I had a friend who swore off picking up women at bars because it kept getting him in trouble.

One night we went to see Peter Frampton play live at a club in Lubbock (yes, that Peter Frampton. He was almost bald by then). My buddy wore the ugliest shorts I've ever seen that night. I asked him why and he said, "So, if I get bombed out of my tree, no woman I try and pick up will go home with me".

Later, almost blind, stinking drunk, he was talking to a woman and was trying to pick her up. When she asked what his name was he looked her dead in the eyes, paused for a moment, and said, "Steve".

His name was not Steve.

Anyway . . .

noBody getting laid either.

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