Who needs Vegas when you have lucky undies?

"...And THESE are my lucky socks...and THESE are my lucky undies," husband-head announced, plucking the items out of his dresser drawer.
I watched with interest, wondering how one determined which undergarments brought about good luck.
Then it dawned on me that maybe I should start typing up little fortune cookie messages and sticking them in husband-head's underwear after they came out of the dryer. One saying in particular - which I'd received in my last Chinese food order - struck me as a good one.
"You have unusual equipment for success - use it properly."
But the lucky underwear was part of husband-head's preparation for a long-awaited weekend trip to Las Vegas the next day with five of his buddies.
"Did you pack my spinning SpongeBob toothbrush?" he asked, as I gathered his toiletries together in the bathroom.
"Yes, dear," I assured him. "I put it in with your Shrek shampoo and your diving submarine bath toy."
With that, I also threw in some grown-up aspirin, which is a staple for anyone going on a vacation to Vegas.
Like a kid waiting for the school bus, husband-head stood with his bags on the porch early the next morning when the van full of party-hearty, gambling guys pulled up.
"I promise I won't bankrupt us," he said as he kissed me good-bye.
"That would be nice," I agreed. "And remember, what happens in Vegas...eventually gets back to your wife."
Later that evening, I watched as our two big yellow Labs - Weber and Wyatt - stood anxiously at the door waiting for husband-head to come home.
"Papa will be back in a few days," I consoled them, trying to act like I didn't already miss him as much as they did. "Who wants a COOKIE?"
That distracted them for about 30 seconds, but they continued to look at me with their big, sad eyes, wondering what I'd done to make their papa go away.
"Stop STARING at me!" I begged them in a moment of frustration. "He's coming BACK! I PROMISE!"
Naturally, I was excited when husband-head finally called.
"I haven't robbed the ATM machine yet," he reported proudly. "But don't go on a shopping spree - I'm not winning anything, either."
I wondered if he was wearing his lucky socks and undies.
"Well, everything is fine here, except that the dogs hate my guts," I said honestly. "And frankly, I'm bored. I miss you."
But husband-head was in a jovial mood. He said he was having fun and reminded me that he'd be back in a few days.
However, when he called again the next day, he wasn't quite as upbeat.
"I feel like doo-doo," he admitted. "I stayed up too late and drank way too much. Have you every heard of something called 'Everclear'?"
Indeed I had.
As a former bartender, I know that Everclear is a pure grain alcohol that is 190 proof. I also know that, while husband-head can toss back a few beers with the best of the boys, he is not a big drinker.
"Please tell me you kept your lucky undies on," I said, closing my eyes.
Although - come to think of it - at that proof, there's not much to worry about, except a major headache.
"The aspirin is in your shave kit," I instructed him in my mother voice. "Take a nap and chill out for a while."
In the end, husband-head wound up with some winnings from a football bet, but I could tell he was glad to be back home and the dogs were overjoyed to see him.
"What did you eat?" I asked, not sure what to make him for dinner, as I could only guess what he'd had on his own.
"Ummm...chili cheesedogs, nachos, steak bomb sandwiches..." he informed me.
Just what I thought.
"You haven't had a vegetable in four days, have you?" I said, handing him a bowl of greens. "You don't look so good."
"Yeah, I feel kind of rough," husband-head admitted. "But I had fun. Although I'm sorry I didn't win much money."
So much for the lucky undies.
As I washed the clothes from his trip, I plucked out a pair of briefs from the dryer and inserted one of my Chinese fortunes in them.
"You will get lucky tonight if you stay home."