A Recipie for Disaster

Ingredients:
1 obsessively moronic personality
1 golf course owned by you and your family
20 beers of choice (Old Syle preferred)
1 decent steakhouse
1 buddy's house suitable for sleeping
2 large dogs (angry preferred)
1 outfit (navy Grateful Dead t-shirt and light khaki shorts)

1. Walk out of your apartment wearing above-referenced clothes, opting to choose not to wear underwear.

2. Get really drunk with friends at your golf course all afternoon.

3. Continue drinking at a steakhouse near the course.

4. Pass out on your buddy's couch.

5. Get awoken repeatedly by your buddy's dogs who, for whatever reason, have declared war on any and all males.

6. Spend a small portion of the following day at the course with a slight case of sleep depravity and massive Old Style shits.

7. Upon arrival at your apartment, look like a homeless man with a wrinkled, dog-haired shirt, greasy-slick hair, and visibly poo stained shorts.

Serves one.

Mix-and-match details to (bad) taste.