Last year I took on a major challenge and journeyed with my mother to Las Vegas for some good ole r and r. Although punctuated by some very awkward situations—namely when Mom met a shirtless Carrot Top at Hard Rock and was then forced into a poolside conversation about boob jobs by our waitress—it was an unqualified success.

So this year, a few friends and I took on another Vegas challenge. We hit Vegas to throw a bachelor party for a Groomzilla. Yes, truly, a man who lies awake at night stressing about floral arrangements. But that’s not the only catch: Groomzilla wanted a bachelor party cleaner and as PG as a Singapore Disneyland. SNAP!

Could a group of men from LA pull off such a feat? Or is a Vegas bachelor a foregone conclusion . . . .

Here is a photo essay of our trip. Judge for yourself.

Groomzilla insisted on booking the hotel for the weekend. No Las Vegas strip hotel. “Too pricey,” he had said, and so we ended up at The Desert Rose Resort, a quaint hotel off the strip next to the Hooters Casino. You may scoff at his frugal ways, but check out the happy-hour vibe. What a lair of sin!

And check out the performer’s signage. Yes, she’s straddling her keyboard on a hotel bed. Totally hot.

One of the members of our bachelor party is a Blue Man, so we scored some discount tickets to the big show.

This avid fan paid more than $60 for the painting created in the evening's performance.

Post-show, I walked up to girls in the Venetian Casino, asking if they wanted to meet a real life Blue Man out of costume. Most girls snarled at me, most likely because I was wearing a metro sexual squirrel shirt, but these two girls from Tahoe and their three friends took my bait hook, line, and sinker. Here they are examining our Blue Man’s ID. Nice work, Anderson.

At 4 a.m., one might find most bachelor parties at a strip club, but with our Blue Man hookup we found ourselves in the bowels of the Venetian rocking the Blue Man practice instruments and catching marshmallows in our mouth.

I had wanted to be breakfasting with our Tahoe friends at Treasure Island, but the Groomzilla thought we needed time to keep it real between us guys. Thanks, man. Girls are so over-rated compared to PVC pipes.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .