Making Out with Fat Chicks and Damage Control
by MATT SAVAGE
I wake up from a sound slumber, fully clothed, at 10 o’clock in the morning with a pounding hangover.
“Ugghhhh, what happened last night,” I mutter to myself.
As the fragmented pieces of the night begin to assemble into a somewhat hazy picture, the taste of disgust begins to find it’s way to the back of my mouth. Oh dear god… what did I do?
The last thing I remember, I was standing in the middle of my most frequented bar, the place where I have home field advantage, where all my friends and neighborhood aristocrats hang out, embracing a rather tubby fat girl in full tongue-down mode…
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