Here I sit, a middle-aged man in an old WIVK "We Believe!" t-shirt, orange knee socks, and a pair of Vol gym shorts with a rip up the back-side seam in case the neighbors want to check the color of my underwear. I haven't had a drink in 12 hours, and I'd still probably fail a breath test... in Russia. I'm currently entertaining thoughts involving a group of college boys named after lizards that's pretty much got to qualify as the world's first case of beastiality without an erection.
Tell me why again the Gators shouldn't be scared of us?