Dan H. wants vacation advice.

My wife bought me a three-day vacation in Vegas for next month. She knew I needed a break and she wanted to spend some quality time with our two boys.  My question to you is, should I go by myself or should I see if any of my friends want to tag along?

I have some friends that might be able to go and I’m sure we would have fun BUT the thought of getting to spend three days by myself is awfully tempting. You both have children so you understand how little alone time we get on a daily basis.

Ed:

First of all, A+ in the wife department, Dan. Only a quality woman would give the weekend pass and, on top of that, give the weekend pass to Vegas. Couples that do everything together quickly hate each other. Time apart is as important as time together. A few days away from the kids is pivotal for overall mental health.

As for being by yourself for a few days, I’m conflicted. I love being by myself. One of the underreported things about having kids is you never get to be by yourself – not even on the can. So, anytime I get a chance, I take it. Whether it’s the movies, sporting events, going to a bar solo, even a few weddings, I’m happy to fly solo. But Vegas could be tough.

Just like eating alone or drinking alone, the rate of consumption is exponentially higher when there’s no one else there to slow you down. There’s nobody to bounce off of. There’s nobody to comment about the terrible fake yam job across the craps table. There’s nobody to count the number of jorts being worn. There’s nobody to slow down the bleeding when you’re taking a beating at blackjack. Vegas by yourself could be a rapid fall into the depths of hell. By 4:00am on night one, you’ve reached your ATM withdrawal limit, maxed out all credit cards, and are doing speedballs with strippers near a dumpster behind Spearmint Rhino. Vegas can be a lot of fun but you’re better off practicing the buddy system.

Then again, you might be one of those spend-the-day-by-the-pool guys. If that’s the case, I can’t help you. Between boredom and my pasty, Irish skin, lying around in the sun (beach or pool) is about as fun to me as high school calculus.

 

Brian:

Don’t bogart the Vegas, Danny boy. Are you trying to go out like Nic Cage? Just because your special lady is all kinds of chill doesn’t mean that you get to hoard the good times like Francis Buxton.

Sure, it would be nice to kick it solo poolside with a well-worn copy of Infinite Jest and a frosty-cold Heineken lager, but alas, yours is a bigger burden. You have despondent buddies whose lives have deteriorated to the point that they actually look forward to things like Little League practices and “hanging with the neighbors.” Your browbeaten bros are in a slow-motion death spiral littered with three-hour dance recitals and cases of Costco TP all the while being serenaded by a Saturday morning lawnmower symphony. You have the opportunity to be the magnetic pull that frees one of your miserable mates from the orbit of Planet Bitch and you’re considering going alone? THIS ISN’T ABOUT YOU, DAN. Do your duty. Make that call.

 

 

Chris P. wants to talk underwear.

Can we get a ruling on the proper undergarment for a man? I grew up on briefs (tighty whities), ditched them for boxer briefs at the beginning of high school, and was in regular boxers by the time I graduated. My preferred type is the knit boxer. They are comfortable and breathe much better than their counterpart, the traditional woven boxer. Thank you in advance for your input.

Ed:

Like every guy, I also started on tighty whities. The ending was a little sooner than yours though. In middle school, I had a lecherous gym teacher who forced us to shower after each class. Aside from the fact that piece-of-shit Mr. Measley should’ve been sent to jail for watching 12-year olds shower, the big revelation from that class is some guys had moved on to boxers. You never want to be the last guy in the room wearing briefs. For the past quarter century, I’ve been a regular boxers guy.

I’ve tried the others but with subpar results. Gave boxer briefs a shot once but, let’s face it, boxer briefs are just for guys who like undergarments smashing their balls but don’t want to feel like an old man. Right before college I dabbled with a pair of silk boxers, thinking it would be cool. One morning of wearing them and it was like having a thong. Those things slid upward with every step. They were in the garbage by lunch. I’ve also dabbled in knit boxers but feel they sometimes would creep up on one side for no reason.

So I’m a boxers man. I like them about two sizes too big. Plenty of room in there. What I want most out of underwear is to barely feel it’s there. Most of them have goofy pictures on them like reindeer, stick figures fighting, or today’s pair, bananas with the phrase “Peeling Good!”Don’t you dare fucking judge. My body. My choice.

 

Brian:

For me the proper choice of undies now and forever will be “none.” Look, I’m not saying I don’t occasionally rock a pair of briefs with jeans, or boxers with a suit, but my day-to-day, go-to undergarment is a none-dergarment. From an early age my genitals have eschewed encumbrance, and really who am I to stuff them into a cotton cage? Have you seen Blackfish? Shamu is forced to live in a world that’s way too small and uncomfortable. Sea World is an asshole, I am not. Free the orcas, and your balls.

 

Dave asks an important question.

What is the worst?

Ed:

Glad you asked, Dave. That would be the movie Avatar.

 

Brian:

Good question, Dave. It’s actually one of two things: clamshell packaging or the Dave Matthews Band.

Geriatric NASCAR drivers, minor league baseball assault, coroner drops a body in the road, Portia and Ellen on the rocks, How Fucking Old Is This Guy and The Bachelorette fantasy suites. WE’RE THE SPORTS SHOW OF RECORD.