Coming Clean on 24, H and K, and Some Sweet Ass Fried Chicken

So before I go anywhere with this, I have a confession. When you guys read this article, I will still have not watched 24's first 4 hours.

I am embarassed, ashamed, sad, angry, confused. Somewhere, Cousin Awesome, J-Schubs, AFOMG, and the rest of the Blondie's crew is desperate to pass me the salt.

So I tried to be a good guy. We had a group of 10 out in LA for the weekend and everyone was going out to dinner. I thought I'd be a mature Sip and go to the dinner, and DVR 24.

Of course the DVR didn't work. This was just about the worst thing that could have ever happened to me. All I wanted to do was talk to people about 24. I received frantic texts and phone calls but all I could do was say, "I didn't see it, I gotta go." I was truly ashamed.

So anyway, I'm out at Sky Bar in LA last night. This is one of the swanky "spots" in LA. It was a nice time, saw a bunch of friends.

So when I get there I walk to our table (note: I think this is my first ever "getting a table") and who do I see? Harold, from "Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle". Just a typical night in Hollywood. I told my agent and close pal Zim to see if he could try and steal him as a client, and he said he would give it a shot.

So I walk past him again and who do I spot out of the corner of my eye, sitting at the table with him, a baseball cap covering his sweet Indian skin? None other than Kumar, from "Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle".

Harold and Kumar are role dogs.

To me, that's pretty damn sweet.

So we chilled with the dynamic duo throughout the course of the night. Contrary to popular belief, girls don't throw their under carriages at the likes of B-list movie stars.

But as you would imagine, Kumar is one cool cat. He is that cool Indian guy that every generic white kid would want as a friend. He is the real life Sippy to Harold, and for that I am somewhat jealous.

Our waitress, this sweet little biscuit named Jennie was the talk of the night. She was ridiculous and sweet and perfect. So somehow it slips that she is coming to San Francisco this week to which I respond, "I live there".

Smooth Sip.

So at the end of the night, she gives me a piece of paper with her phone number and e-mail. I feel like Jesus Shuttlesworth himself. It can't be this easy, can it?

So the next morning I throw out the, "do you like apples" routine from "Good Will Hunting", the tale of a young man torn between ihs childhood tomfoolery and his inescapable genius, to my pals Goat and Max.

Always worth a chuckle, but the response was kind of more depressing.

"She gave me her number, too," said Max, who also live in SF.

So I'm thinking either this lady has some kinky interests, or what's more likely, I'm not as cool as I thought I was.

Oh well.

I got over my insecurities with a trip to LA's wonderland, Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles.

For those of you asleep during Chris Tucker's rise to movie star status in the late 90's, this place is famous for its fried chicken, waffles and intense ghettoness.

Let's just say that when a bunch of skinny white kids rolled in there seven deep, I felt like we stood out, and man was it a weird feeling.

Nonetheless, the fried chicken and waffles were strong to very strong.

So now you ask, what do 24, Harold and Kumar, and Fried Chicken have to do at all what the subject that this blog is supposedly dedicated to: Pro-Mets/Anti-Yankee baseball?

The answer is simple. Like loving the Mets and hating the Yankees, these three things are all really awesome.

Considering the big talk out of Shea is Ramon Castro's role on the club, I figured I'd drop some value stories. Maybe later in the week we'll discuss the possible acquisition of Jeff Weaver, but for now, that's just a lot of talk by a bunch of desperate fans

I remain super unemployed and am starting to expand my search. Who's got something for young Sip?

Let me know.

VCD,

SM