And We're Back *OR* How Paul Made This Happen

Well friends, it has been about 9 months since we last posted anything here on Downward Brent Lee, and, gosh darnit, we didn't miss a thing. The home office was cleaned out and we finally got rid of the monkey problem.

We've been taking our well deserved post-wedding break. Heck, we even resisted the temptation to blog about Toni & Chris during their wedding ramp up. But we remembered that we are here for B & Corrin (or Radio as they have been coined). Oh, I could talk about the fact that this writer spent nearly two months as a single dad or how this writer now has a beautiful daughter to go along with his son, but we won't.

Enough dilly and certainly enough dally, let's get to business!

Those of you on the interwebs have probably already heard that Radio is expecting a child later this year! Congrats to Radio, we are all excited to watch our crew continue to grow. Of course, this now means that any meetings between us all must be conducted at Chuck E. Cheese's.

"Psst, hey kid, there's better food over there"

Now, I must admit that I was a bit disappointed that there are not going to be triplets right off the bat, but there is always next time. So the question becomes, do they name the child Carl, Abernathy, or Bernard? I'm still rooting for Carl, as it seems only appropriate after all the work I have done.

When word first got out, this office offered cash to Radio to not find out if it was a boy or girl, and even more cash if they promised to name it Carl. Sadly, some people could not wait 7 months to find out what they were having and they ruined the surprise. That's fine, I guess they are just so rich that they don't need the immense financial backing of Downward Brent Lee.

So thanks to Paul for cleaning up the place and taking the cobwebs off of Downward Brent Lee. It's good to be back. I can guarantee that we've all gotten fatter and lazier, so don't expect a Christmas miracle, but there will be some posts. Especially since we are headed back to Vegas. Stay tuned!

Wedding Round Up *OR* I Thought This Blog Was Dead

It turns out I just can't stop, I've missed you all so much my faithful readers. When you do something for two years, you just can let it go. Plus, enough time has passed that I can give you my exclusive insider review of the spectacle known as the Brent Lee- Corrin Clark wedding.

My little family arrived in Paso Robles on Friday afternoon so that I could partake in the rehearsal and accompanying dinner. It goes without saying that the groomsdudes nailed it on the first go and needed no further practice. Paul behaved well enough to qualify himself for dinner, which is all he really cared about.

You may ask yourself why I was wearing a necklace. I am now asking that question too. Any insight would be greatly appreciated.

Since we all behaved well enough we went to dinner. The waitstaff seemed a bit perplexed with the idea of taking drink orders as random beverages appeared at various times in sundry locations. You never really knew what you were going to get. Food was served and people ate. My son was happy that there was bread.

 After dinner I have no idea where the bridesmaids went, and I am pretty sure I don't want to know. Especially since I think some "special" brownies were involved. The gents retired up to Paul's balcony and sat in the hot tub.

We're always a bundle of energy. We basically just told B that he was pretty hosed since he was getting married. Typical "scare-the-crap-out-of-the-groom-the-night-before-the-wedding" shtick. Oh and it started raining. A lot. And it was freaking cold. This outdoor wedding thing just wasn't going to happen.

The next morning brought about a lot of crummy weather. Greg and I ended up running some errands in B's truck and even went to his house. The temptation to mess up the house was great. We may or may not have done anything to the house. Antoinette would not believe us either way.

While the bridesmaids spent the entire day getting ready, the guys got ready in about 15 minutes. And then we looked like this:

Corrin told us we were not to look directly at anything, hence us looking off into the distance. Oh, and hey, remember when I told you that I had some things to spruce up our otherwise boring tuxedos? Can you say green socks? Oh yeah!

It was St. Patrick's day and it just made sense. You will also note that someone is not wearing the same type of shoes as everyone else. Paul deemed himself too precious to wear the other shoes. Thanks a lot Paul.

The wedding ended up indoors due to the rain.

Oh, I suppose I should talk about the bride and her gown. But, since I am a guy, I can't really tell you all that much. She looked lovely and seemed excited to marry B. Well, as excited as anyone would be to marry B. Sorry, that was kind of mean.

And then the reception hit and we were ready.

Yup, just four married guys hanging out in a hotel ballroom lobby while wearing tuxedos. Not married to each other mind you. Married to women. Different women. Ah, nevermind.

People were introduced. Food was eaten. People gave toasts. I introduced the newest iPhone. Oh wait, I gave a toast and yes, I did mention Vanilla Ice!

Paul sang a soul song and really got into it.

Greg, on the other hand, didn't say a word, just simply struck modeling poses. It was very effective.

And then there was dancing. Did I mention we didn't stop at the socks? Yup, there were headbands too. Don't say we don't know how to party, or accessorize.

What was weird is that B spent most of his time not dancing with his bride, but with this guy.

Not the cutest couple, but to each their own.

And sure, there were traditions. But I think they forgot other people were watching.

I did learn that Corrin knows how to boogie!

And she is a good sport. After the evening was essentially over, some of us retired back to Paul's room.

Be careful, or you might face the world's least intimidating gang.

All in all, a great time was had by all. Everything was well done and everyone had a great time celebrating B & Corrin. Congrats to the two of you.

Ok, now seriously, that is it. The blog is over. I'm done. This is unless, of course, we end up in Vegas in January. But don't hold your breath.

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!"

Skip The Toast, More Wilco! *OR* What Has The Stig Done For Me Lately?

You've waiting patiently and here we go, a new blog entry today. Of course, the problem becomes what on earth to write about?

Some of the Lee clan was down in the civilized world this past weekend to associate with their friends and of course the topic turned to the wedding. I asked Paul about his speech, to see if he had any ideas, because I don't want to trample on his speech with my own. Greg was interested as well, because we all need to be unique. Of course, this will be difficult when we are each trying to fill in our allotted toast time of 40 minutes or so. I was thinking I may put together a multimedia presentation.

I hope there is a big enough room for a screen this size. I've got some great pictures that will look amazing at 40' wide. I guess the issue now is what to talk about. I assume that Paul will actually talk about B and Corrin, so there is no need to rehash that old subject. Greg could talk about a variety of things, but I really hope he presents his "Top Gear" thesis.

I think I may try to cover the career of alternative rock darlings, Wilco.

I am pretty sure the folks at the wedding will appreciated being enlightened about some of the more important aspects of the art culture in the modern day.

Too often we get a bit too involved in the bride and groom at the wedding. Life still goes on and they need to learn it is not always about them. You can have your few moments, but let's talk about some of the bigger things in life, shall we? And darnit, you are going to sit there for the entire time that each of us is speaking and you are going to take notes. You will be turning in those notes at the end of the wedding and be graded.

So sit back, relax, enjoy the presentations and don't worry, the beef won't get that cold.

I Can Be Fat Spiderman *OR* Tranquilizer Darts Do Work

I've mentioned here once or twice that, like Spiderman I have a great responsibility. Sadly, Spiderman is not my favorite comic character. That honor goes to Batman. Don't let it go to your head Bruce Wayne (that's right, I know who you are!). Oh, but back to the actual responsibility, I am talking about being a groomsdude in THE wedding of 2012, and heck, let's add 2013 because absolutely nothing interesting will happen that year, aside from B and Corrin having the triplets (YIPEE for Carl!).

Even fat Spidermen can kick butt.

I have had to don the rented tuxedo before in two other weddings and, if I do say myself, I looked damn good (try to refute it). My main responsibilities were to show up and not make a fool of myself. Pretty easy task really.

Now, as a groomsdude, I have some other things to do. In Paul's wedding I had to tape the name "Ernesto" to the back of his coat. Yes, this is true. But before you think, "huh?", you need to know that there was also a shamrock taped to the back as well, just to keep it classy. I recall having to drive Paul's truck to about four different locations for some various reason. Even that I did with style and class. Basically I had to stand there during the ceremony and make sure that Paul didn't make a quick dash for the door. To make my job easier, we pumped Paul full of tranquilizers before (sorry Michelle, makes for a groggy wedding night).

Paul needed a timeout.

With Greg's wedding it involved standing around his Taurus SHO and taking pictures looking like a badass. Again, pretty easy when you are posing next to this piece of "American" muscle.

The ceremony consisted of a lot of standing up and then sitting back down. There were also about 52 groomsdudes, so the 'responsibilities' were a bit dilluted.

So onto B. What do we have to do with this wedding? There are 3 groomsdudes at last count, but I think there are 61 bridesmaids, so I am not sure how that is going to work. Yes, we have the bachelor party to plan, which is already under control to a degree. And then we have to make sure B gets dressed properly on the big day and be at the ready if he were to run. This means I may have to get back into shape. Maybe I can call on fat Spiderman to help us out; he's got webs he can shoot, therefore saving us a lot of energy.

I am sure other tasks me be presented to us as the date nears (less than 300 days now people), but I think I am going to rest up for the big day.

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.

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.

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!

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.