Opening Pandora’s Box. Pandora = Tiffany?

I’m off to Vegas later today, where what happens there stays there…unless you need a prescription to get rid of it. We’re doing the bachelor party thing for my buddy, and it should be a blast. I think everything is fair game as long as I don’t get married. How mad would Michelle be after waiting almost six years if I just went and married an escort named Heather Graham?

In order to distract Michelle’s mind from the obvious debauchery I will be participating in, I told her she can go look at rings this weekend. Yup. There must be a million questions racing through your heads right now. Does this mean-? When will you-? Relax, people. It’s going to happen sometime, and I’m finally realizing it’s not a big deal until people say something. There’s good news in all this, but I’ll let Michelle share that sometime. It’s pretty funny…to me anyway. So while she’s looking at shiny things, thinking I’m in Napa Valley, I will be shoulder deep in strippers.

Back to the matter at hand. If you didn’t get the reference to the Heather Graham escort or Napa Valley, you need to see The Hangover, which I am calling this generation’s Porky’s. Watch that film and you’ll know what our weekend will be like, except with a Panda and not a Tiger.

Peace out, suckers!