My head is splitting, and my mouth is sticky. Neal and Mollie are both deserate to cram some greasy food into their stomachs. Yes, we're hungover.

But damn, we had fun last night.

Neal cooked dinner. It was scrumptious. Shawn came over. We got all cuted up and then went to the bar across the street. After a couple of pitchers of Killians (ah, sweet Killians), we headed to the only bar in this town where you can dance after midnight.

Many drinks. Much shaking of the booty. Kept losing Neal. Vague memories of dancing to "YMCA".

Spinning Mollie around. Talking to tons of people. Surprisingly, no pool. Wearing Shawn's sunglasses.

And waking up with this horrible headache.

Must eat grease. I'll check in later.