Here's what I did last weekend in Washington D.C.



I know the last time I did this, I said it would be the last, but you put some rum in me, stick your hand up my butt, and I'm your puppet. This time, the one with the hand up my butt was my friend Rick, who took this picture. Here is Rick taking a photo of himself right before he took the photo of me.



Just like last time, the cab driver got out and chased me. I ran like hell. I thought I lost him, but a bit after I stopped, this guy came up to me and said, "You run over my car?" I played dumb, but he wasn't buying it. He said, "Come on, I show you." I guess I left a footprint or maybe a little dent in his hood. So I said, "I'll look at it, but it wasn't me." Must have been someone else wearing incredibly white Adidas sneakers.

He also had a witness with him. So we all start walking back to the car, I let them walk in front of me and get ahead of me a little bit, then I turned around and ran. This time I was smart and ran up some side street. Then I hid behind a bush. Then Rick called me to ask me where I was, and apparently I said to him, "I can't tell you where I am."

I don't know why I did that. Either I didn't trust Rick and thought that he was working with the cab driver, or maybe I thought my phone was tapped by the FBI. I don't know. But anyway, I got away.

I think this time, though, was really my last. Really. Until the next time.