My Vegas Inspired Column

Sorry I can't talk about Vegas.

Dear Mr. Macon Out,

I’m getting married in a few months, and I’ve had this bug that makes me want to party all the time, party all the time, party all the time. I’ve begun to wonder if it just a phase I’m going through due to my impending marriage, or if I’ve really begun to find my groove. By the way, I’m 35 years of age.
Signed,
Young and in the way
Dear YAITW
If you’re thirty-five, your groove took a train to Desperateville a long time ago, bud. I hate to tell you. Sure, no matter how old you are, it’s normal to want to “drop it like it’s hot” one last time before you lock your penis up for good. But there really is no such thing as “getting it out of your system”. If something feels good, it’s the nature of man to want more of it. The only one’s who will say different are those who have been married long enough to give up, or those who’ve dedicated themselves to a God too uptight for my doggystyle. How can you tell if this marriage is going to work? Man, if there is any doubt anywhere in that little head of yours, move on brother. No matter what Richard Gere says, this is your only shot, so get it right.
Dear Mr Macon Out,

I just spent a weekend in Vegas, drank God knows how much, and rarely even stopped to eat. By the time I got home, I’d lost 5 pounds, and felt great. Should I just try and live on beer alone?
Signed,
Bleeding from my face
Dear Bleeding,
There have been many a great man that have lived off of beer, whiskey cigarettes, and the occasional slab of red meat. John Wayne is rumored to have never eaten more than a hand size piece of elk flesh at one sitting. Want to know why Charles Bronson doesn’t even think Chuck Norris is a man? Try putting gunpowder in your peppermill. Though still a great man, Redd Foxx lived off champipple and crackers. It can be done, and what better place to find that out than Las Vegas, that great flashing dohickee in the desert. The only time I went to Vegas, I ended up turning into a lizard, scurrying up about 300 strippers legs at the Spearmint Rhino, and falling in love with a black-jack dealer named Rob, who verbally abused me without pause, but hey we all experiment, right? So see where this goes, and let me know when you get there. Hopefully it won’t be in a ditch next to Christian Slater.
Dear Mr Macon Out,
Why can’t my wife be more like my close male friends?
Signed, Gutter Trash
A better question might for you might be: Why can’t I marry my close male friends? Fag.
Women don’t have to be like our close male friends. They have vaginas. But let’s consider what being a close friend really means. In order to be a real close buddy with someone I’d say three basic things have to happen.
#1. You’ve got to go through some bad shit together. This could include fights, drugs, money laundering, or about 100 good old-fashioned drunks.
#2. You have to go to bat for each other. This could include being a top-notch wingman on a date, taking up for one another when some cock-a-doodle douche is talking crapola about your buddy even when they aren’t around. It lets you know how much you love your buddy.
# 3. Never leave a man behind—Hoo-Ah! This has to be proven several times. You have to sacrifice what you want in order that your buddy, no matter how lame, doesn’t suffer so that you can have fun. It’s the law… I’m sorry.
These are all things that women just don’t do. This is why we have to compensate for our marriages by loving games that we will never again play (college football) and killing animals that we’ll never eat. The long lost happy place of male companionship will live forever in empty space. I think Gary Busey said that.

Friday I leave For Las Vegas

Tomorrow, I head out to a town that made Christmas lights famous, and made me puke once when I almost had to go see Celine Dion, Las Vegas. I'm going with several dudes from Macon and we're celebrating a friend's upcoming marriage. Part of me wants to just sit in the desert and eat Peyote, but we've got a Cabana at Pure so what can a man do? I'll let you know how it goes..

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