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By: Kevin Lamb

Tomorrow I join my fellow Traveling Wilbury softball mates as we the Magnificent 7 travel to Las Vegas for the annual Winter Softball Meetings. Softball meetings you say? Yes, we Wilbury’s mean business when it comes to our nations past past time, and by George do we have quite the agenda. We will be throwing a weekend long bachelor party for fellow Wilbury Mark Delang. It’s not like that pussy shit you saw in the Hangover, one night of recreational drugs, China-man face fucking, and Phil Collins’ In the Air Tonight courtesy of Mike Tyson. Forget your Hangover, we will sink far under the above average, no good, dirty, rotten, son of a bitch sinner seeking all that the Sin City has to offer.

On top of it all, it’s the AFC NFC Championship weekend! The obvious fear when heading Vegas is premature ejaculation, and by this I mean not having the sobriety, functionality, and energy to go the distance if you will. Adderall is the obvious game saver, or cocaine, but Adderall is risky to fly with, and cocaine, well, for obvious reasons. While shopping at CVS yesterday I browsed for caffeine pills which weren’t available, and then came across 5 hour energy. I purchased a few but with the clusterfuck airports are in there’s no certainty of making it through security with them intact.

We will be staying the MGM Grand which is sick, previously I stayed in Treasure Island, no complaints, but minor leagues in comparison. Often people plan bachelor parties with a scheduled agenda, like my most recent one in Montreal, which was amazing, but full of be here and there’s at this or that time. That’s not the Wilbury style, we have zero agenda, well one, getting fucked up big time. There will undoubtedly be tricks up these gents’ sleeves; we range from 24 to 60, cool, to less cool, wild, to well me. I apologize in advance for all of the fun you will not be having with us in Vegas this weekend. We are an exclusive gaggle of Tetons, refusing to teeter totter the fine line between sane and insane, as we are well south of the Mason Dixon.

If we make back alive I wont be surprised, rather disappointed, but hey, not all dreams can come true. After all, what greater tribute to a lifelong ode of sin then to be beamed up by the mother ship herself.

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