Going for a Hunter S. Thompson look there, right?
No. It was the Tennessee ’07 game, a 3:30 kickoff, and hot as Satan’s earlobes out there. I don’t wear baseball caps for spiritual reasons, and a bucket hat made the most sense. The shirt’s a gift, too, as I wouldn’t spend a hundred dollars on anything that didn’t beep, whirr, or help me blow virtual things up in style. I plead guilty to ventilating the chest carpet, though. That’s all me, and in that photo, that’s a felony count of fur exposure.
