We went into Scoops on Melrose to get, what I’ve been told, was some of the best ice cream in Los Angeles.
James ordered his 2nd red velvet meal of the afternoon, found a shady spot, and made a phone call to his mother back in New York. The only thing I could understand from the conversation was this:
“That was to work on a sleeve”
(mom on the other line)
“Well, its probably good that you don’t know what a sleeve is, then”
(mom responds with something)
“No, Mom. Its not like a Prince Albert.”