In a little more than 12 hours, I'll be rolling into the tee-ex for the holidays. I just hope my parents have figured out that my request for breakfast tacos after my red-eye flight automatically includes "with a side of Lone Star."
Actually, scratch that... I just got off the phone with my dad. Not only is he greeting me at the airport with said tacos in hand, but asked if 11am would be too early for a drink.
Thank you, Paul Webb. You may be the only man in the world who will ever truly understand me.
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