Dead Man Walking

After this past weekend I know what Keith Richard’s liver feels like. I and ten other hell-bent drunks braved the wilds of North Federal Boulevard and Steamboat Springs for a bachelor party weekend that sent Nels off to the marriage gallows in grand drunken fashion. I will spare you the details of the weekend as they are mostly laborious accounts of steak dinners, inebriated heroics and vulgar slurs of grandiose proportions directed at one party-goers Denver Bronco Cheerleader sister. The entire bachelor party shared their sexual fantasies surrounding said sister during the entire weekend (mostly after the aforementioned party-goer threatened to inflict physical harm). My favorite fantasy included Shannon Elizabeth, a sponge and a bathtub filled with hot fudge. It is amazing what three motivated drunk people can accomplish on Howelsen Hill with a crude sledding device. Me being one of said drunk people (and just in case someone in Steamboat Springs law enforcement or my mother is reading this) all I will say about the incident is this: that was some fun shit.

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