Money, Prostitutes, and Taylor Swift

Context: I let myself into a friend's house to leave him money to buy baseball tickets. (I'm essentially paying $91 for a Fenway Frank, and I'm told the privilege of likely being ejected within the first 3 innings. I have taken the over-under and bet on four.)

In defense of The Hangover,
I didn't like it back when it was Very Bad Things either.

Me: I considered hiding the money in one of your shoes to make you look for it, but instead left it in your computer. Much less work. (Ryan has many, many shoes.)

Ryan: Thanks, yeah. Did you leave the computer open?

Me: It was half-open, half-fallen diagonally inside a half-closed drawer. I more just threw the money into it like a spent and malaised prostitute after a business transaction.

Ryan: Nice simile. I was downloading a file, so I left it open.

Me: Thanks. Yeah, I killed my battery the other day downloading Taylor Swift. I'm … not proud.

Ryan: We all have our guilty pleasures.

Me: That's just the thing. I can't tell if I get any pleasure out of it. She's like the tween country equivalent of S&M. Catchy bitch.