Shreveported

This weekend, I took off on a trip to Shreveport, Louisiana with Danza and Diddy. How was it? Well, my memory is a little unreliable when it comes to that evening. If you're really curious, I suggest you ask the security staff of the El Dorado Casino; they're probably piecing together the security footage right now and scratching their heads.

All I know is this: when I woke up on Sunday morning, I found in my wallet enough money for a year's supply of Junior Mints. Either I won it or a crazed philanthropist got tired of me splitting 10s and handed me a wad of cash so I'd leave his table. Anything is possible here, and I wouldn't rule out a combo of the two.

I also had my meal of the year. No, it wasn't the shrimp, nachos, and omelette I had at our comped breakfast the next morning, although that did hit the spot. It was a little joint called the Village Grill. It was so good, the guy seated next to us made an elaborate marriage proposal to his girlfriend, causing the entire restaurant to erupt in applause, and I didn't know about any of this until the next morning. That's because I was weeping with joy over my salad and trying to commission an artist to sketch it in commemoration.

It was a good time. El Dorado has probably distributed our pictures to their roof snipers so we never make it inside again, but we still had that one night.