It was a dark and stormy night...stormy that is, because I'd been to the RATT concert, and then hit up the local late-night taco-stand. Followed by ice-cream. Followed by some nachos. And someone had to clean up that pizza when I got home - at 4:40 AM.
So yeah, my stomach was stormy, lurching like a fishing boat in a typhoon. And that's when he hit me. The Hurling Bandit. Most of us know this guy - he's the one who wakes you up in the middle of the night, mouth filling with...uh, "lubrication," and you run to the toilet. But the bathroom was occupied.
Yeah. Someone else was in there.
So, I panicked. I ran to the kitchen, but the dishes were piled high, I looked for the garbage can. No where to be seen. So, I did what any proud, dignified person would do in this situation. I puked on myself. That's right. I was now wearing my evening of fun all over myself.
So, when I see a Yak Sak bag, I'm like, "Yes, please." I keep them next to my bed now. If only I'd had it back on the night of the Hurling Bandit, then maybe my RATT t-shirt would still be in my wardrobe.