Well… I am bound to have starred at least one story. My college friends and I were at Bennigan's. I was in my high-low skirt with material-girl bustier, and lace-covered high heeled granny-boots. We were all having drinks. I was drinking hurricanes. Well into my fourth tall libation, we were all commenting on how the drinks didn't seem to be effecting me.

Then I had to pee.

I stood up and started across the restaurant toward the bathroom with the ladies at my table. As I'm walking, it's like a giant koosh-ball descending on my head in slow motion. Between the table and the bathroom door in sight, I became increasingly, sloppily drunk.

There was a tussle trying to keep me on my feet. A heel was broken to peels of raucous laughter cut off by wailing tears over my granny-boots.

There were strange, slurred and embarrassing to my friends mutterings from me.

There was a catastrophic wardrobe malfunction.