April and Ryan are Gettin' Hitched

LAS VEGAS -- Please meet 100-percent weapons-grade Cow. At some point there will be pictures and a semi-full recap of the bachelor party weekend (though Baer's not yet posted bachelorette photos, so maybe I should hold out), but for now let's focus on the Cow, capital C.

After running up something like a $360 bar tab at the pool at Paris on Saturday (easier than you'd think), dinner for the group of 13 was reserved at BOA Steakhouse, nestled gently in the side of Caesar's Palace, not far from where Pete Rose seems to be signing autographs in perpetuity.

On the menu, that piece of meat to the right is listed as Premium Japanese Wagyu. Price: MKT. MKT = $16/oz., "minimum 6 oz.," our waiter said.

Why so much? The Wagyu cow is well taken care of. It's raised in a mansion, given only the best beers and bourbons and massaged three times daily by Geishas in possession of the Orient's most flavorful oils.

Then it's slaughtered and shipped to the desert.

To the right you'll see 8 oz., of Premium Japanese Wagyu. That's $128 worth of Cow.

And it was worth it. Man, was it worth it.

I mean it was really, really worth it.

As for the rest of the weekend, here's a photo of my friend James holding a banana in front of the Eiffel Tower. That's pretty representative.


They came from far and farther last weekend. Some were sick. Some were in trouble with their wives. I can't thank them all enough.

Okay, two more photos. From Friday's tour of the Neon Sign Graveyard. On the left, my dad, me and my brother. On the right, the reason we were all there, sort of. Not pictured: My hangover. (Click on pictures for clearer images.)