I bet $5 each on two horses in Saturday's Kentucky Derby. Midnight Interlude (my short odds bet) and Animal Kingdom (the long shot). Whilst sipping on some Woodford Reserve (Kentucky bourbon) bought with my brother's win in an earlier race, I didn't hear either of my horses names called until near the end when Animal Kingdom streaked on the outside for the win.

Holy cow! Or Holy Horses! With a payout over $43 per dollar bet, I won $215! Kallu Kalla, I was rich!

First off, I bought my own bottle of Woodford to celebrate ($185 left).

Then I went out and bought myself a steak dinner ($145 left).

Feeling somewhat bloated, but satisfied, I decided to hit the town proper.

To the rock bar! Loud music reigned as I went through fifty bucks in short time with drinks for myself and others around shouting "Animal Kingdom! Animal Kingdom!" ($95 left)

Stumbling through the streets, I realized that maybe I shouldn't try to maneuver myself through the gauntlet of cops patrolling the streets this weekend (it was Siete de Mayo and the cops were feeling punitive). I only bounced off a couple of buildings before making it to 4th Street where the taxis live.

"Take me home!" I bellowed at the cabby, who silently jerked his thumb toward the back seat of the yellow motorized banana.

We were about halfway there when I realized the shots had eaten through most of the steak in my belly. More sustenance was needed!

"Desert Fish, my good man. I require oysters!"

"Hmmph," he said and headed north to Central. When we arrived, he asked if he was waiting for me.

"Waiting for me? It's your life!" I exclaimed. On such a night, no one should have commitments. ($65 left)

Neo-funk jazz bumped in the background as I slurp slurped down a plate of oysters (and sip sipped my martini). Again, the crowd cheered the winner as the night got deeper and deeper. Time was not on my mind, but it seemed to be on others as the bar dimmed and someone offered a ride home. ($??? left)

In the passenger seat (who was this? how did they know where I lived?), my night was sloshing around in my stomach. The surf and turf fighting for control, but both were drunk and not playing fair.

I tried to say something (a warning perhaps?), but it didn't make much sense. The driver, who seemed to have no face, gave out a scream (where was the mouth?) and screeched the car to a stop.

"Get out!" came at me with a push, and I was falling from the car onto the pavement just before the warring factions in my stomach came up for air. The car lurched off, and I tried to make a peace pact...a little too late.

Just a couple of nappy poos...as the night began to turn light.

A few hours later, I found myself about a mile from my house and began dragging myself home. I still had $5 left and my keys. My car was downtown somewhere, and would have to be retrieved sometime before band practice.

If I could just get the shouting in my head to lessen.

But at least I was a winner, and no one can take that away from me.

Matt Worley "bet" on the winning horse, but only in a fantasy-type way with his brother and sister in law. He spent the night working on mixing his band's latest recordings. But he did get a bottle of Woodford.