No really. I swear it's true.
What's that? You didn't get my text? It said I spent three hours spent surrounded by guns and now I smell like Tommy Lasorda. I'll add that I laughed and cried and laughed. A lot.
Dude, I couldn't make this stuff up. This is way better than the naked hug with my doctor, too. I swear.
Today was the annual Police Recognition Luncheon. Tommy Lasorda was a surprise guest speaker. His stories about a few less than academic ball players were HI-larious. ("Saxie, what's today's soup?" "Of the Day.") Afterward, my friend Lisa and I got our picture taken with him. His cologne was awesome. We kissed him. Tommy Lasorda's cheek is soft and smooth. As Mad used to say, "dey nice." Speaking of which, it was my idea that we kiss him, but it was Lisa's decision to ask if we could fondle his cheeks. He did not decline. We stuck to the soft cheeks on his face.
I'd post the pic, except that I don't have it yet. Oh, and for some reason I asked my skinny friend Lisa to be in the shot with me. Why did I do that? The last time we had our photo taken together, my head appeared to be three times the size of hers.
Here's a quick summary of why I'm pretty sure I won't be posting the photo when I do receive it.