Disorientation and confusion always sweeps the mind of the partier who opens his eyes to unfamiliar ceilings. Collecting the puzzle pieces from the night before is difficult, but not impossible. They are scrambled and several pieces have been vacuumed up by obvious signs of consumption.
Marvel at the possibilities when fresh eyes fall upon pink walls and follow them down to women’s underwear draped over brimming laundry baskets.
The next stage of thinking is driven by excitement and hope.
Sixteen year old teeny bopper? Jailbait Twins? Blondes? A product of teenage lust? Or something more? The mind boggles at the thought of rolling over to see your very own personal Pocahontas or Cleopatra lying exhausted and nude beside you. A few heartbeats later you realise the chances of going to bed with an angel and waking up with a yeti are more plausible.