So we're in the limo with beer and soda and Vanilla Wafers, obviously heading for San Diego. I don't know what our ultimate destination is, but when the groom-to-be asks the best-man-to-be, he only says, "You'll see."

We get off the 5 in Pacific Beach and pull right into the parking lot of "Les Girls." Heh. I've seen this place before 'cause there's a Rally Burger right across the street, but I've never been inside. The driver lets us out and the best man tells him to be back in an hour.

So we all wander inside, pay the cover and walk past a very, very big bouncer. The room is small, dark, smoky, and has high-backed benches arrayed in rows -- maybe five or six of them -- in front of the stage. There are some marines in the front row, staring quietly at a very limber young woman, performing in front of them. She's completely naked and obviously not allowed to move off the raised, recessed part of the stage. Some random pop music is playing as she wraps her knee behind her neck and does an impressive assortment of splits.

The first thing I think is, "Well, this certainly objectifies women."

I need to get out more often.