You know, it was embarrassing enough to have thrown up on her floor. And more still to have the shirt returned to me two months later, in front of friends who knew not of The Tales of Kearney, and demanded knowledge on the subject. And even more embarrassing to run into one of her roommates at a New Years party, and not remember her because of a drunken stupor having taken my memory of that fateful evening.
Yep, all that is bad enough. They didn't have to go erect a damn monument to it.
September 13, 2003, A day which shall live in infamy