Bud: Don’t look at me. My hair hurts.
Me: So you crashed our neighbor’s party last night, huh?
Bud: They were sooo loud. I couldn’t sleep.
Me: What. You couldn’t just go over and politely ask them to keep it down?
Bud: That would have been rude...especially after the ninth coquito.
Me: I thought the party got louder later on in the night.
Bud: Can you believe there’s a group of Cubans in this world that don’t know how to make a decent conga line?
Me: Really?
Bud: Nah. We were all just exercising our creativity and working off the calories.
Me: Then why the hangover?
Bud: After the Puerto Ricans left, nobody could agree on the secret coquito recipe, so we spent the rest of the night drinking cheap rum.