So today is our first official day as employees of Barstool Sports. We got our quaint little 150 square foot Ukrainian Village office where we’re gonna be hammering the keys giving our hot takes on Chicago sports and pop culture from now until rapture, and we’ve made it into our home. I love this place for the simple fact that it’s legit 2 blocks from me. We’ve all seen how good of an arm I have – give me a week to get my arm strength up playing a little long toss and I could pepper our office from my apartment.

That said, today I woke up and for the first time in my life, I was excited to go to work. It’s truly a surreal feeling enjoying what you do.

Anyways, I wake up, shit/shower/shave, and it dawned on me: I no longer have a dress code. Another surreal feeling. So what do I wear? You bet your ass I threw on a pair of sweats. And I did it thinking I’d walk into the office and get SMOKED for perpetuating internet blogger stereotypes. Wrong. Wrong.

Literally all of us strolled into the office wearing sweats as if we were about to kick it on a Sunday afternoon and binge watch 14 episodes of the Sopranos:

On top of that, I drove to work this morning. I was out late last night kicking it with Rear Admiral and a few guys after the Winter Classic and just didn’t feel like walking 400 feet down the road. I drove to to a building 2 blocks away and took the last parking spot. Carl was legitimately in awe that I pulled that move.

And then we went and ate Italian beefs and hot dogs across the street. I got back to the office and came to a realization:

I’m a fat. Chief’s a fat. Eddie’s a fat. And Carl’s a fat.

Now Carl is the only one who has a built in excuse because he’s married and married people are allowed to be fat. The rest of us are in our primes however, and there’s no excuse for not only perpetuating internet blogger stereotypes, but Chicago/Midwest stereotypes as well.

And at 5’10”, and officially 200 pounds, I do that. I apologize to all those who look up to me. I’ve put on 15 pounds in the last 3-4 months. Disgusting, and I’m sorry for letting you all down. #InternetBloggersLivesMatter

Now I know this may come as a shock to you, as I did in fact complete the 2017 Bank of America Chicago Marathon in 5 hours and 25 minutes, yada yada big fucking deal. But I’ve slipped a little bit this fall. Consuming Italian beefs and pizza by the truckload will put the bad weight on you.

So myself, Chief, Eddie and Carl are going to join a boxing gym, and in 2019 we’re gonna get hot as shit. I’m talking a 90 degree sauna old school style boxing gym so we can shed off this excess weight and fuck up 2019. Rocky is a fucking half-whitted loser and I wish Drago would have sent him by way of Adonis Creed, but that’s the style boxing gym we’re in the market for:

So if you own a swank ass gym anywhere in Chicago city limits and would like to help 4 bloggers, 3 of which are so unathletic they can hardly walk and myself who’s a finely tuned genetic masterpiece hand crafted by god himself, hit us up @redlineradio