Scary Evening with the Fiddler

Last night, I met the Fiddler and the Hamsterfish at the Bulldog to watch the LSU game and have some drinks. LSU won. Yay!

I wasn't aware that the Hamsterfish was having problems with one of his fins, so when I grabbed it and he howled in pain, a high, shrill scream that only a Hamsterfish could make, I felt bad. There was no sand around, so I had to improvise, and buried my head in a bottle of Miller Lite.

Fiddler and I went to Harrah's. I won and the Fiddler lost, as usual. We were ordering shots of Jagermeister at the blackjack table. Yes, Jagermeister.

There was more, but I'm not sure I remember. Except for the part when I wake up at noon, at home (thankfully), still in my shoes from the night before. It hurts to even think about how I felt.