boo boo

chicken foot

people think they wanna talk to me but they are quite mistaken

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i was minding my own business trying out a new chicken place called RoRo’s in hollywood

its on sunset over by hollywood high.

google maps says its close to me but google maps be cray sometimes

but it was good.

tsar

dude comes in, he’s called ahead. he knows whats up.

they’re wrapping up his half chicken with extra garlic spread.

everyone in hollywoods gotta have a little cup of garlic spread

to compete against Zankou

and he asks me, so what are you Illuminati?

from hanging around girls ive learned the art of not saying jack

but saying everything with the all judgmental eyebrow.

Mason? Are you a Mason, he asks.

Syintologist? What are you?

http://instagr.am/p/UbeaU1IFcX/

Hungry, i say, and fiddle with my iphone.

he goes on, talking only to me, the only other person in old RoRos this chilly sunday afternoon.

The Illuminati are arrogant. Masons too. They run around looking down on everyone, he says.

some people you just let talk because soon theyre gonna call your number and you can go.

so sometimes you just let that baby cry and you nod and smile.

and think to yourself, maybe i am Illuminati.

but that sounds italian and i aint italian on even a good day.

cement

after he leaves and my chicken is ready the mexican guy running the register says

s’crazy eh?

i was all, its hollywood. thats why we live here.

but the dude goes, no, they news only talks about south central being crazy

never anywhere else.

and now two people in 2 minutes i want to disagree with but hey thats a nice bag of chicken

and rice, and hummus, and garlic paste, and a tiny side salad.

the news, i say to him, is actually based in hollywood.

and i speed away in my car.

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RoRos is good chicken. they take their time. they have pride.

whoever i got the tip from on Twitter, im grateful to.

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do we all have to act different

so as to never be mistaken as a perv or a nut or an illuminati?

we’re not even supposed to live this long.

thats the problem. when people died at 35 they didnt have time to tweet.

they didnt have time to be misunderstood.

you got married as soon as you knocked someone up. you raised that poor kid

and all of its brothers and sisters.

and then you died of something super lame like a mosquito bite.

people took care of business back then.

today we dwaddle and obsess and over analyze.

just bone and write. its way easier.

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ask jodie foster. for some reason she cant believe shes 50.

for some reason she feels like shes gotta be super protective of telling people who she kisses.

i wanna say jodie maybe 50 years ago or 30 years ago people cared.

and maybe like 1 per cent of people care today.

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but youre a famous superstar,

youre the diamond on the tip of the drill bit

that cuts through to the other side.

didnt they tell you that in the gifting room?