Ballistic Forensics and Brothel-Themed Hotels

Just rolled back into town from DC, where I crammed for a ballistic forensic exam with none other than Julia Lewis Dreyfus.

Hopped on the wrong train, which was packed with dudes heading to a Yellow Stone Broadway show.

Jumped off that train to find the exam room express. Spotted Julia, who promptly called me an asshole for missing the exam. In a fit of annoyance, I doused her with hand sanitizer and unleashed a colorful tirade of profanities at her.

Secured a hotel room (WITHOUT Julia) that looked like it was straight out of an old-timey brothel. My dogs were there, and they were starving.

The concierge mentioned the dog food train was on the fritz. What exactly is a dog food train????

Bill waltzed in with Yellow Stone theatre tickets. (Really???) I had to break it to him that we couldn't go because the pups were famished.

He claimed Julia would drive us. So, I held Julia hostage at hand sanitizer spray point and demanded a ride to fetch some dog chow.

Good Morning!