Football is back baby. That’s right, after months of Covid, we the people, can finally enjoy the sweet nectar that is Sunday football. As jubilant as I am that my Panthers are slinging the pigskin again…. I’ve realized something. My Sundays are now gone. Sure, I had a blast yesterday shoveling bush light and corn dogs down my meat hole for 8 straight hours. However, I neglected to recall how horrible Monday mornings were in my cubicle just pooping my sins out from the night before. My adult Sundays are officially gone until the end of December as Elon DeGeneres has a better shot of getting her show back than the Panthers snagging a wild card spot. Any-hoo. My blissful Sundays of enjoying a small batched cold brew, followed with meal prepping, laundry and the occasional bubble bath with a glass of vino are put on pause. Nay, Sunday now consistent of waking up and defiling myself until the break of dawn, yo. Here’s to us my jockeys, the true cubicle crusader’s who treat football Sunday’s like a Friday night. Defy Monday jockeys, here’s to a long and fruitful football season.
Happy f***ng Monday.