Last night, after five or six drinks, Ben talked me into jumping on stage to dance with Jenny and him by promising to buy me a rug I've had my eye on at Ikea. Well, being the materialistic whore I am, I finally relented and as I was climbing up, my old, comfy, favorite grey pants ripped from the zipper, down the crotch, all the way to my knee. After a couple of minutes I told Ben and Jenny, who cracked up. The stranger next to us noticed, laughed hysterically and ... within seconds, produced a camera! Bastard.
At least I have my rug.