PR (Punch Report): Now THIS is getting rejected!

?Wow, my face really hurts,? I thought to myself. The sun was pouring into my bedroom causing the temperature to approach what felt like 220 degrees Fahrenheit. As the heat reached the point of unbearable I was ripped from my drunken coma, a dirty-sweaty mess.

I took note of the blood on my sheets, and examined my naked flesh to determine whether the injury was serious. A quick glance told me that it sprang from my elbow, and death was not imminent. I asked myself that same clich?d question that people who lack shame have been asking themselves since the dawn of time: ?What happened last night?? A grin spread across my swollen face as the previous night came into focus.

How did I end up like this you ask? I suppose you could attribute it to a healthy mix of Jack Daniels, bravado, and some misplaced good intentions. Oh yea ? and a sucker punch.

Rewind to a standard Tuesday night ? karaoke, drinks, and typical debauchery with the boys. We were sonn-ing team after team of college undergrads on the beer pong table, and the ladies were lovin? it. Josh, Ryan, and I rotate between kicking college kids? asses in pong, and mackin? girls.

?Yo, right behind you three cute girls with a dude.? Ryan?s gaze was like that of a hungry hyena on the savannah. I followed it to where he was indicating. He was absolutely right. Well almost. It was two cuties and a possible ?maybe.? It was time for fun.

?Got it.? I turned around and put my shoulder square into this poor bastard?s chest. He was in for it. ?My bad bro, how?s your night going?? I look up at his face and realize that not only did I grow up with this guy, he still owed me $3.75 for some hotdogs I bought him when we were 10 years old. I figured I?d let the cash slide. As it was, his 3 girls for my $3.75 seemed fair enough. I began to chat him up while my friends ninja-ed in on the ladies. ?So, blah-blah-blah. What are you?blah?up to now?blah??

After a few minutes the skull-numbing question and answer session that is otherwise known as ?catching up? we were back up on the beer pong. I chat up the girls while my friends splash cups. The Jack Daniels was flowing heavily. I grabbed the number of the two cuties to throw into the old Roladex while my debtor stood by glassy eyed trying to make sense of what was going on right in front of his face.

I looked at him, and my glance said it all, ?What do you expect? This happens ALL the time.? The girls eventually made their way back to their dorm and he very well may have me vaporized on the spot from what I can recollect.

So far, this night was going precisely according to plan. As we wandered out of the bar, I bumped into my hilarious Israeli real estate broker and stopped to shoot the shit as Ryan disappeared into a pizza spot. My broker proceeded to give me the rundown on what very well may have been every single girl he has ever slept with. When his list ran out we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways.

Ryan finally emerged from the pizza place.

?Yo! There is a cute blonde chick in there with some guy ? not her boyfriend ? and she?s RECEPTIVE! I couldn?t do it but maybe you?ll have better luck.?

?Yes,? I said to myself, ?I WILL have better luck.? Where this thought originated is beyond me, but nevertheless I darted around the corner and strutted right up to where this guy is attempting to engage her in some moronic conversation ? they must have been friends.

?Hey! You?re cute and I had to come over and meet you.? In my mind, I was as smooth as silk. In reality, I?m sure I sounded like the drunkest meat-stick you have ever met ? true Jersey Shore style.

?Oh, hey?? she smiled as she giggled to herself in a state of flattery. Whatever it was about me at that point in time that flattered her is truly beyond me.

?What?s with this pizza? I like pepperoni, and I see that slice you?re holding is sausage?we?re already off to a bad start,? I said as I cracked a grin.

She giggled. I realized I had a live one here. This night was too good to be true.