Vegas, Baby

This weekend you will find me in my sweatpants on the couch eating popcorn with the girls watching HGTV Princess movies.

This blissful synopsis thesaurus hard at work is brought to you by this little fact:

My hubs and several other hooligans are going to Vegas this weekend for a bachelor party.

There are several s-s-s-scenarios that could potentially go awry, the least of which would be waking up to a stolen tiger in the shitter.

I do feel bad for the employees at the Hard Rock Hotel who will have to enter that suite and clean it after they leave.  I would suggest wearing an oxygen mask because the ass gas in that room will be at nuclear bomb level.

I actually have family that lives in Vegas and Josh wanted my aunt's phone number in case of emergency.  Read: needing info. on bailing the groom-to-be out of jail.

Oh, and to all the ladies in Vegas:  there is a no return policy on Josh.

And, to all the creepers who are now considering kidnapping me and the girls just know this; I have a three legged half blind dog that will bark her brains off at you. And then lie down and beg for a belly scratch.