Stag Party

First off… I haven’t intentionally been a bad blogger, I’ve had plenty of material, and I’ve wanted to sit down to hammer at the keyboard with our plans and activities several times now. Unfortunately for this little blog we are keeping a lot of details on the hush, so you’ll just have to show up and see for yourself.

Bachelor Party, last weekend, Las Vegas (Enough said, right? Nope, keep reading). All six of the wedding ninjas made the trip plus another four cohorts made for a total of eleven guys. I had an incredible time and everyone in attendance had a great time, not once did I look around and see a fellow stag party participant not rallying in sixth gear wide open.

There was a lot of sun and enough cheap beer to put the Kalahari’s dunes three feet under. When all was said and done, someone’s cell phone had the black screen of certain electronic paralysis (FYI, cell phones are not made to pace laps while swimming in a resort pool), no one married a stripper, no one extracted any teeth and no one was stranded on a roof, at the end of the day no movie clichés were fulfilled, but I did lose my voice. I found it a few days ago, it arrived on my door step via first class mail, post marked from the 12^th floor elevator lobby of Caesar’s Palace, where Charlie Sheen may or may not have made an appearance and destroyed some hotel property. Short of a baseball game (Go Rivercats!) one excursion with 11 guys wearing matching shirts, glue-on costume mustaches, aviator sunglasses and a scramble golf tourney, it was impossible to keep eleven grown men together. I don’t care if you’re giving away free beer and NFL tickets, you could tell 11 guys that if they show up at the same place at the same time, they’ll all get two hundred dollars in cash, I guarantee you at least two of them wouldn’t make it, so apparently we’re going to have to hire a sheep dog for the rehearsal and the wedding.

Bottom line, good times were had by all and it was just a prequel to the impending celebration that will be our wedding. 

 Editor's Note* On the 18th hole we had a bet; whoever had the shortest drive had to buy drinks, naturally, I was up first and I was foolish enough to let one of the fellas tee up the ball for me. You can probably see where this is going, but I didn't, I smashed that ball so hard it should have carried all the way to Reno, but it was a gag ball, I pushed it no further than the ladies tee box (those of you who golf, know what that means) and it erupted into a streaming ball of pink ribbon. That is what is wrapped around my head in this picture, pink ribbon from the gag golf ball. Thanks Guys.