We're off to Vegas tonight for the annual father-daughter bet every single game the first four days of the NCAA tournament and ignore everything else in life extravaganza.
In some ways this trip will be different, the daughter no longer required to walk around between games wearing a sandwich board to advertise her availability.
That's right, the contest was a success and I've found a son-in-law I just love.
I realize he still has to go on a first date with the daughter without Page 2 as chaperon, but I've already e-mailed Janice, the kid's mother, to discuss how we will divvy up the holidays now that they will be getting married.
"We might as well be on first name basis since we will have the nuptials soon," writes Janice. "Grandma and I will have to get cracking on making a quilt for the newlyweds as that is one tradition we have begun. My best to my future daughter-in-law."
Now before I get to Phil Jackson's MVP choice, and the MGM Mirage bookmaker and his tournament picks, I'd like to thank the three guys I took out on dates this past week.
There was Neb, arriving in this country only a few years or hours earlier, who says he's a Siberian, Serbian or Suburban -- a little difficult to say given his accent.
He came dressed as Johnny Cash, which was a nice touch, and said he was looking for a green card, or to make it even easier to stay here, a wife. He said there are places on the web where you can pay $5,000 for a wife -- pretty cheap given my experience.
Then there was David, the attorney, who kept saying, "strike that" while telling us about himself. He brought flowers, offered to pay for dinner and was willing to sit there all night or as long as it took to tell us all about his ex-girlfriend and the three husbands his mother has had.
Mike was the winner, though, even his bowling average climbing from 218 to 219 in the two hours we had dinner.
He didn't seem to have any interest in talking to Page 2, other than inquiring about a dowry and made no effort to pick up the bill. I already have one of those son-in-laws, but he kept the daughter awake, made her laugh and she even put down her fork.
I don't know of any other man who has ever made her do that.
Now I don't know if you have daughters, but if you do, just imagine the repercussions if repeatedly calling her in the paper, "the daughter who can't get a date."
What are the chances she'd being joining you in Vegas?
