Late last night after finishing off a Philly Cheese Stake w/ extra poppin' toppings, and a grape soda (no Coke) to wash it down, I get a strange phone call. I can't make out the persons voice but they're inviting me out to some studio in Manhattan, where Outkast is mixing down tracks for their lastest musical offering, and they need me...your boy...the Minority Report's opinion. So I stumble in the dark to get dressed and find a pen to write down the address, but was told don't worry a car would be sent for me...DOPE! When the car service arrives, Badu (?) is already in the car talking as if I'm her BFF, how she reads the blog EVERYDAY, and how she wrote a song titled the same name as the blog you're now reading. We make one pit stop to get Cheez Doodles and some (extreme) sour patch candy, when out the blue, Bilal jumps in to catch a ride with us (ummm maybe i was catching one with them lol!) We get to the studio in NYC record time, like the streets were empty or something. Once inside, freaking everybody's there! Sleepy Brown, Janelle Monae',Cee-Lo, ?uestlove, D'Angelo(!), Dave Chapelle, Raphael Saadiq, and Obama...yes that Obama! With some security (cause you know how these Hip-Hop affairs can get) passing out Coronas dude! Freaking Coronas! I excuse myself to run throw water on my face, in the restroom, and curse myself for forgetting my trusted camera. Yet some photog guy, in the bathroom says, he'll just e-mail me his professional shots (NO Homo). SWEET Mary, Joseph & Jesus! How and why is this happening to me? I thank him sincerely, and rush back to hear the tracks they're cueing up to play. That's when out the blue, dressed in an apron that reads "Kiss the Cook...Ass!" comes walking in, is my Moms!!! With a pot of steaming hot grits in her hand, mad I'm out late! I lose it, and just jump up out of my deep sleep. I laugh and shake me head like, "DAMN that was nutso!" I GOTTA stop munching before I go to bed man?!?