Drunk Ass

This ass is a delight, in installments, with consequences. The first hour is charm, wit, and the best version of the night anyone has had in months. Somewhere around the third round, the plot thickens. By closing time they have made a lifelong friend, lost a single shoe, proposed a toast that made a stranger weep, and generated roughly four stories that will be recited at their wedding. They regret nothing, largely because they remember about sixty percent of it. A genuinely good time wearing a warning label, arriving as a party and departing as an anecdote, and the group would not trade one gloriously questionable minute of the whole affair.