I go into a Wal-Mart-like establishment with a winning lottery ticket, and try to cash it.

The clerk forgot how to read numbers. I won $451.00, but she handed me back the ticket and two dollars.

I then find myself in an old lady's house, putting stamps on invitations to a town festival of some sort.

"What state are we in again?"

"Kentucky, dear."

So I found out I was in Kentucky. The stamps were 34 cents, and had a picture of Melissa Etheridge on them. I panic because we've already mailed out a ton of stuff, and the going rate for a first-class letter is obviously 37 cents.

I think to myself: "This is Kentucky, no one will care."

I find myself in a bowling alley.

It gets hazy from there.