If you're like me, spring only means one thing: darties, day drinks, dages - whatever you want to call them.
I enjoy a good party as much as the next guy, but there is something different about that first sip of lukewarm Busch Light at noon. Does it taste good? Is it enjoyable? Hell fucking no. But that’s what it takes to get the day started.
You could place brunch-goers and dartiers in the same category: a quirky and edgy personality trait used to cover up alcoholism and being blacked out by 2 P.M.
I choose to see it in a different light.
Day drinking is a competitive sport that takes more stamina than a triathlon. You need the pace of Lance Armstong on the Tour de France while maintaining the energy of Pauly D at Seaside (the one in Jersey, duh).
You need to be willing to wake up hours earlier than you’d prefer and leave everything you have out on the combination of dead grass and dirt that your landlord calls a “backyard.”