My Mom Can Beat Your Dad In Fantasy Football

I don’t want to blog about menopause and how it is a soul sucking monster that reanimates every skeleton in your closet into a zombie apocalypse of brain gnoshing abattoirs, rendering you incapable of producing simple nouns, therefore I will take this opportunity to inform you of how I am crushing my Fantasy Football league. I reside alone in first place amongst my astonished co-workers who saw me merely as a part time personal trainer and a stay at home mom who surely knows little of the NFL.

What they didn’t know is that deep from within my lair at Pad & Quill world headquarters, I have multi-tasked digesting hours of ESPN radio and fantasy football analysis on my iPhone. Couple this with a somewhat unhealthy obsession with the game, that took root in Denver, November of 1977, when Craig Morton lead a comeback victory over the dreaded Oakland Raiders, pushing the Broncos to our first AFC Championship and Superbowl trip versus the Dallas Cowboys. I’ve learned

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