The Odds Are In Your Favor *OR* You Can Count On It

It has been established that we are joining B in Las Vegas for his bachelor party. I'm sure you have some very distinct images of a bachelor party in Vegas. A little gambling, some drinking, a lot of saying "THIS GUY....THIS GUY HERE.....HE'S MY BEST FRIEND...AND I'LL FIGHT YOU ABOUT IT," maybe a strip club, and something to do with Mike Tyson.

This may or may not hold true for B's party. I guess some of us will just have to wait and see.

What is Vegas without some gambling? Sure, you could be a sucker and hit the tables or bet on the ponies. Me, I think I will bet on my friends. I've only known these guys for 20 years. I can predict their behavior and everything. So here is a list of things that will be happening while we are in Vegas. Granted, most of this could happen if we were in Branson or Duarte.

• Paul will wander off from the group [probably at least once a day].
• B will wake up before 8:00am and immediately want to eat.
• B & Paul will walk the Vegas strip before 8:30am, but not because they stayed up all night.
• Greg and I will sleep in until at least 9:30am. But not because we stayed up all night.
• I will complain about something at least once a day. Most likely the smoke in the Vegas.
• Red meat will be consumed. We will all regret it later that night. Pepcid, Tums, or GasX will be taken.
• B & Paul will turn their head at every siren they hear.
• Greg will examine the little flyers handed out in the street. Not because of what they advertise, but because of the type of paper and printing technique.
• I will flick Paul in the chest.
• B will regale us with stories about where he has taken Corrin. We will tune it out.
• We will all remember the time we went in the gliders and made loop after loop after loop.
• Greg and I will go the Ferrari dealership.
• B will be bringing a grip of singles to Thunder From Down Under and walk away empty handed and embarrassed. 
• We will meet a celebrity chef. I will talk about Top Chef with them.

Now, you can make your own bingo card and play along at home. Maybe I will tweet when these things happen. Feel free to make your own spaces and add your own speculations.

Don't forget, you'll have another opportunity to play bingo at the wedding. Just search this blog for it.

Rules, We Don't Need No Stinkin' Rules *OR* Put Down That Phone

In my continuing quest to bring you the 223rd best blog on the internet, I am always doing research. I crash some weddings, I host some wedding showers, I shop for tuxedos, and I go to the epicenter of the relationship between B and Corrin. That's right, I go to Morro Bay, home of not one, not two, but three stacks and one rock.

 I spoke with one of the other groomsdudes and B's brother, Paul. Of course the conversation steered itself toward our vacation. Collectively, the groomsdudes, who are all married and have children, simply need a vacation. If B wants to come along we can call it a bachelor party. If B does decide to join, we have all agreed that there must be some ground rules for our time wherever we go. So B, pay attention, stop watching reruns of 90210 and take some notes here.

• Married guys get as much phone time as they like. You, however, get 20 minutes per day, to be decided upon by the groomsdudes. You might get all 20 minutes at one time, you might only get about 30 seconds. You never know, but we'll let you know when you can use your phone. Otherwise your phone must be surrendered to a groomsdude.
• Your wardrobe will be chosen by the groomsdudes. You will wear what has been chosen. Don't bother packing any clothes, we have you covered...literally.
• Bring your wallet. There is a good chance you will be footing the bill for everything.
• Should Greg and I have our way, you will only be eating condiments and packets of saltines at all meals.
• There is a good chance you will be going to an all-male revue of some sort. You will go. You will not say anything. Otherwise, you will become part of the all-male revue.
• You will take all abuse, verbal and physical, with a smile. We may taunt you quite a bit about running into cows. Just smile.
• Should we allow you to drink alcohol, Jave gets to choose it. Remember it has been 10 years since he had a drink and he isn't so familiar with what is good anymore. Enjoy your watered down generic beer.

• You might be sleeping in a bathtub. Deal with it. If you don't complain, we will give you a pillow.
• At any time you may be asked to do either the Roger Rabbit or the Running Man. You will comply.
• Karaoke bars will be open. Just keep that in mind.
• Wherever we end up, it is a long walk back to Morro Bay. Wear some comfortable shoes.
• Your music selections will be between Marcy Playground and Kris Kross. Choose wisely.

Failure to adhere to any of these rules will result in sheer mayhem during the wedding. And guess who you would have to answer to for that. If you guessed Corrin, you would be correct. The rules have been laid out, it is now in your hands. Remember, anything else would be "wiggidity, wiggidity, wiggidity, wack!"

World's 633rd Most Popular Blog (According To My Own Fake Data) *OR* Don't Touch The Merchandise

Oooh, you've been waiting. I can tell. You come and check back daily, hoping, praying, that maybe today would be the day that there would be a new entry in the world's 633rd most popular blog. Oh yeah, we've cracked the top 1,000 in a poll I made up. To make it to 632, I need to beat a blog about hamster neutering.

But you don't come here to see me toot my own horn and proclaim this the best blog about a wedding, do you? No, you come here for the gossip, the inside scoop as it were about B and Corrin. You want to know what is happening down in the trenches and how this wedding is coming together. You want to know where you are going to sit and what they are going to feed you. And of course you want to know whether or not you get to wear a hat.

If you can find this hat, you are welcome to wear it.

Well, here is what I know about the wedding:
1. I'm in it.

Oh yes, your favorite blogger is IN THE WEDDING! Granted, this may have changed since I started this blog. In fact, I think they are trying to push me out of it all together. And I'm not just talking about the wedding. The other day while drinking water out of my favorite cup, some of the water went down the wrong pipe and I coughed a bit. I am pretty sure that B is trying to choke me. More recently, my 8 month old son had a very messy diaper. If I didn't know better, I would bet that B messed my son's diaper to try to gross me out. Well, I am going to let you in on a little secret...IT WON"T WORK! Oh yes, I am on to your little plan. You know I am going to steal the spotlight with my devilishly handsome looks and my Barry White inspired voice. My mad skills on the dancefloor coupled with my sparkling personality will simple turn all eyes toward me.

Now Corrin, you must not be jealous. Sure, the day was supposed to be about you, but when a 'personality' such as myself enters a room or joins a party, people flock. And really, can you blame them? Yes, you may have your friends who have never met me and are coming to the wedding for you, but honestly, they are just there to try to get to know me. Please be sure to remind them that I am married and not available. However, much like the pieces at a museum, they can look and admire, but they can not touch.

This Is Paul's Fault *OR* Please Explain Those Duties Again

Paul emailed me early this morning complaining that there had been no new blog entries in a while. He's right, but I just haven't been feeling anything. So Paul, next time feel free to contribute. There is little (okay, no) money to be made here, but the blogger groupies are certainly worth it. I can't leave my front door without being mobbed by adoring fans and paparazzi waiting to see what I am wearing and where I am headed.

Enough of complaining about fame. "I want to be famous and loved, but I want my privacy." Hey, you made that goal, now deal with it.

Lately Greg and I have been taking some lunch meetings with some of the more prominent people in the greater Los Angeles area (read: Just Greg and myself). We have frequented some of the best dining establishments and enjoyed quality meals (read: burgers at the nautical vessel that serves ground beef sandwiches, or The Hamburger Boat or The Ship).

While at the Galley (the actual name of the restaurant), Greg and I took a two hour lunch meeting (easy to do when you don't have real jobs). We started the work of the groomsdudes for B's wedding. We started some of the dirty work of planning the actual bachelor party. Now, B thinks that we are going to Vegas and we are going to let him think that. In all reality, we have something "different" planned. Everyone knows that B does not like to be the center of attention and does not like to be embarrassed. So what do you think we planned? Oh yeah, time to put B in the center of a three ring circus and then pour blood all over him a-la "Carrie."

Ignore the part where Carrie goes a little crazy afterward by locking the doors and setting the gym on fire. I am sure that B's experience will go off without murder....I hope.

After planning the bachelor party I am little lost as to what my duties are. We may have to explore that next time, on a very special Downward Spiral of Brent Lee.

Pay No Attention To The Man Behind The Computer *OR* Behind The Scenes At Downward Brent Lee

Folks, you are in for a treat today. You are going to get some insight into how the daily operations at The Downward Spiral of Brent Lee go. It is a complicated machine, full of oversight, a full technical team, and a team of researchers coming together to bring you the best in wedding blogging. I guess we should start off with the office. Here is where your crack staff come together daily to work on the blog:

Just a little place on the coast. It works for us though. Maybe you would like to see the parking lot, just to get a sense of the humble little staff.

Most of those cars are mine, but I lend them to the staff.

And here is my office, which is pretty typical of what everyone else has:

And here is the staff hard at work creating the best blog on the internet:

Impressive, no?

Sadly, this is not true at all. This is actually where the blog is created:

How about some real insights?
At the moment I wrote this blog entry, there have been 1,859 visits to the blog. The most popular post has been visited 38 times and that post is Slowly Getting To A Point *OR* Do Your Own Thing.

While the United States has the most visitors, Denmark is second with 177 page views. Even the wine-swilling cheese heads, the French, have visited 11 times.

American Google has referred me 249 times. Facebook is next with 95.

The most popular search term that gets you here is "CC Deville." Yup, the guitar player from Poison. Second is "glee rectal thermometer." What on earth are people searching for?

And the most popular image on the blog, which I did take and create is this one:

And there you are. Happy blog reading.

How Dare You *OR* You Can't Say That

To help the casual wedding goer, I am putting together a list of faux pas that should be avoided at any wedding. This will most likely be a two-parter blog entry (like you really care). And since I just write these things without any editing, we'll see where it goes and if we even need a second posting. Can't you tell the production values here are just top notch? I'm like the California budget, I exist, people are worried, but nobody wants to do anything about. Kind of like Lindsay Lohan's career! HA!

So here are some topics and words that you should avoid during the wedding of B and Corrin. Some may be taboo topics and some might just rile the feathers of certain wedding party members (I'm talking about Paul here, he is very sensitive).

• Spooge. This goes without saying. You just can't talk about spooge at a wedding. Gross.
• Gentleman's juice/ gentleman's sausage. See the reasoning above.
• Baby batter. While amusing, it lacks tact. Seriously people, class it up.
• Previous past girlfriends/boyfriends. However, you may bring up Tasha Pounders and Melissa whatever-her-last-name was. I know I do.
• Cows. I think this one speaks for itself.
• Paul's fascination with sheep. We simply can't tackle this love in one wedding.
• This blog. Shh, it is a secret and only 1,600 people seem to know about it. Let's let it be a surprise for B and Corrin.
• Filet-o-Fish from McDonald's. Only bring this up if you want to see Greg and myself get ill. Quickly.
• The Dodgers. Actually, we'll still be in spring training, so we can chat about this if you like.
• The triplets of Abernathy, Bernard and Carl. B seems to be a little touchy about this one.
• Vanilla Ice. I think there may be some trademark infringement about to happen.
• Oprah. I don't like her and neither should you. Simple as that.
• Nuclear holocaust. This is just a downer, why would you bring this up at a wedding?
• States that end in "ucky." I bet you are trying to think of how many states fit that bill. The answer is one. Good work there Carmen San Diego!
• My good looks. I don't want to overshadow B on his wedding day. But to give you a hint, this is typically how I look at weddings:

I LOVE weddings! Don't try to contain my excitement.

• Celine Dion. French-Canadian. Need I say more?
• Don't mention how much cooler this wedding would be if there were fire-throwers.
• Cheese.
• Charlie Sheen's downward spiral of shame and destruction. Granted, he may hit rehab by the time we reach the wedding. Or he may die. Only time will tell. I won't tell you which box I have in my office pool. Granted, it might help if I had an office...ok, off topic there.
• Rebecca Black's awesome music. I hold this dear to my heart and yet people seem to make fun of it. Like this one:

Ok, I think that covers things you shouldn't talk about at the wedding. Next we'll cover what you shouldn't DO at the wedding. I would keep an eye on Paul and Greg. I sense trouble brewing. And don't point your fingers at me, I'm innocent.

You will now note that you can "React" to the blog by checking boxes below. Knock yourself out.

I Touched Greatness *OR* B Sat Next To Me

As we are all aware, Thursday was St. Patrick's Day, when we celebrate some guy named Patrick by coating everything in green. I don't know (or really care) what you did for St. Patrick's Day, but I went to visit some friends. And who was there, you might ask? Well, I was graced by the presence of this blogs' namesake; Brent Lee. The man, the myth, the legend sat next to me as we tried to remain dignified in our friend's home while consuming corned beef and cabbage.

You would think this run-in with greatness would inspire some prolific blog writing. That it might stir the muse inside me. That with a little less than a year until the wedding, I would come up with some amazing blog post about Mr. Lee. Well, you would be wrong.

I did note a few things though, while in his presence.

• He is still not too keen on the name Carl for one of his triplets. In fact, he is not real sold on triplets in the first place.
• He will make faces at babies, but seems a bit uncomfortable holding one.
• He was wearing Timberland boots, which did cause me to recite a Beastie Boys song.
• He thinks we are going to be spending crazy money on his bachelor party. Joke is on him, we are going to need him to sponsor his own shindig.
• I don't want to give away too much, but there may be some gray hair growing around his temples. I can neither confirm nor deny this accusation.

So I've given you four blog entries this week (I think). I am tapped out. Don't expect anything too good next week, I'm lazy.

Yikes! Only A Year Left! *OR* Stop The Blog, I Want To Get Off

First off, Happy St. Patrick's Day. When we all celebrate our ability to look good in green, eat corned beef and cabbage, and somehow go back to our Irish roots.

Of course to do so, we must do the most stereotypical Irish accent we can think of and "pretend" to be drunk all day. And eat potatoes. And wear big sweaters. Gee, great day Irish, let's try a little harder. At least with Cinco De Mayo we get to light off fireworks. All we get with St. Patrick's Day is a river dyed green. Nice effort Chicago.

 It being St. Patrick's Day of 2011, the official countdown has begun (note new countdown thing on the right). We're only a year away from the wedding of the "holiday." B and Corrin have 366 days (2012 is a leap year) to get their act together and throw us one heck of a party. I don't go out to Paso Robles for anything.

Of course, what really matters is that I only have one more year to keep this pathetic little blog afloat. I figure if I aim for about 2 posts per week, I still have way too many posts to think of. Sigh. How does this affect you? Well, if you come here for entertainment, you may start to be horribly disappointed (this is where you act like you aren't already). Gads, we're going to have to think of more destinations and themes. Maybe we'll try to dress B up in funny costumes for the wedding. There is still some planning for bachelor parties to complete.

But as I was listening to a few songs, I thought maybe I should come up with a real gift. I know what you are thinking:
"What, another gift? Hey, they should be giving you a gift for all the blogging that you do."

No argument here.
But for some family, I have performed a song or two at either a wedding, a shower, or a reception. Typically, one is sappy and cute. And then the other is somewhat amusing. Oh, and I am by no means a talented musician.

I'm playing the mandolin, in case you care. The bigger guys are my brothers-in-law

I came across a Johnny Cash song that might fit the bill for one of them. Comment here if you think you know the song. Or if you have other ideas.

Here's to 366 more days!

Ultimate Bachelor Party *OR* Excuse Me Sir, I Think You Left Out Something

I am listening to Snow's 1992 hit, Informer. Ah, white Canadian Rasta Rap, where did you go?

Ok, onto the post. We here at Downward Brent Lee have been trying to think of the best bachelor party that we can host for B. Vegas is played out. We're not really much for going to clubs, a la Jersey Shore, and Atlantic City just isn't our cup of tea. Have you ever been to Atlantic City? It is like a poor man's Reno without the class.

So what do four guys in their 30's do for a bachelor party? How do we recapture the energy that we once had in high school? Simple, we rob a bank.

I'll let that sit in for minute..................................................................Yes, we're going to rob a bank. It isn't for the money, in fact, I think we would give it back (although Paul does have sticky fingers). The whole point is the rush of the act. Going up to the teller and politely telling them that we need all the money since we will be robbing them. We won't have guns, maybe just some butter knives or something, we don't want to hurt anyone. We get some duffel bags filled up and we nonchalantly walk out the door carrying thousands of dollars.

Here comes the best part though: the getaway. We will have rented some really cool, really fast cars in which to make our getaway. I might just choose a Camaro for nostalgia's sake.

I know Greg would pick something subtle, like a Ferrari.

My guess is Paul would try to blend in and drive something familiar, like a fire truck. Genius Paul, who would ever think to check the fire truck? Bravo!

B on the other hand would miss the point entirely and pick something, well, worthless. Like this Le Car.

While three of us would make it after an awesome car chase, B will have been thrown in jail and just might miss his wedding day. Sorry Corrin, but if your fiance made a better choice in vehicles, this would not have happened.

I, for one, am looking forward to us robbing a bank. I think it will get the adrenaline pumping, just what you need. And really, who else has done a bank robbery bachelor party? No one! Another Downward Brent Lee first!

(note to any law enforcement: this is a complete joke. I, nor anyone mentioned in this blog, has any intention of robbing a bank. None of us has ever been arrested nor intends to be. If you doubt that, take a look at the rest of this blog, all very tongue in cheek.)

Fly Me To The Moon, Part II

This really isn't a sequel to a previous post, but the title was too good to pass up as you will see.

Greg and I had the chance this past Monday night to watch the best show on television: Top Gear. Of course, we are talking about the British version. Yup, two unemployed dads sitting around the couch on a Monday night with sodas and cookies watching three middle-aged English chaps romp around in expensive cars. Sounds like a good Monday night to me.

We started to talk a bit more in detail about the potential bachelor party. We recognized that unlike previous bachelor parties, we've now got three married guys with kids and one guy who is engaged. This changes our plans a bit, because all the married guys want to do is get away for a little while and do nothing. So as we talked about some options, inspiration struck.

So B, I am excited to announce what will be happening for the bachelor party. This is breaking from tradition, since you visit Vegas too often anyways. We are going to go seperate ways for this bachelor party. Greg, Paul, and myself will end up in Santa Barbara or something like that, find some nice hotel rooms, watch some tv, eat dinner, and call it a weekend. You on the other hand are in for a treat.

Brent Lee, you're going to SPACE CAMP! You will be able to reach for the stars and hunt down E.T. while learning all about science. Yes, you will be spending six days with kids ages 12-14 while you all visit the stars. Spin around in this thing and see how long that spaghetti lunch stays with you:

Luckily you look so good in orange that you will right in. Nevermind the fact that you could be the father to half of these kids, they will accept you, braces and all. You can be their mentor and teach them all about puberty and girls. Let's be honest here, if some of these boys are going to space camp, they are going to need help with girls. And more importantly, I want to see you looking like this guy:

I hear you can also eat all the ice cream you can stand:

So while Greg, Paul, and myself enjoys views of the Pacific Ocean while sitting back and relaxing, you will be preparing for a fake space mission to the moon with fifteen of your new best friends. I think this sounds like a gear idea. Enjoy Space Camp B!

The Last Post Of 2010

It has been a short year for us here at Downward Brent Lee. We've been posting since October 3, 2010 and we have crested 700 page views. This little ragamuffin blog about some guy's wedding plans has swollen like B's nose after being hit by a baseball...twice. We've done a public service here that will continue on in some fashion all the way to March of 2012 when B and Corrin finally get hitched.

While most blogs do a "Best of 2010" blog entry highlighting the various highs of the year, we're going to skip that. Nope, we're going to prognosticate about what 2011 will bring for B, Corrin, and this humble blog.

• B will buy flowers for Corrin. He probably did something wrong.
• B will drive the Tahoe over 65 mph once.
• Somehow Vegas will play into some vacation plans.
• B and Corrin will fall in love with the name Carl and make future plans for their triplets.
• They will buy a dog and call it Jave, just so they can hit it over the head with a newspaper. Tragic.
• B will dance to the latest Vanilla Ice CD. We will laugh...a lot.
• While frolicking in the ocean, B will be chomped on by a shark, but using his amazing skills, B will turn that shark into an ally and attack the people who did him wrong. Steven Spielberg will option it into a movie starring a plucky young(ish) redhead...Justin! Justin rockets to super-stardom and hangs with Matt Damon, George Clooney, and Scar-Jo. He then tries to make a period piece about the black plague and his career spirals downward. He gets hooked on sugar packets and joins Celebrity Rehab. There are tears and Justin makes good on his promise to himself and his family. He makes a big comeback the next year, a-la Robert Downey Jr., and is the next Batman.

What a great 2011! Have a Happy New Year and remember, keep away from the yellow snow.

We've Made It *OR* How Paul Has Trouble Discerning Age

It has been a few days on the road trip where our little group of four have taken the cars we had in high school from Los Angeles to Vancouver. See previous posts for a recap of the drivers and their cars, or just trust that I was the coolest guy in the best car. I can prove it...

Yep, it takes real skill to lean against your car at age 17 like that. Did I really buy that car wearing a t-shirt? Nice work.

But what says Bachelor Party like a couple day road trip to a city that most of us went to while in college? I enjoy Vancouver, Canada for a variety of reasons.
1) Not that I do them, but drugs are plentiful. The really just solicit on the streets. Way to stay classy Vancouver.
2) According to Paul, young girls just don't look that young. To his credit, he only mentioned it in passing.
3) The phone calls you get at the hotel asking if you would like "entertainment" at 1:00am are welcoming.
4) When I drank, they had good beer.
5) Bus lane? Nope, a slalom course for our taxi that had no interior panels.

What more could 4 guys in their 30s want than a cultural melting pot? I'll answer that one for you, the guys that have kids would want a quiet nap.

But for B's sake we'll do something interesting. Like snowmobiling and eating hot dogs in a secluded cabin (long story there). Or use the word "eh" a lot when finishing sentences. Sounds like fun, eh?

In all honesty, this would be a fun trip, especially if we could find some of our old cars and rent them for a week. Top Gear, are you listening?

Load 'Em Up *OR* Please Sir, Can You Give Me A Lift?

Our little motley crew has made it to Carmel in our cars from high school. Just as a recap:
Paul is driving a Chevy S-10
Greg is driving a late 80's Buick Century
I am driving a 96 Chevy Camaro
And B is in the Kona Nut, a car that needs no explaination

It is time to depart and make our way toward our final destination of Vancouver, Canada via Oregon and Washington. While we have only been at this trip for a grand total of over 2 days, some old habits are creeping back in. It is like we are all 17 years old again. This has some benefits and some downfalls. We are not the most mature bunch, though we think we are. And B is wearing that darn Vanilla Ice shirt again. Won't that thing die?

Honestly, we're a bit embarrassed to be around him, so we jet off in our cars and let the Kona Nut fall behind. This is pretty typical. Don't ever ask B to lead a caravan, you might make it the year after you planned.

We cross the Golden Gate Bridge wishing we were driving these cars...

...instead of the moderately reasonable cars we are in. But then we remember, we are reliving some high school days, let's do something stupid and reckless. At that moment, I grab my emergency brake and yank it high to the ceiling and do a bitchin' 360 degree spin on the bridge. Paul and B yell at me for causing a potential problem while Greg tries to emulate by smashing down on his e-brake and pulling the same stunt. Greg and I are obviously enjoying this much more than the safety oriented Lee brothers.

It is near Eureka that we start to have some trouble. We've gone through about 4 barrels of oil just trying to keep these things on the road.

It is getting time. B calls in a favor and has another truck join the convey. Sadly, it isn't all that cool, but it might be needed just to make it to Oregon.

The fifteen flats of water than B and Paul are carrying in the backs of their vehicles are starting to weigh them down. I am getting tired of the same 6 CDs in my changer and Greg is starting to tire of the blue suede interior of the Buick. Yet, it is our inability to admit defeat to each other that keeps us going. We loved these cars, how could they let us down?

And then it dawns on us, we loved these cars because they meant freedom. We could go nearly anywhere. We could pick up chicks. We could go read magazines at the grocery store at 11:00pm. We could pile 10 people in them and go to a dance. These cars meant everything.

So we kept on, toward Canada.

What Harm Can A Bunch Of 30 Year-Olds Reliving Their High School Days Do *OR* I Hope The Nut Can Make It

In our last post we suggested the idea of the four groomsdudes getting back their old high school cars and taking them on one last roadtrip up the coast. As a recap, Paul will drive his S-10 (which got into an accident), Greg will take the old Buick Century (complete with suspension upgrades), I will take my old Camaro (the Silver Bullet won't let you down) and B will trail in the Kona Nut with all 12 hamster power.

I'll be honest, none of these cars is going to win a Concours d'Elegance or anything, but we loved those cars. I don't think we could count the hours we spent inside them or beside them trying to look cool. The cool part failed, but we had a good time. I have already told one story about the Kona Nut, so I will leave that out. I remember taking the S-10 to various functions because we could all sit in the back. And as Greg will remember, the back of that S-10 is where "Don't Wanna See No Schlong" became a big hit. With the Buick, I recall trying to the hit the very high notes in The-Artist-Formerly-Known-As-Prince's "Kiss." If you know me, I have a deep voice and it hurts getting up there. Then there is the Camaro, where to fit in the back, you had to be "flexy in the crotch." Again, we loved these cars and, gosh darnit, we were/are cool.

So the plan is to load up at La Canada High School, home of the Spartans and where all journeys should begin. There will be the obligatory mocking of the other vehicles, which I will win. My Camaro is bitchin' and everyone else should just bow down. And then Paul will want to get down to business and yell something that no one else really understands, but we will assume he means "Let's Ride" and we'll head on out. The 210 to the 134 to the 101 to the 1. Simple as that. Greg and I will race as much as we can while the Lee boys stop at every firestation they see. Paul will get on the CB radios we had installed and regale us with stories about car wrecks. Our first stop would be Morro Bay. Why? 1) Where else do you fly a kite out of a car window? 2) Free lodging. 3) Hofbrau!.

That night, while watching Cops, B will retell the story of him hitting 3 cows with a firetruck.

The next morning B and Paul will be up at 5:30am to walk along the beach while Greg and I sleep in and wait for some room service. Around 9:30 we will load up again after putting gallons of oil in the Kona Nut and the Buick (the Chevys won't have any problems yet, unless I hit a curb). Today we head up the best part of Highway 1 up to Carmel, CA and home of the Pebble Beach Concours d'Elegance. It is swanky and we fit right in. Carmel being the home of John Steinbeck, some great food, and the Seventeen Mile Drive.

There will have been some hills (advantage S-10), some curves (advantage modified Buick) and some need for speed (advantage Camaro). We'll just make B carry the luggage or something in the Nut. Sure, Greg and I will have made it up there about an hour before the Lee brothers, but we have heavy feet, what can I say?

Of course, the theme song for this entire journey will be the Refreshments "Banditos." Look it up- and I'll meet you at the mission at midnight.

Bachelor Road Trip *OR* How Many Cans Of Oil Can We Use In A Week?

I think I have mentioned the BBC television program Top Gear before on this blog. And yes, there is an American version as well, but it isn't quite the same yet. One the hallmarks of the show are the road trips that the hosts take and the vehicles that they use. This got us here at Downward Brent Lee thinking, which is always a dangerous prospect.

Why don't we get the ol' gang back together, find our cars from high school and take them on a trip up the California coast? We'll start here in the Los Angeles area and make our way up Highway 1 all the way to Vancouver (The Canada one, not the Washington State one).

Here is your line-up:
Paul Lee driving a Chevrolet S-10.

Greg Kathol driving a Buick Century

I will drive a Chevy Camaro.

So awesome!

And B will finish up in the famous Kona Nut.

Next week we will tackle the adventure. Stay tuned.

And don't forget to vote in the poll. I need stuff.

How B Avoided The Cops *OR* Why High School Is Dangerous To Your Health

Here at Downward Brent Lee, we are doing a service. Not only are we in the wedding planning business, we give marriage advice. And as G.I. Joe reminds us, "knowing is half the battle."

I feel as though it is my public duty to Corrin to fill in some of the blanks about Brent. I am sure there are stories that he simply is not telling you that will be important as your future unfolds. And isn't half the fun of dating getting to know who a person really is? Let me answer that, yes, yes it is!

So let me take you, dear reader, to a time when Bill Clinton was President. A time when Seattle grunge was influencing the flannel purchases of millions.

When the eyes of the world turned to Atlanta, GA for the Olympics. But more importantly, when a group of misfit teens roamed the sleepy streets of La Canada for something. Anything. OH THE BOREDOM! A younger Brent Lee and your author were cruising the concrete jungle and happened upon a street light. B was driving the famous Kona Nut, which had a bigger equalizer than a Ke$ha recording session.

The joke is that Ke$ha needs help to sound like anything because she can't sing.

For those who are not familiar, the Kona Nut was the name of the Toyota that the entire family at one point or another drove.

As a non-driving teen, we tend not to be picky about what car we ride in. Heck, I drove a Buick Park Avenue for a couple of years.

As I was saying, we were riding in the Kona Nut in beautiful La Canada, enjoying the sights and decided to make a left onto Angeles Crest Highway. This is the highway the leads to the area of the Station Fire and where a truck plowed into a bookstore a year or so ago.


Typically when driving in America, we stay on the right hand side of the road, and especially the right side of the islands. B, being a rebel teen, decides that he is too cool for traffic laws and decides to go English on me and heads toward the left side of the island. Being the quality friend I am, I yell at him and mock him for making such a grievous error. However, that fades quickly as I notice the police car behind us with his lights on all of the sudden. Yet, B being the major trendsetter has encouraged some dimwitted soul to follow in his English ways. Luckily, the police car pulls over the second car and B and I take off into the hills of La Canada trying to avoid the strong arm of the law. Like a little girl, B screamed "I'm too cute for prison." Being the tough guy I am, I told him to floor it. All 25 hamsters in the Kona Nut rev up and we jet up into the side streets of La Canada. Once B stopped crying we continued back to the main streets of La Canada, but not before B thinks that the law is for chumps and his cuteness will only serve him as a boyfriend in prison. As we coast back down the hill he ignores a stop sign and blows through the intersection. At this time I point out the error of his ways and tell him to man up and knock off this ridiculous behavior. Needless to say, B did not go to prison and I maintained my street cred.


So Corrin, you have to keep an eye on B while he drives. And while a snail could probably pass him while he drives, sometimes he just gets a little crazy.