>Blame it on the a-a-a-alcohol


To the drunken guy who lost his shirt at the match last week,

When you staggered over to our aisle, beaming at everyone like a regular Mary Poppins and doling out hugs to random people, little did any of us dream that you would try to forcibly make out with the poor, unsuspecting sod sitting in the corner.

I hope that he didn’t hit you too hard. It’s bad enough to go home without the clothes you came in; I can’t even begin to imagine what it would be like to wake up without a few teeth.

Thank you for the, albeit slightly PG-13 entertainment, I hope you’re feeling better now Mr. Man.

Yours in sobriety,