It is the time of the year where we bid adieu to our Sunday trips to the local outlet malls and Bed, Bath and Beyond. Where, as men, we stop our tofu and salad diets in the name of our loved ones who are repulsed by our manly guts, and turn the grill up to happiness. No more flavored waters, playing cards with the in-laws or going to the zoo with your kids- no, my fellow men, it is Football season. It is the dawning of imported German sausage links, cheap-hardcore domestic manly beers (ok, maybe Light beers, let's be honest, we are a little fat), and the most destructive hard hitting American game filling our heads with fantasy stats, eye-popping hits, and hope for a glorious triumph.
