Whiskey. Dick.

Whiskey is the devil.  We all know that. Boozy encounters with chicks – those always end well, too. Especially when they’re friends.  Add in Vegas and a corporate expense account.  Shake well. Shit happens.But not in the way you might expect (based on your personal experiences on every other trip to Vegas ever).

Sometimes, all there is to confess after a Vegas road trip is the booze.  Just a couple of Gaelic Clusterfucks (Tullamore Dew/Harp) and a regular boilermaker. No hookers. No blow. No hookups. No shag disasters. No new LTRs/divorces. No Doug on the roof.

There is still no explanation for waking up alone but(t) naked. Or the other surprises. Just shut and be grateful the tale was met with “bemused and nonchalant,” rather than “mortified.”

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