Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Oy Vey, Cliche!*

*I'm not Jewish.

I took a dude home from a bar last friday night and can't remember his name. This would be understandable if, say, we drunkenly had sex and he left in the middle of the night or early hours of the morning.

Instead we stayed up past dawn talking, passed out, and he spent the day at my house on saturday, drinking, talking, and watching hours of Kentucky Derby footage. (We were rooting for Noble's Promise).

Yeah. I'm pretty sure it's Paul.

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