Woke up. We were out of it. We got ready and tried to figure out where to eat. Jason wanted a burger. In ‘n’ Out doesn’t sound as exciting when it’s not two states away. But that’s a moot point, because we went to Red Robin, which isn’t exactly thrilling itself. It did the trick though. We all got the Rookie Magic shake (aka Oreo shake), unlike this one time when I was with Eduardo, Louie, and Andrew. See, they all got chocolate shakes, but then I looked our waiter dead in the eye and said, “I want the Rookie Magic.”

The burger, shake, fries, and spinach dip made for a filling meal. While making our way through the mall, we saw this kid that either had mad game or was just a little too old to be holding his (hot) mom’s hand. Other than that, it was uneventful, but maybe it’s because we were so focused on just lifting one foot and placing it in front of the other. It felt like nap time.

But guess what it was golf time. Can’t remember whose idea it was, but we drove to the driving range. None of us had touched a golf club in at least a couple of years. We got our 6-irons, filled our buckets with golf balls, and started swinging. I wasn’t in college yet the last time (which was also the first time) I was at a driving range. I didn’t do so hot then. And the trend continued. After hitting a dozen balls less than a dozen yards, the frustration set in. So I stopped and watched to see how the hell to do it. I sort of got the hang of it, then it started to get good to me. We recorded ourselves and some parts are awesome because it looks like I’m hitting the balls into the stratosphere. I’m not gonna lie, I’ve watched these way too many times while smiling nodding to myself.

We blistered our hands, then pounded some energy drinks in the bar, where I’m pretty sure Wally said “Can I get a hyphy?” for the first time in his life. We stopped by Blockbuster in search of Face/Off, but then I remembered I had it at home. We listened to this Adam Carolla & Bill Simmons podcast reviewing Face/Off, then we watched Face/Off. More entertaining than it sounds. Those energy drinks didn’t work, because it really was nap time. Our sleep pattern was messed up at this point.

We woke up and headed to South First Billiards. Fanime was at the convention center downtown, and it was getting out for the night I think. There were a bunch of people getting picked up by their parents in front of the Hilton. But some were roaming around the surrounding streets. We saw a cop in SWAT gear posted up at a street corner while we were waiting to cross the street. I was wondering if all these anime fans get rowdy or something, but he wasn’t posted up, he crossed with us when the crosswalk light turned green. He wasn’t a cop at all, just some dude in costume. (Which reminds me of that Chappelle stand-up, “Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa! Just because I’m dressed this way does not make me a whore!”) There’s a lot of cosplaying going on. And by a lot I mean more people were dressed up than not, so it felt like we were in some kind of pseudo anime world.

South First Billiards has 20-30 tables and a lounge area that nobody uses, so it also has a lonely DJ. Jason was appalled with the price of pitchers. Nothing extraordinary happened. Just a lot of pool. And one game Wally hit the 8-ball in for the win, but he called the pocket while me and Jason were talking and most likely staring at one of the waitresses. Anyway, there was a dispute about who actually won, but we settled it like adults—by not talking for an hour. Then we hugged, made up, the place closed, and we tried to find a Carl’s Jr.

We follow my GPS to what seemed like the bad side of town. I’m not really suspicious until we get to the drive-thru line. This guy materializes from the bushes and asks us for change. Then he walks to the parking lot and disappears again. Jason gets onion rings and me and Wally split a Six-dollar western cheeseburger. Pretty good. The onion rings, though, let me tell you about them. They smell good. That’s all I can say because as I turn to face Jason, about to ask if I can try one, I hear him say “Oh man those were so good!” Then we pass out at home.

Woke up. Jason was still at work. Wally looked like he’d probably sleep all day if nobody bothered him. So I made my way to Jason’s room to try to sleep on an actual bed, but instead I just listened to that Bill Simmons’s podcast with Chuck Klosterman. Then Wally woke up and Jason came home. We played guitar and watched Starcraft videos while each of us showered and powdered our noses. Then we were on our way.

We met up with Wally’s cousin Laura and hit Sushiya, where we ordered sort of too much sushi. And some sake. Jason and Laura both drove so the party invitation list looked like this: Ces, Wally, sake jug. This was basically the beginning of undoing a month’s worth of workouts in a single weekend. We never made a verbal agreement, it just happened, but at each meal we challenged ourselves to eat more calories than the last. And we hit a home run every time we stepped up to the plate (no pun intended).

Wally picked up his paycheck and we stopped at the bank. It’s inside an Albertson’s so we pounded some energy drinks. One last stop at Wally’s house and we were off to Los Angeles. Make no mistake, when people think of California, they’re thinking of southern California. I think it’s the palm trees.

All I could really think of in the car were the lyrics to Murs “L.A.” Or I guess I should say I couldn’t think of them, which is why I couldn’t-stop-wouldn’t-stop. We saw a highway patrol car on the side of the road. Then we saw that one of them had a pistol out and arms raised. Then we saw a guy come out of the bushes looking like he just got caught by the police (think Fred Durst type, except homeless-er). Straight out of a boring segment of COPS.

We parked and did a little speed walking to the will-call area, focused. But not too focused to ignore twenty guys with cameras aimed at one of the entryways yelling “Hi Paula!” Abdul. She waved at us, and Jason got a pretty clear video of it:

We were slightly star struck, but we made our way to ticketing. I sort of didn’t tell the guys that I forgot to print the ticketmaster e-mail, so I was sort of nervous because I couldn’t remember if I needed it or not. I gave the lady my license and credit card then she told me to hold on. This is where I got sort of nervous again. I imagined her saying, “Oh you don’t have tickets.” or “Oh your tickets were for game 3.” Or her just not coming back at all. Sort of like the Beyond Belief episode where they stuff the kid in the closet and then they open it and he’s not there.

We finally got inside the arena. And everyone looked pissed at us for making them stand up in the aisle so we could get to our seats. ‘Scuse me, ’scuse me, ’scuse me, ’scuse me, ’scuse me, ’scuse me. I looked at the game clock and figured out why they were irritated. We sat down, the horn sounded, and everyone else stood up, end of the first quarter. “Couldn’t these dumbasses wait ten seconds?” That was just a guess of their thoughts, but I bet it’s close.

The jumbotron was worth watching during timeouts, because they could always just show some random celebrity in the arena to get the crowd going. We saw Denzel and Jack. They also did the kiss camera. And I think everyone was waiting for the same thing I was waiting for, because the arena erupted when they showed David Beckham. And I think they usually show a clip from Rocky before the fourth quarter, but this time they showed Sly in the arena after the clip and the crowd went nuts.

At halftime we saw a guy rim out trying to win $260,000. It’s odd to think that one second he’s thinking of what kind of car to buy with 260,000 bucks without blowing all of it and the next second he’s thinking of probably nothing except that life sucks. And also the Jabbawockeez performed. I’m not gonna lie, when we saw the white masks on the big screen, we got pretty geeked. Kind of a nice surprise.

The game was a blowout. There’s not too much to say. They love Trevor Ariza—the whole hometown kid thing. And the crowd gets amped for those free tacos, though nobody seemed to realize that we already won them. (Spurs only had to score fewer than 100, but most people seemed to think that L.A. had to score more than 100 also.) To me, it always seems like Lamar Odom could score at will if he weren’t off by just that much. The people sitting around us weren’t too fond of Luke Walton and would jump on every mistake Pau made. But man do they love Kobe Bryant. When he stepped to the line, you better believe I chanted MVP as if the bandwagon’s wheels were coming off and only my screams could ratchet them back on. Overall, it was a fun time and definitely worth it.

We got souvenirs and took our pictures outside of Staples Center. Then it was off to get some food. I guess I talked enough about Roscoe’s previously. Bottom line: it’s pretty good—not for dieters. We went to the Hollywood one though; I’m pretty sure the songs are talking about the Inglewood location. I’m mostly guessing based on the songs and the movie The Wood.

The drive from Los Angeles to San Jose is long. About as long as you’d probably want to drive alone. I wasn’t alone so that’s another guess. We stopped for gas once to fill up and use the restroom. I was washing my hands when Wally came in, followed by the four extreme dudes straight out of Harold and Kumar and blazed out of their minds. I’m gonna paraphrase what Wally told me happened after I exited the bathroom.

So I’m peeing right? And there’s a guy standing at the sink waiting to use the urinal next and he says to me, “Dude… where are we?” And I say I’m not sure man. And he says, “Me either man. Where are we?” And I go to wash my hands in the sink except it turns out the guy wasn’t just standing there waiting, he was peeing in the sink. Time to get outta there.

We passed through what seemed like an hour’s worth of cow farms. And toward the end of the drive we passed through Gilroy, which is known for its garlic. And a garlic processing plant smells like garlic. Which smells better than hundreds of cows but not by much. Finally, we got to my place, fixed the beds, and that was my Friday.

Wow that picture of Wally got lost in space or something, because I sent it out on Friday and was wondering why it never showed up. Better late than never!

Went with my mentor aka P-Mac (I’ve told him that I have a site where I just talk smack about all my coworkers and use indistinct names like “P” and “B”) to watch Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. Then he dropped me off at San Jose International Airport.

Every flight was delayed. The hills of one of the valleys were on fire, so that might’ve been the cause. People were pissed. I’m with the airlines when they say safety first. And if you actually have to be somewhere when your plane lands to the point that you’re glaring at everyone that walks by, you probably should’ve gotten an earlier flight. After my experience trying to get to Hawaii, I think I have a higher tolerance for airport rage.

Before our plane boarded, a flight to Las Vegas was using the same gate. Before they closed the plane doors, the attendant made one last will call announcement (think Mexican accent) “Cortes, Jennifer Cortes? Nobody? Jennifer? Well Jennifer, no Vegas for you.”

I’ve never flown Southwest Airlines before, but I like it. People joke about the boarding system being a cattle call. You line up and board in order according to your boarding pass. Exactly—it’s basically the same as other airlines. I guess it would be a bummer to be the last few on the plane, but that usually just means you were late.

I’ve also never flown within one state before. It was fast. I was trying to finish Red Mars (the slowest book on the face of…Mars. ZING), but I read four pages, had my beverage, then decided to take a nap. I turned my light off, closed my eyes, then all the cabin lights came back on and they said we were landing.

Flying into San Diego is cool because you descend through what I believe is downtown. Anyway, there are buildings on either side of the plane, and it’d be cooler if I actually had a window seat. Our plan was for me to wear sort of OK clothes (aka not basketball shorts), so that Jason and Wally could scoop me up and we’d head straight out. Except I was late then they were late so we had forty minutes to kill. Where better than Dave & Buster’s! “Hey man I just landed in San Diego. Let’s go to the arcade!” It’s better than it sounds, you gotta trust me.

It’s basically packed with a bunch of asian guys and their girlfriends. So there are a lot of girls. But there are a LOT of dudes. I lied, it’s not better than it sounds. But it was a lot better than trying to find some club, then trying to find parking, then standing in line talking about all the girls we’d pull, then dancing with each other in a 3-person circle for ten minutes before it closed. We ate at Denny’s then headed to Jason’s house. Jason had to wake up at 4:30 so me and Wally slept in a different room. Just like we did driving to San Jose the day after, we burned the midnight oil talking about our feelings.

And that was my Thursday.

Here’s Paul’s national TV appearance.

Bill Simmons with Chuck Klosterman (Links directly to an mp3 file). Klosterman is in Germany. It’s an hour-long, so I don’t expect anyone to listen to the entire thing that hasn’t already. There’s a fairly interesting discussion near the end (starting around 40:51) when Simmons asks Klosterman about Kobe Bryant. For quicker absorption, I transcribed that part the best I could:

Klosterman: It’s kind of paradoxical, but he’s the most successful tragic figure I could think of. He’s won all these championships, he’s won the MVP, he’s really been the best player in the NBA for the last five years. But he seems like a kind of confused person who sort of struggles with his own identity and I don’t think he gets any satisfaction from the success that he has. And there’s something about somebody who’s so good at something, you know, not just among the best, but the best at something.

Right now, on the face of the planet, he’s probably the best basketball player there is. And he’s not any more satisfied with his life than not just an average player, but a guy who installs air conditioners, or a guy who sells Fords, or a woman who works as a receptionist at a law office in Omaha. He just sort of epitomizes that happiness has nothing to do with the context of your life.

Simmons: See, I knew you’d come up with an interesting take. My theory on Kobe is that he’s just had a weird life. He lived in Italy with his dad as a professional basketball star there, and then he comes back, he’s in a Philadelphia high school, then he’s in the NBA. And that’s who became, is this guy who really had no foundation for anything, so like you said, I think really a lot of the times he’s playing the part in stuff. Like, you know, he does the Ashton Martin commercial not because it was his idea but because it sounded like something a cool person would do.

Klosterman: He would so love to be Gilbert Areas in a way. He would so love the idea that he could do something that people would perceive as likable. And I think he just can’t understand why. Even when he looks back at his legal problems, or he looks back at the way people perceive Shaq compared to him, I think it’s just confounding to him because his perspective is so skewed.

Speaking of Kobe commercials, here’s one with snakes and the Jackass crew.

That last post makes it seem like we were 10 feet away from Paula in our seats. Not the case, we saw her while we were making our way to the will-call line. My phone battery died during the game so here’s an update. Before the red-eye drive back we stopped in Hollywood and ate at Roscoe’s House of Chicken ‘n’ Waffles. Jason and Wally asked where I heard of the place, and I said “some rap songs”.

“Going back to Cali” - Notorious B.I.G.

Linens and things, I begin things People start to flash, 818’s, 213’s 313’s, B.I.G. Frequently floss hoes at Roscoe’s

“Hustler Remix (Featuring John Cena)” - Murs

I hustle like the homey Fo-Five, rest in peace While you bark a lot about your glock, never had to walk the walk You ain’t a gangster homeboy, just a dude who likes to talk a lot That’s why you got your chain snatched in a Roscoe’s parking lot

“Murda” - The Game

Today there been 10 murders in South Central alone. The boys in the hood said Cube been gone too long. So take my advice, I’m talkin’ to all rappers, When you eat a Roscoe’s watch out for the chain snatchers.

Crime: half-chicken dark meat fried and topped with gravy, 2 waffles with butter and syrup, and mac & cheese. Punishment: 72-mile bear crawl. It was awesome, even though our waitress brought our food out and decided it’d be a good time to go home. Probably one of the more memorably enjoyable meals of my life. Jason passed out and there’s basically nothing to see between L.A. and San Jose, so Wally and I burned the midnight oil talking about our feelings. We’re gonna go hunting and talking about monster trucks today to compensate.

Dan’s in New York right now. Us each being in one of two largest cities in the U.S. Might never happen again.

El dot ay dot Californ-I-a hot days got shades something something. I butchered those Murs lyrics pretty bad. Anyway, we’re in L.A!

Previously: 1st round , 2nd round

West finals LA over San Antonio (6)

East finals Boston over Detroit (7)

Finals LA over Boston (6)