Unlike my girl Diana, this is not the sweetest hangover – this is the WORST kind of hangover!
It’s not brought on by copious amounts of Yuengling and Makers Mark.
It’s not accompanied by the Stride of Pride.
It’s not cured by greasy food.
It’s not something that gets worse with age.
It’s a hangover that only comes with the harsh realization… football is OVER until Fall. Continue reading