Yo. It's happened to the best of us.
Perhaps it was a once-upon-a-tumbler, that time your bearded friend "Morgan El Capitan" blew into town on his olde-timey pirate ship, three-sheets to the preverbial wind and ready to hornswaggle you out for a night at the local cantina to sing sea shanties and reflect on better, frillier times…
Then there was that moment, stumbling back to your apartment when you lost your footing and fell into El Capitan. Hands on your shoulders, he steadied you and leaning into him, you noticed something was suddenly different. You found yourself asking: Is that a cod piece in your underpants or are you just happy to see me?
And suddenly you were both laughing – not just regular, what-kind-of-self-respecting-man-makes-that-kind-of-terrible-terrible-joke laughs, but Caribbean-infused spicy laughs. And when you looked up, all you could see was this staring longingly back at you:
Of course you kissed him. Passionately.
The last thing you remember is his cape getting caught in your teeth and the light from the full moon flashing across your housekeys…
…the next morning, you woke up with this laying next to you in bed:
<blood curdling scream>
It turns out that your old friend was wearing a codpiece…and a fake wig and fake facial hair…and that he wasn't even a captain, but actually that incorrigible Celine Dion up to her tricksie ways once again.
What pisses me off: Celine Dion. But also people who misrepresent themselves. Nobody likes mutton dressed as lamb. NOBODY.
Advice: Always look a gift horse in the mouth, especially if you suspect it's Celine Dion in costume.