We Survived, Sorta...

The good news is that everyone has made it home from Vegas. The bad news is that I think we broke Paul. Of course, now that I am home, I might be broken as well.

We had a good time and after realizing that the four of us had not been together like that in about 10 years, it has been decided that we need to do it again soon. But next time I might need some energy drinks to be able to keep up.

B hooked us up with some great rooms at the Aria hotel and we ate steak every night. Could there be anything worse for your heart? Possibly not, but you only live once, right? It goes without saying that we ate like kings. Fat kings, but kings nonetheless.

So here is a quick recap for those interested in living vicariously through some 30-somethings:
Day 1: Greg and I drove from LA while B and Paul drove from SLO. Greg and I pulled off at Zzyzx Road.

 There is some amazing stuff down there. A cool salt flat and some interesting views.

 Then, of course, you hit Baker, CA and the World's Largest Rectal Thermometer. It has seen better days it seems.

Here is where Greg and I made a horrible decision. We have always seen Bun Boy from the road and wondered what it was all about. So we took a risk and headed inside. Huge space and we were 2 of about 6 patrons in the place. We ordered hamburgers. Simple, right? Well, it took about 20 minutes for them to arrive. When they did they were about as hot as the surface of the sun and had been cooked to a near-hockey puck texture. Neither of us finished the world's worst burger and left feeling like putting an hot iron to our tongue would have been a better decision. 2 hours later and it still felt like I had a glowing ember in my gut. So here is our travel top tip: Don't eat at Bun Boy.

Arrival and hanging out. Dinner at Tom Colicchio's Craftsteak. Great space, great food. If you want to roll large, try the $265 wagu steak. What goes well with steak? Fireworks! So we head 30 minutes north of Las Vegas into the desert at around 11:30pm to the Moapa Travel Plaza to buy some fireworks. The great thing is that you can light them off just a few seconds down the road.

 We were there until about 1:00am blowing up about $200 worth of fireworks. We did not make all that mess you see out there, it was quite a mess before we got there.

Day 2: "Early" morning wake-up to get some old-fashioned straight edge razor shaves at the Art of Shaving.

Granted, in this picture it does kind of look like a doctor checking a corpse, but trust me, B and Paul are under those towels and very much alive. Afterwards we walked around for a bit and went back to the room to watch some football and relax. B made us get all dressed up and head over to Prime Steakhouse for night 2 of meat. After about 3 hours of expensive gluttony, we moved on and B danced for some Russian girls. That last part may be incorrect as I was not there.

Day 3 came a bit later and we grazed on a muffin while thoughts of grass-fed beef danced in our heads. We headed out to Boulder City. Why? To fly down 1.5 miles of cable dangling over the side of Bootleg Canyon. Yes, we did the Bootleg Canyon Flightlines! You get moving up to around 50 mph while you zip over your impending doom and death.

Your motley crew

Looking down at the first run

The brakes

B getting ready to fly

B is trying to cheat

Masters of the mountain

This was a lot of fun and there was no spinning around in circles involved (inside joke). We all agreed that this was something that we would do again. If you get the chance, head out and do it. It is very safe and a lot of fun.

Our last night was spent doing what else but eating steak! Yes, we did a trifecta of meat and finished off at Delmonico Steakhouse, one of Emeril's places. I really enjoyed the food there a lot and we had a nice time. The service was very warm and friendly. But B might rank some of the patrons as a 3...hard to explain.

We had a great time overall and are looking forward to doing it again before another decade passes us by. There are more pictures and some video out there and once I get them, I will put them on the blog for all 4 people who read this thing to check out.

It's On Like Donkey Kong *OR* I Need A Fix Of Second-Hand Smoke

The time has arrived for the groomsdudes to accompany Brent Lee to his bachelor party in Las Vegas. Hours of planning has come to this. As with every good bachelor party, there will be some memorable moments. I can't tell you what they are yet because they are a surprise for B, but if you stay tuned to the twitter feed @DownwardBLee, you can stay on top of all the happenings.

In doing my research and trying to find things to do in Las Vegas, I have learned that the following things are required for a bachelor party. With any luck, we will be able to cross them all off the list.

• B must wake up in a pool of his own bodily fluid. It turns out that the type of fluid is not very important.
• Some place that features a neon sign that mentions "GIRLS! GIRLS! GIRLS!" must be frequented.
• Hair gel must be applied in copious amounts.
• Body spray should be substituted for showering.
• Awkwardly sentimental moments must be shared.
• The phrase "your life will never be the same" must be spoken often.
• Grotesque references to private parts should be uttered. (I'm leaving that to Paul)
• B must be humiliated in a public situation.
• Physical violence must occur.
• A moment will be shared where the party-goers will revel while purveying a vista.
• Convertibles should be driven and the phrase "VEGAS BABY!" should be yelled out of said convertible.
• The group must walk shoulder to shoulder in a line in slow motion in front of the Bellagio fountain while a swinging Frank Sinatra song is played.
• B should wake up one late morning in a strange hotel room wondering why his back is so sore only to find out the name "Olga" has been tattooed on his back in very large letters.

I think with all the planning I've got  most of these things covered. And don't worry Corrin, we're only going to hit places with names like "Spearmint Rhino" and "Tropical Lei." I hear they have great buffets there. Oh, and we can't forget B's return to the stage that made his famous...as a member of the Thunder From Down Under. But I am trying to recreate B in this image:

In all seriousness, stay tuned to the Twitter feed, I will live-tweet the weekend and let you honestly know what is going on. It might be this...

Pack It Up, Pack It In *OR* Do I Really 4 Pairs Of White Nikes?

It is so close, I can taste it. Scratch that. It is so close, I can smell it. Yup, that sounds about right.  The bachelor party is nearly upon us. Let the mild-mannered debauchery begin!

It seems it will be me, Zach Morris, a small bale of hay, a pretzel, and some bottles of liquid. Just what I wanted.

With the trip being so close, I thought I would put together a handy packing list for B. This way, he knows exactly what to bring and can get a sense of what might be happening that weekend.

1. You have to bring your tear-away pants. Be sure to bring the fancy ones, I don't want it looking like you are about to jump on the basketball court. Thunder From Down Under keeps it classy.

2.  Hand sanitizer. I can't guarantee the cleanliness of the some of things that you will be doing. You don't want to catch a cold or anything.

3. Your inhaler. I don't think you have asthma, but when we're done with you, you might have trouble catching your breath.

4.  Road flares. You never know, do you?

5.  Cattle guard. I've seen you drive and we know you once ran through about 450 cows in one swipe. Better to be safe that sorry.

6.  Clothes pins. I can't tell you know what you need them for, but trust me.

7.  A small kite. I hear there is a nice long stretch of road. We might have a convertible. Who doesn't love kite flying from a convertible?

8.  $25,000 bail money. Again, better to be safe than sorry. But I did look up all the laws in Vegas and I think for about 85% of them, $25,000 should bail you out.

9.  Novelty t-shirt announcing bachelor party.

10. Throat lozenges. There will be screaming. Again, I can't tell you from what, but you'll feel it the next day.

Oh sure, you can bring toiletries and some clothes if you need. But as long as you follow my list, you should be just fine. Good luck little man.

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.

Turn It Up, It's Freedom Rock *OR* I Remember This Song, It Stinks!

Greetings from 2012. I'll bet your New Year's resolution was to read this blog more often and maybe even contribute an article. Let's make that happen, shall we?

With 2012 here we are in the wedding year of B and Corrin (also known as Radio). It's finally here and in a few short months I can abandon this blog and send it to the graveyard or have a funeral pyre.

You bring the marshmallows and I'll bring the gasoline.

Also with 2012 comes B's bachelor party. We've teased a bunch about activities and locations for this little event (keyword: little). As B knows, since he is making the reservations, we are headed off to Loss Vay Gus (that's Las Vegas to those outside of the know). Yes, Sin City. What better place for a Mormon guy like myself than a city that prides itself on sin and doing things that I can't do? Can you believe I've gone this entire blog without mentioning the Mormon thing? I can.

In anticipation of this event, I put together a little CD for B and the other groomsdudes and sent it off. This has all of your party rock favorites, some classics from our earlier days, and a few songs about Loss Vay Gus. It is such a good mix that I have good news for Radio: you don't need a DJ. Just put this CD on (or use the playlist) and let the evening roll on. It's got such hits as "Viva Las Vegas" from Elvis.



Oh sure, this isn't the Elvis version, but this may be better.

And then for the entrepanuer in all of us, there's the Reverend Horton Heat's "Bales Of Cocaine."



Classic song. Then there is a song that Greg and I used to try to sing, but I can't hit those high notes at all: Prince's "Kiss."


(I don't want to get sued by the sign formally known as Prince)

And then what Brent Lee event would be complete without some Vanilla Ice? It would be nothing, that's what. So of course, we had to include:



By the way, you know you're a badass when you spraypaint in neon colors.

Now that there is a soundtrack for our trip, we need to find some things to do. Sadly, I can't tell you now because it would spoil the surprise for B. I can give you two hints:
1. It start's with "T"
2. It rhymes with "Blunder from Down Under"

With a soundtrack like that, four guys like us, and a chance of seeing some of Australia's finest export it is sure to be an unforgettable weekend. Sorry B.

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!"

We Have Contact! *OR* Spend More Money On Me

Gather around folks, it's true story time. This week's episode is brought to you by the movie From Justin To Kelly.

Moving on, Brent Lee himself called me this past week. Sure, this may not sound like much to you, but considering he never calls and hardly sends a text or an email, this was a big break-through. You might think we only talked about horsepower and chicks, but it turns out that B does not really care much for horsepower. Therefore, we can assume he has never seen Top Gear and is about to lose his man-card.

 

Anyways, he informs me that I should think about making reservations at some hotel where they think they are having the wedding. I guess he hasn't been reading the blog, because I think we have opened up some alternative locations. Yes, you better hurry and make your reservations for a hotel nearly 6 months in advance to beat the St. Patrick's Day rush. Hey, I haven't even received the official invitation yet and you want me to make reservations? And wait, why am I paying to stay in some hotel to come to your wedding? Isn't that your responsibility? When I invite someone to my home for dinner, I don't make them bring dinner. Something must change here.

If that isn't enough, I am now informed that some guy with a pretty good beard has got to measure me for a tuxedo. 

 Again, I thought that we had explored some other options that were quite a bit more comfortable than wearing a tie, vest, coat, and someone else's shoes. And here comes the kicker, B wants me to pay for that too! Wait just a minute here, are you saying that none of my suits are good enough for you? I look pretty darn good in them and I have a wide variety of ties to choose from. This is all quite tragic.

Yes, the conversation turned elsewhere and we caught up on some things and discussed his Halloween costume, which I did not know was going to be shiny. 

I would not trust that man to pilot my red wagon, let alone an airplane. Did you know he once hit about 12 cows while driving a firetruck? Yup, this is your state money here folks.

Here's to waiting to hear from B until February when the groomsdudes go on a vacation and we see if B decides to tag along and call it his "bachelor party."

Nevada, Here We Come *OR* Currie, You Will Be The Death Of Me

I had the pleasure of dining with the other groomsdudes and their wives a few nights back. Did I mention we did this without children? It was glorious for that fact alone. I think we spent about 3 hours having a very leisurely dinner and no one ate any Cheerios.

Not my child.

And of course the talk came around to the upcoming wedding and the expectations that we all held. We did agree that it would be a lot more fun if there were a bounce house involved, not for the kids, but the "adults." I was led to believe that this could be a fairly rowdy wedding, unlike that dullard Kate & Will wedding...BOOOORING!

As the groomsdudes kept stuffing their faces and watching Paul inflate like a blowfish to some allergic reaction, we made some executive decisions about the bachelor party. (Please note I have resisted the urge to put a picture of someone with a swollen face here and make rude comments.) But we have decided to keep most of this hidden from B, so I can't really spoil too much here.

I can say that anything he has a preconceived notion about is completely wrong. He thinks we are going to Nevada, that is correct. But he thinks Vegas. HA! We're actually headed to Currie, NV!

Haven't heard of Currie? I feel sorry for you. Right there in the Northeastern corner of Nevada is one of the finest cities that the American West has to offer. Named after Joseph Currie, the city was founded in 1885 and lives on to this day with a population hovering around 20. Yes, you read that right, twenty. Luckily for us, the majority of the town is for sale. Can you imagine owning a part of Nevada history? 20 acres containing Goshute Mercantile, the bar, adjoining house, cabins, RV park, garage, historic buildings, and corrals.

I've always wanted to own a town, what a great opportunity. And think of the raging party we can have there. We could....um.....camp. Yup, camp and....um....check out the bar, and.....um.....see the corral. Seriously, Google Map it. Zoom in here and head down to highway 93, you get a good sense of what this town holds. Luckily for B, gambling is legal here. Of course, the question becomes, will B come back? It could be pretty easy to lose him in a town of nearly 20.

Somebody's Due For Prison *OR* How To Have A Memorable Bachelor Party

Greg and I were having dinner and watching Top Gear last night, I know, surprise surprise. Oh, we ate some smoked ribs and potatoes. You know two guys are cooking when nothing green makes it on the plate.

After Top Gear was over (great episode by the way), we continued our months-long conversation about B's upcoming bachelor party. I don't want to give too much away, but B thinks we are headed to Vegas. I hope he is not tied to that idea, because we have some actual other ideas. However, we both agreed that somebody is due for prison. Let me repeat that, because it is important, SOMEBODY IS DUE FOR PRISON. Why, you ask? Why not? We've avoided it as a group for years. You would think that in the nearly 20 years we have known each other that somehow, one of us would have landed in jail, even just a quick hold, with some of the things we have done. I can't go into the specifics because I have no idea what the statute of limitations is in 5 states and a couple of other countries.

Both B and Paul are employed and have a nice little steady income. While Greg and I have "incomes," I wouldn't call it steady (pimpin' ain't easy). What better way to get some free food and lodging than by getting yourself tossed in the slammer? Just ask my friend Lindsay!

B can spend a few nights in the clink and the rest of us can enjoy whatever bachelor party we were going to throw. It is brilliant really and I wish we had thought of it earlier. And think of the stories that B can tell from his time behind bars! Bubba and his friends are waiting to meet you, B.

While we might miss B for about 4 minutes, I think the feeling would pass. I think it would also humble the groom-elect. You know they call marriage a jail sentence, well, now he would really know the meaning. Brilliant as always Mr. Kathol. Another problem solved.

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.

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!

I've Been A Bit Lazy, So Sue Me...No, Wait, Don't Sue Me

I know this may come as a shock to some of you, but I got a little busy this week and haven't had time to keep up my furious blogging pace. Filling in for a 6th grade teacher can really take it out of you. I need a vacation from my seven days of work. That being the case, I think we should revisit the idea of taking the bachelor party out to Dubai.

Dubai has been on a tear recently and has been building like crazy. They know the oil isn't going to last forever so they are planning ahead and trying to get some tourism going.

Look at the growth in just 13 years, they even developed color! They have made the world's tallest building.

An indoor ski area:

And they are building the world:

They have dispersed their wealth...well, no, not really. Just the wealthy are doing well, like it should be. They've got some crazy hotels and crazier things to see. Granted, they do have Ferrari World.
There are some drawbacks though. Being an Islamic country, there are some restrictions. But if you have money, they have what you want. Heck, some of the hotels have a fleet of Rolls Royce's for their guests to be chauffeured around in. So all we have to do is get to the Mid-East where Americans are loved. We can leave B there to soak up the culture. A bit risky, sure, but how often do you get to hang out where they are crazy enough to build a ski slope in the middle of the desert? That's something not even Las Vegas has touched yet. Your move America!

Let's Get Fondled By The TSA *OR* Bachelor Party Ideas

One of the major responsibilities that being a groomsdude and blog writer entails is to think of some good idea for the bachelor party. Thankfully for B, I have two other groomsdudes to help me out in planning. Otherwise we would be spending a few nights in beautiful Duarte, heck, Duarte has a Sonic now! Every good bachelor party should have someone on roller skates bringing you some tater-tots.

Now, to throw B some clues, we have been talking about destinations for the bachelor party. Bad news for B though, is you have three married guys who have kids planning your bachelor party. If it were solely up to us, we would just rent four different hotel rooms on the beach and sleep the weekend away and maybe watch some tv. We'll be lucky if we get to eat without having to move plates, silverware, glasses, condiments, and food outside of a four foot radius of someone.

Sure, we could do Vegas, but it seems so played out. B likes it, but where would be the fun for us seeing B get lost in a new city? In fact, he once met me in Chicago and he was afraid to take the L. Whimp.

Mexico is another option, but I hear you can't drink the water. While I pretend that I can speak Spanish, I don't know if it will get us very far.

How about New York? The Big Apple! Lodging is expensive and where would you even begin? Plus, we are planning on a February trip and if you haven't noticed, New York is cold in February.

Miami? Naw, Jersey Shore was there and it is ruined forever.

Chicago? Again, the cold plays in, but they do have the Weber Grill, the best restaurant idea ever! Everything is cooked over charcoal on Weber Grills indoors. Delicious.

Somewhere in Texas? This oddly has some potential, only to see B squirm at the idea of having to go to Texas. Granted, we would go to a cool city like Austin or San Antonio. Sorry Big D (that's Dallas).

Now I like Nashville for some reason. Great BBQ and you simply smell like hickory smoke wherever you go.

Dubai is an option, but only if B is paying. But I think we should stay at the world's best hotel , the Burj Al Arab.

I think we may have to explore this idea a bit more.

In other news, it turns out your favorite Vanilla Ice song is "Play That Funky Music." Interesting taste readers.