No, you didn’t kill a stripper. There’d be blood on you.
Maybe you just did a bit of freelance waitressing? Count the bills and you’ll know if you were any good at it.
Ha ha. Why do I write threads like this? On the bright side, my ability to string together semi-coherent thoughts while under the direction of Jameson encourages me to go back to saucing on the job. Might be me hate the whore in contracts just a little bit less. Seriously now, I may have eaten the stripper (I was probably hungry, considering I didn’t eat much Friday, which I reckon explains a lot), but most likely, that was change given to me from drinks I’d ordered. I noticed the money I took out of the ATM turned into a small wad of $1 bills. Not sure why one was in my shirt, thought.
I wouldn’t leave behind any witnesses.
You wouldn’t believe how attractive I am to guys who are completely hammered at 1:00am.
I sincerely hope not. I think it was like $11, or something.
Anyway, no kissing booths (that I’m aware of), no spikes, just me with money to burn, nowhere to be, extreme thirst, and an Irish drinking buddy. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to do away with this mysterious bracelet that for some reason has the word “peaches” inscribed on it.
I want to party with you, cowboy.
“And that… David Caruso Sunglass fwip…is what we’ll find out.”
cue Who song
I think you may have a drinking problem.
I wish I were young and carefree again. Even for just one last time.
Your problem is not figuring out where the dollar bills came from, your problem is that you had a blackout.
I’m really not that much fun.
I’m pretty good at it.
Ahh, the well-known “2 at 10, 10 at 2” phenomenon eh? 
If all these dollar bills came from drink change, does that mean you didn’t tip yer bartender? *That *might explain why that last hour is a blank… 
Are there a bunch of cars you don’t recognize in your driveway? Maybe you were the valet.
I think she sounds rather gifted at it.
Hey, I like MenOldLady, but when your friends drink too much, there’s only one thing you can do.
Go through their pockets for loose change.
There are plenty of ways to kill a stripper without getting any blood on your person.
Yeah. She should probably keep practising till she can drink without forgetting stuff.
No your not. Seriously.
Dude, sometimes grown ups decide they don’t care what happens to their pants or dignity, and decide to get really, really drunk. Their beverage need not be spiked in order to result in a blackout. A fistful of money, and complete lack of shame will be plenty.
Anyway, I didn’t actually do anything. According to somewhat reliable sources, at some point, I decided feigning composure wasn’t worth the effort, and went home. I’m boring now.
In all seriousness, blackouts are a bad sign and not something to laugh off - but you know that already.
Tell me about it. I woke up a few Sundays ago to find my boyfriend (he’d been out with the boys the night before) slumped over the couch, snoring, with his pants around his ankles. I convinced him to go to bed eventually, but he woke up later that day with no recollection of falling asleep on the sofa half naked. I’m pretty sure it was a result of good old-fashioned scotch rather than anyone looking to take advantage of his ass. Though he does have a nice ass.
I can’t wait till it’s warm enough to go out without pants. Makes for easier drunken partying AND faster pooping.