Last night, I got tremendously sick from playing solo games of ten cup beer pong. I ended up decorating the hallway my friends live on with my lunch.
A shy girl in an improv group walks up to me as I'm kneeling in front of her bathroom, wiping dry chunks of pineapple pizza I ate yesterday out of the carpet with wadded up balls of paper towel.
"This is really ironic," she says, "because like three weeks ago, I had a really intense sex dream about you. Oh, well."
She smiles, and walks away.
Oof. I thought you weren't supposed to kick a man when he's down.