Where the hell is my hat?

I'm back from vacation. It was an outstanding trip, but not without casualties. Most notable was the loss of my trusty phillies hat.

Somewhere between two strippers lesbian and sleeping outside in New York City, I lost an old friend. If you know me you know the ever-present red hat has been through many a tough scrape. Or something. I vomited on it once.

Here is the last known photo of the hat in question. Drunkenly taken outside some random wine bar in the Meat Packing District.



It did it's job all week until the unfortunate disappearance. Although still I think its around somewhere. It could turn up!

Obviously, it provided head cover when necessary, be it playing golf or watching the oh so rare hip hop show in the rain. Although it was still cold as shit. That show deserves its own post though -- coming later.

But the hat also successfully shielded my eyes during poker, allowing for modest winnings. They would become less modest on the roulette wheel, and then hail on the strippers.

Lets see, what else did it do? It made me look like a tourist when I was walking around midtown Manhattan. But that kind of helped me blend in.


So I mourn .... oh wait no. It's on my head. It's been a long week.