When the Red Sox last made the World Series in 2013, Papa Giorgio and I were liquored up every night and hungover every morning. Our third roommate, god bless his heart, was a bartender right outside of Fenway so we would show up, throw down a $20 and just drink until the cows came home.
Now? I’m on the doorstep of 30 and guzzling coffees at night just to stay awake for the game. And I’m pretty jazzed to head up north for a little wine tasting at a vineyard tomorrow afternoon I don’t know how and I don’t know when, but I have become Will Ferrell in Old School.
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