Go to Vegas they said it will be fun they said and apparently, what happens in Vegas doesn't stay in Vegas. Who knew. What I do know is that the morning I'm set to fly back home, I wake up in someone else's hotel room with the mother of all hangovers, no memory of the night before, and freaking sore in places I never was before. It's not until I'm on my plane heading home that it hits me. I freaking married him last night. That husband I married, I have no idea who he actually is except his first name. I'm in so much trouble. Did I mention I'm never drinking whiskey again?