It was boys night out and my car was filled with testosterone. Driving down the hill, away from my house leads us right past the famed Chateau Marmont and on this particular night, out in front of famed hotel is none other than Famke Janssen and she's looking as gorgeous as ever.
Our glee was suspended only for a moment when we noticed who she was with. Some Eastside "artist" with George Michael facial hair and skinny jeans who, at 10:30 at night, was riding a bicycle with a basket, and making Famke run next to him.
It was too much for us to comprehend and so Brett Battenberg (Facebook him and give him shit) rolled down the window and started yelling, in a not-so-nice voice:
"Get in the basket! Get in the basket! Get in the basket!"
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