I never worry about running out of embarrassing anecdotes. Besides having plenty of my own, others are happy to share. Especially when the joke's on someone else.
As it happens, I know both the informant and the subject of the story I heard yesterday. Its authenticity has been verified, if somewhat reluctantly. The defense was simultaneously weak and compelling: "I was in college."
One bleary Saturday morning, after a night of carousing with friends, our heroine awakened, turned her head to the left, and saw a hand.
Her heart pounding as fast as her head, she frantically replayed the events of the prior evening. Who was I with? What happened those last couple of hours?
Steeling herself, she glanced to the right. Nobody there. She'd simply passed out with her arm behind her head, and her hand fell asleep.
As it happens, I know both the informant and the subject of the story I heard yesterday. Its authenticity has been verified, if somewhat reluctantly. The defense was simultaneously weak and compelling: "I was in college."
One bleary Saturday morning, after a night of carousing with friends, our heroine awakened, turned her head to the left, and saw a hand.
Her heart pounding as fast as her head, she frantically replayed the events of the prior evening. Who was I with? What happened those last couple of hours?
Steeling herself, she glanced to the right. Nobody there. She'd simply passed out with her arm behind her head, and her hand fell asleep.
As the informant observed: "It must have been a hell of a night if you couldn't recognize your own hand."
(Vidi)
2 comments:
I have always recognized my own limbs but have woken up with unidentified people in my bed but not recently...
Better a hand than a bird in your bush.
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