Bills Fall To The Pats, I Fall Further Into (Self Medicated) Depression

That’s me, “resting” at the girlfriend’s parent’s house, all of whom are Patriots fans.  Yeah, notice the placement of my Bill’s hat.  Here I am, looking like the world’s worst prom date.  Like my beloved Bill-skis (no body circles the wagons, Leather) I’m all Swedish, no Finnish.  Even my dog has decided to mount me, and hump me into submission, like the rest of the NFL has done to Western New York’s finest since 1994.