Where the hell did this tattoo come from?
Where am I? Why am I awake at 5:30 in the morning on a Saturday? Why do I smell like an ashtray?
There’s a cat nuzzling my face and licking my forehead. That’s strange: I don’t think I own a cat.
Where is the bathroom? I AM GOING TO BE SICK.
The date on my phone says April 14. I have five messages that say “happy birthday” and “thanks for the pants party!” It’s my birthday? How did I get so sick on my birthday? And what the hell is a “pants party?”
Let’s see…red pashmina, “Hello My Name Is” stickers, three Jason Bay bobblehead dolls, and a digital camera. Maybe I should look at the photos. That’ll probably help me figure out what happened last night.
At least I woke up alone this morning.
Oh. They’re pierogies. Wait, PNC Park? That’s in Pittsburgh! How did I get to Pittsburgh?!
Eh. (Nice arms, though.)
Ugh, no wonder I feel so sick.
Wait, now I’m not in the stadium…I’m in a bar. I’m in a bar? Oh no. No no no. This is bad. I was in a bar before the game?! Here’s those girls again! Do I know them? I must not, because they’re wearing name tags. They look unhappy that I’m taking their photos.
I took a photo of a dude dancing badly in a t-shirt that says “the cream.” What the hell is “the cream?” He’s wearing a name tag too. All our name tags match. Should I know this guy Joe?
One more photo on the camera…I hope it’ll have a clue about who did this to me.
I look like I’m…having fun. Maybe I need to have pants parties (whatever they are) more often.