So I just got back from an amazing weekend down in San Diego. I have to say, I totally love San Diego! It's like a nicer and less snobby version of Orange County. I have had some fabulous weekends in San Diego, and let's just say this trip did not disappoint.

I drove down with two of my old friends from High School, Monique and Sasha. We were heading out to celebrate Monique's birthday. The three of us have known each other for a long time and we always have a blast on our road trips. It helps that we're all single.

Thursday night, we took Monique out. I love the gas lamp district and there is this awesome pub called Hank's that we love. Usually they have Karaoke on Thursdays , (I am the reigning karaoke queen by the way,) but this particular night they had an 80's cover band. Luckily unlike most 80's cover bands, they were pretty good!

Walking into the pub was tricky because it was already pretty packed when we arrived. We had just slipped into a booth next to the stage where we could watch all the drunk white boys try to dance, when Monique spotted someone from across the room. (Sometimes I could swear she has x-ray vision.)

"He looks cute! From far away..." She yells over the music, squinting at her prey.

"I guess so..." I reply.

Monique is funny that way. She has way more balls then I do in the sense that she will approach men and start talking to them. My technique is a bit different, I usually wait and have the creepy guys approach me.

I watch in amusement as Monique makes googly eyes with the mystery man across the way. He is sitting alone at a table for four. How convenient.

"We should go sit with him." Monique cries sympathetically

"Go ahead." I tell her.

"Oh, come on," she persists, "let's go talk to him and ask to sit at his table, it will be less noisy over there!"

She had a point. The speakers were right by our table, and ridiculously loud.

"Alright" I compromise, "if you walk up and ask if we can sit with him, I'll sit down."

With a gleam in her eye Monique gets up and walks over to his table. I pretend not to watch as she has a few words with him, and a moment later she waves us over to come join her. This should be interesting...

Sasha and I walk up to where they were sitting and what do you know, the guy is pretty good looking up close! No Mitzvah Making Baby Man, but hey, good enough. Average height, blue eyes, dark hair... OK, on second thought he is REALLY good looking. But why is he alone? That is already suspicious. I wonder if there is a catch, especially because he is so nice. Of course, it is San Diego... I suppose everyone is much nicer down here.

Much to my surprise, Sasha (who is known for her shyness,) starts talking to our new friend. This was fine with me because at that point the band busted out with some Bon Jovi! I love Bon Jovi, so I had to dance.

I grab Monique and she and I start tearing up the dance floor. We didn't return to the table for some time, and when we did Sasha and this fellow were still in pretty deep conversation. She went ahead and introduced us to "Paul." It turns out he is originally from Northern Cali, and was laid off of the Police force up there, so he came down looking to join the San Diego Sheriffs.

Typical. I am a sucker for the men in uniform. Especially when he continues with his life's story, filling us in on how he's been taking all these exams to join the force, and he was so stressed that he decided to brave the cold streets of San Diego on his own, and now he was glad he did...because he got to meet such extraordinarily beautiful women!!!

Well, I can't really argue with that one.

We talk, we dance, and after a bit I notice what I REALLY hoped was a bachelor party walk through the door. Not because I had my eye on them, but because of their uniform.

Ten of these getting down and dirty. For real.

Imagine this: Ten men all dressed in really bad 70's style suits and rocking giant fake mustaches, (pornstaches?) The guy I assume was the groom is parading around the pub wearing a powder blue 70's prom tuxedo and holding a lamp. Yes, a lamp.

Can you blame me for staring? The guys soon start drinking and 'dancing.' They have the best moves I have ever seen for drunken 70's porno star wannabe's!

Naturally they are now the center attraction of this pub. Everyone is watching them dance (so horribly,) including us. After a while, I started to wish I was friends with them... they were having a blast! SO entertaining.

Just then one of my favorite songs came on and I started singing along with it, which seemed to distract the bachelor party enough for them to coerce Monique and I to join them to dance.

Next thing I know, there I am with this adorable Daniel Craig lookalike, in a horrible tweed sports jacket and turtle neck. I did not resist as he grabbed my hand and pulled me over to dance with him and his mustache. His equally adorable friend who was adorned in a rust-colored suit ensemble, topped off with white shoes grabbed Monique and the next thing you know we are all up and dancing, (very, very badly,) to Duran Duran's Hungry like the Wolf.

Daniel Craig and I are just dancing it up with all these big gawky spins and slides and wolf claw hand motions. Cute with a sense of humor? Nothing better. These guys are hilarious and I am having so much fun. When the song ends, I thank Mr. Craig for the dance, and ask what they're doing out tonight.

"It's an anchorman themed bachelor party." He informs me.

Thank God. I was right, it was a bachelor party!

Daniel Craig continues, "I don't normally have a mustache!"

"Oh, is it real? Did you grow it out for tonight?" I inquire.

"Kind of, I partially grew it out and my girlfriend filled in the rest." He tells me.

"Well it looks great! Have fun tonight!" I tell him as I turn to sit back down.

Was I disappointed that Daniel Craig had a girlfriend? For once, no not really. I was really happy that he mentioned her, and that he danced very appropriately with me. He's obviously a good guy. Which would make her a lucky girl.

The rest of the night was fabulous and we bonded some more with our new friend Paul. Especially after he came to my rescue when this really creepy bald man with a sweater wrapped around his waist tried to hit on me while I was dancing. Honestly, I really have no idea what his thought process was. "If I tie a sweater around my waist, then I'll be extra sexy!" Not.

Paul scored some major points with that, as well as when he told us how sweet and special we were and that we all deserve great guys. This is very true. He recommended that we make sure to look for guys over thirty because twenty-something guys are "controlled by their hormones and cannot be held responsible for their actions and for the fact they want to sleep with anything that moves."

My mother tells me the same thing. And it may make a lot of sense but I still don't buy the whole 'victim of my hormones, I have no control,' line. I mean we all have control of our bodies, surely? Well, Tiger Woods might disagree.

It's very interesting the conversations you have with people in the middle of a pub and after a few drinks.

In the wee hours of the morning we ended back up at our hotel after saying goodbye to Paul. He was great, but I'm pretty sure that nothing will ever top dancing with the anchormen. I have a feeling I'll be telling this story for a while...

Next week I'll be sharing about my latest visit to the Temple on Shabbat... where of course, nothing can ever go according to plan...