When I was younger (why do all these stories start that way), my roomie, Scott, my buddy Petey and I were at the bar. Petey had not initially wanted to go out for the evening and had plead poverty. After much whining, Petey caved and came out with us.
As a little background, Petey was a great buddy. A little nerdy, curly hair, glasses and a dry sense of humor. We didn't think he'd ever been laid and made it our goal to try to change that during our last year of law school.
We had been cocktailing it for a while and by this time in the evening, Petey was both drunk and out of money. We'd also managed to strike up a conversation with two girls around the corner of the bar from us. We were doing okay, but definitely not into full court press mode by any stretch of the imagination.
Petey, who by this point had his head on the bar (and probably was being supported by Scotty and I) raises his head to assess the situation. He saw that Scott and I were making some progress with the ladies, but things were still of an indeterminate nature.
Petey pipes up with, "If I had any money, I'd buy those girls some kamikazes." And promptly goes to sleep on the bar. We were not able to take Petey's advice because the ladies fled immediately after Petey's exclamation.
It was either that or Scotty dedicating a song by Tiffany (I Think We're Alone Now) to me over the dj booth's microphone. That's enough to scare anyone off.