So the other day, I figured I'd take Dave out to my favorite hot spot: Bethesda, MD. It's pretty much my idea of what heaven would look like, if heaven were modeled after an urban piazza of sophistication and charm. Man, was I excited. I even planned out which karaoke joints we'd hit up first. I knew that all those people who pretend to be my friends in Bethesda would be really excited and jealous to see that I know Dave Grohl.

But then, just as I was suiting up in my awesome Roger Daltry-styled jumpsuit, Dave showed up at my parents' house (where I currently live, at the age of about 32). The smile was instantly wiped off my face when I realized that he had brought a friend. And not just any friend, but a stupid DRUMMER friend. God, now my dreams of awesome karaoke were over. This douchebag would certainly Grohlopolize my friend in some lame conversation about drums, or being in the Foo Fighters or some bullshit.

Basically, I got really drunk and sang "Bohemian Rhapsody" over and over, and just pretended that stupid other drummer wasn't there. It worked pretty well.