We've all been there.
You're sitting there, all strung out and with your balls aching after a night with a couple of strippers from Detroit that's already fleeing from memory. Daydreaming about the lunch you're gonna have at TGI Friday's and trying not to pass out while listening to the son of one of this country's greatest civil rights leaders prattle on about something or other. Your head keeps bobbing uncontrollably and you keep getting flashes of Amber's tits in Panther's mouth; how her g-string was twisted in the back and reminded you of those corkscrew macaronis Mom used to make when you were a kid, right down to the bright yellow cheese. And then BAM! You nod off and it's all over national television.
We've all been there. We're only human.