gdisnowpatrol: (do WHAT with a power drill?)
I'm...guessing this antique doesn't have service to Seattle, does it? 

[a weak, awkward chuckle as Izzie tries to suppress a nervous breakdown]

Or, you know. Actually exist. I'm hallucinating, please Jesus tell me this is all one very messed up tequila-soaked dream...

Right. Well. Um. Hi. I'm Izzie. If someone could point me towards the nearest bus station and explain why I woke up in a pink, cat-printed nightgown I'd really, really appreciate it.


[Following the phone conversation...

A. Waking up at 748 Partridge, Izzie finds herself in a bed, sleeping next to someone she doesn't know, in a room with several stuffed animals. Feel free to see her with a catatonic D8 face

B. Izzie is wandering around town trying to find either a liquor store, bus station, computer or cell phone. Where is the friggin Wi-Fi?!]

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gdisnowpatrol

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