totally bald and they had to charge $20million to put computer generated hair on him in his latest movie). At the end of the huge meal I was also able to sneak my bill into their tab (saved me around $70). This time, unfortunately, I only had Kuni with me as company. Because of that I didn't even get a cute waitress.

After continually begging for Kobe Masahiko to cook his "Italy spaghetti foods" personally he was finally beaten down by a busboy and forced to color in his placemat in silence. I gave that busboy a huge tip and charged everything to Kuni's Master Card (which I slipped out of his wallet when he was busy trying to dance with the kitchen staff to the silent music in his mind). Well, of course it was declined (it always is after his huge pornography shopping sprees) and we were both forced to wash dishes for the rest of the night. At least until my semi-retarded friend kept breaking them while trying to drill a hole in some in order to "have the sex with hard plates experience". They put curses on us, spit on us and demanded that we never have any children. I promised them that there was no way in hell I'd ever have a child with Kuni, and they kicked us out and threw us into some dumpsters (just for the feeling of superiority I'm guessing).

Spreading the word of CARL'S JR.

In order to try and make nice-nice with the chefs, I decided to bless them by allowing them to pose with me and be immortalized on my site.

Despite the fact that my veal was tasty, tender and nummy, I thought that these two culinary masters of world cuisine could exploit a few pointers from the ever impressive Carl's Jr. I suggested that they use a "special sauce" for all their entrees in the future along with french fries on the side of any order with meat. Shakes (vanilla, chocolate and strawberry) are a necessity too, along with Double Bacon Cheeseburgers and Fish Fillet sandwiches for Catholics in Lent. And one can never go wrong with boiling hot apple pies filled with lava for dessert. The last proposal I fed them was the most important yet also the most overlooked in the "fancy dining experience": A playland of some sort with lots of slides and a ball room. Ball rooms kick ass.

We hit Haagen Dazs for some chocolate chip cookie dough conage (two scoops for the price of one! Whoo-hoo!!) and then went back to our room to catch a new Sopranos. At around midnight, just for fun, I blindfolded Kuni and threw him out of the window and into the pool a few dozen stories below just like Mel Gibson and Joe Pesci in Lethal Weapon 2. Then I switched the room number on the door with the neighbor's and fell asleep while listening to my bastard friend argue with some irate and large sounding dude in the hallway about how he should "not be in the Kuni's room, fucking shit fuck!!" I needed my rest. For the next morning would begin my official E3 Adventure Day.

That night I had some pretty funky dreamage going on. It all started out with me trying to climb these two huge mountain peaks, and then I slid down into this deep and wet valley filled with bushes. I traveled down a deep and wild river that forged through a canyon and then I found some kind of sacred mound that the natives worshiped as a deity of some kind. For some reason I polished the mound until it was shiny and a genie popped out and granted me my wish of happiness. Then Count Dracula came along and sucked me dry.... Man, I wish I took "Psychology 452: Dream Therapy" back in school. I stink like a midget clown after a bender at interpreting these things. He sucked, but I was not about to find out if he swallowed

You can do it (Don't piss me off now! It's only just begun!!)
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