The most important part of the wedding...

I don't care so much about the bouquets and music and what shoes the Bridesmaids are wearing... but I do care about the honeymoon!

We're flying (on a private jet thanks to Morgan's ex-boss Jonathan... yeah, I set that up... Morgan's not the only one with connections) to Italy for two weeks.  I figured we needed two weeks.  I intend to keep her in the hotel room for the first week... then we'll have some time for sight-seeing and drinking wine.  Anyway, since we've got a long flight, I decided to put together some travel packs.  But I can't decide which one to give her:

For me:
Lori Foster's new book, Pringles, Gatorade, beef jerky and chocolate chip cookies.

Yeah, it's heavy on food.  You think that's an accident?

For her:
I've got two choices.

1.  Chocolate body pens, a finger vibrator, and the I Dare You game .  This will pass the time just fine and we can keep using them once we get to the hotel.  And yeah, so this is really for both of us... I'll share my Pringles with her.

2.  Magazines, Twizzlers, a couple of older Lori Foster books, the new Kelly Clarkson CD.

What do you think?

Yeah, you're right.  I'll get her both.  She'll share the Twizzlers with me.  And I didn't say what kind of magazines I'd get her...

Damn, girl

When Kevin and Eve were applying to be legal guardians for Kevin’s little brother, Drew, we all went to the State and became foster parents. 

Mac and Sara were the first ones to have a kid placed with them.  They had two little girls for about a month, while their foster parents were dealing with some other stuff, but they went back to their original foster parents eventually.  That was tough on Sara, but they had a baby boy placed with them a week later and he stayed a couple of months.  Then they found a family who was ready to adopt and he went to them.  That also tore Sara up.  Now they have Elijah.  He’s been with them for almost five months now.  I have a feeling he’s gonna stay.

Elijah is awesome.  He’s hilarious. He’s two and he thinks Mac is the best thing since Santa Clause.  He doesn’t talk much, but when he does, it’s to parrot Mac.  Which is damned funny too.  Mac’s still getting used to watching his mouth around kids.

The other day, Sara was bending over in the living room to pick something up.  Mac goes, “Damn girl.”  A little while later, Jessica bent over to put her shoe on.  Elijah says, “Damn girl.”  It wasn’t crystal clear, but we all knew exactly what he said.

Especially Mac.

Two very important things you should know about me

My fiance, Morgan, is way too good for me.  

I don't have any money, I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer and I'm not the best lookin' guy she knows. Which means two important things-- I'm hilarious and I'm GREAT in bed.

That's right.  Who cares about being smart?

And here's something cool-- for the rest of my life whenever Morgan introduces me as her husband, the people I'm meeting are going to know that I'm great in bed.  I mean, that's what I would assume about any guy who was with a classy, gorgeous, intelligent woman like Morgan. 

Sure, there's other reasons she loves me, but they don't need to know that.  Seriously, I'm totally fine with this assumption.

The guys are all standing up with me.  Kevin is my Best Man and I'm making Sam, Mac and Ben wear tuxes too.  Morgan's got her sister as her Maid of Honor but she's got Sara, Jess and Dani as bridesmaids.  They all cried when she asked them... of course.  She asked Eve to be her personal attendant too.  Eve's not really a crier but she was touched.  Of course, Dani isn't really a crier either, usually.  But her hormones are way out of whack with this pregnancy thing so you never know how she's going to react to something.  She threw a shoe at Mac the other day.  He totally deserved it, but still pretty out of character for her.  

It was damned funny either way.

Does this tux make my butt look big?

We're almost down to The Day as we're calling it.

All of us guys went in for our tux fittings this morning and since we've all done this a few times over the past couple of years, Sam just told the girl what size he needed instead of having her measure.

Yeah, it didn't fit.

How he didn't realize that he needed a bigger size is the mystery.  Dani's due date is next month.  He's been living with a pregnant woman for months.  A pregnant woman who loves ice cream.  And cookies.  And onion rings.  Sometimes all at the same time.

But Sam was *sure* the girl got the wrong size. Him looking at the tag in the mirror was one of the funniest things I've ever seen.   He was a total girl about it too.  He did *not* want a bigger size and he kept spinning around in front of the mirror trying to convince himself that he looked okay in the tight pants.  And yes, he actually said to Kevin, "do you think these make my ass look fat?"

Kevin said yes.  And, "don't forget that when you're up in front of everyone at the church, your ass is the main thing they'll all be looking at."

Sam muttered, "That's usually a good thing."

Then he said, "Fuck.  Fine."

 He got the bigger size and we all went out for nachos.

I asked Morgan to marry me...

So, I asked Morgan to marry me. 

And she said no.

Okay, to be fair, I asked her to elope with me.  I even had a hot fudge sundae there to help me “convince” her.  And I waited until she was naked.  That’s usually to my advantage when I want to talk her into something.

Yeah, still didn’t work. 

But who can blame me for trying?   I mean, weddings are crazy.  Specifically, wedding planners are crazy.  Who would do that for a living?  Seriously?  This perky little girl needs to understand that I’m not really the type to get all worked up about the type of champagne and what color flowers we need.  She asked me yesterday if I thought we should have plum napkins on ivory tablecloths or ivory napkins on plum tablecloths.  I thought the wedding colors were purple and white.  (When I said that she laughed at me.  Good thing she’s cute.)

Really, all I need is Morgan and an “I do”.  And frankly, I need to get Morgan down the aisle before she figures out that she could do so much better than me.

Then again, I’m not sure how a smart girl like Morgan could possibly not have already realized this. 

So maybe I’ll be okay.  

Valentine's Day... or as we call it, Thursday

See, me and my friends are romantic and sweet and thoughtful and sexy all the time, so Valentine’s Day is just kind of another day for us.

But we know not all guys are as great as us (ie, not all women are as lucky as our girls).  So, since I’ve got access to these guys (and women who will tell it as it is), I figured I might give you guys and girls a few ideas for the big holiday.

The recipe:  Food + Sex = Happy Valentine’s Day.

And don’t even try to tell me that Valentine’s Day shouldn't be all about sex.  Of course it should.  As should Arbor Day, Columbus Day, and Monday-Sundays.

Now, personally, my choice is hot fudge.  It’s simple… you take the hot fudge (make sure it’s not TOO hot) and pretend the other person is the ice cream.  Get it?  And yes, cherries, caramel sauce, marshmallow cream and sprinkles can all make it better.  (Nuts, not so much—those little pieces of peanut can be like gravel on skin.)  I really like sprinkles.  And the hot fudge helps them really stick… just sayin’.  And sure, you can use ice cream too—done that and it was just fine.  (tip:  let it melt down a little-- it will drizzle better).

My buddy Sam wanted to contribute to this post too.  He says, “Melt some butter and pretend you’re both popcorn”. 

Yep, butter all over both of you.  See, none of this is difficult.

I’m going to include Kevin’s too because he’ll pout if I don’t.  (Yes, men can pout. Trust me.)  Kev recommends getting a bag of your favorite candy (jellybeans are a favorite around his house) and then making a candy trail leading from the front door to the bedroom (Ben insists I add “or any room”) and to you—naked except for more strategically placed candy. 

Okay, Morgan is reading over my shoulder here and said not to forget a note.  Doesn’t have to be a fancy card, doesn’t have to be a poem (though naughty limericks or erotic stories are highly encouraged—(that’s from me, if you couldn’t tell)), a heartfelt, handwritten note telling the other person how you really feel is worth more than roses or diamonds.

(And now Sara is making me add that roses and diamonds are absolutely okay too though.  Candlelight dinner, dancing… yeah, yeah, those are great, whatever.  (Boring).)

Let me tell you this right now—guys are easy.  Simple even.  Put on a t-shirt (no panties), curl up in bed with butterscotch schnapps infused whipped cream and tell him that he can lick whipped cream off of wherever he wants every time he says something sweet and romantic.

Everybody wins.

You’re welcome.

I know you're all hoping...

I know you're all hoping this is going to be an advice blog.  Its true I know a lot about women and sex and relationships.  I know, I get it.  And okay, I'll do you a favor here and there and give you some of that too.

But, since my friends think its hilarious that I have a blog, this is also where I'll tell you stories about them.  The more embarrassing the better.

For today though, I'll leave you with this thought:

Being a guy in a new relationship is like being the guy who came up with the first recipe for French toast.

You take a piece of bread that looks like a hundred other pieces of bread you've come across in you life.  It's fine.  Your bologna is better with it than without.  But suddenly you have a great idea-- let's dip this one in a special of mixture of stuff you've never tried before.  And, yeah, sometimes it doesn't work.  I mean, nothing good is going to come of dipping bread in Pepsi.  For example.  (Trust me, I've had some "bread dipped in Pepsi" if you know what I mean).

But once in awhile you get the mixture right and wow, it turns into something new and so much better.

Then you cover it in syrup and... well, everything is better covered in syrup.

Insightful, right?

You're welcome.

That's right... I have a blog

Yeah, yeah, it doesn't really seem like my thing.

But you know what? It so is.  I've got tons of advice, love to tell stories and am, let's face it, pretty damned interesting.

You know you want to read this.  Might as well bookmark it right now.


Dooley