Yesterday, about lunch time (2:00 PM), James -- my colleague and good friend -- called me up and wanted me to come have a drink with him. We started off with the intention of just having a few dew-fresh pints and call it a night, but you know, plans like that will always fail. We ended up drinking non-stop until the football match between germany and spain was concluded, whereupon we decided to go clubbing!

To put that story short, me and James ended up with two british girls at an afterparty. Emma and... shit, I can't remember her name. It was something starting with M. Mercedes? I'm digressing. Emma and... Mercedes and me and James decided to rent a hotel room just for the sake of the breakfast, and this is where the hillarious part comes into the equation. James decides to check out, and I had to go the pharmacy to get some astma-medicine. When I'm back at the hotel room, James had conveniently checked himself out from the hotel, leaving me and the girls up in the room, all alone. So, as I was trying to gather my wits for a moment, one thought appeared in my head: I am alone in a hotel room with two goddamn nice girls. I promptly left. My big question to you, poor reader, is simply: what the heck is wrong with me!? Now, just to make matters even more unbelieveably silly, I managed to return my keycard to the receptionist and tell her that the room was empty. Poor girls. If I meet them again, I'm in for a slap, I presume.

And to you concerned lads and lasses out there; yes, James had the decency to pay the hotell bill before leaving.