He woke up in Vegas with a hangover, a rubber ring on his finger, and his hand on a stranger's boob.

There's a boob in my hand. I'm pretty sure of it. My head is absolutely killing me, and I know opening my eyes will mean agony, but there's a warm globe of jiggly goodness in my hand. I squeeze it to double-check. Yes, definitely a boob. But that means … there's a woman in my bed with me. I bring my hands up to rub my eyes, and something catches my eye on my left hand. I'm wearing a black rubber ring on a very significant finger. I glance at the goddess. She's got a bright purple ring on the same digit. She squints at the paperwork on the table and looks up at me. "Gunnar Stag?" I nod. "Um … I think maybe we got married?"