“Reek eyed the hot dog. It was topped with yellow mustard, chopped white onions, bright green sweetpickle relish, a dill pickle spear, tomato slices or wedges, pickled sport peppers and a dash of celery salt. But not, thank the Many-Faced God, with ketchup. That obscenity would be too much to bear.”

This is like the time me and some buddies were driving down to Buffalo to see a Sabres game. We all met up at my buddy Aidan’s house and we were about to get in the car and, with it clearly in sight, I called Shotgun. Clear rules, right?

Tricky thing, walking when you’re on the verge of shitting your pants. Gotta move fast, but can’t allow too much separation of the cheeks. Keep’em firm and get a nice shuffle going.

I would estimate conservatively that 25% of my usable kitchen cabinet space is occupied by kids’ water bottles. Of those water bottles, maybe 15 - 20% are actively being used. It makes me bonkers. The other day, I pulled out a sliding shelf to get at some tupperware and about 8 water bottles fell back behind the…

OOHHHH Let’s see how this goes for you!

If you’re new to Grant’s work, I put together a playlist of the Husker songs of his I liked best, plus a couple of solo tracks. Pairs well with straight corn liquor. https://t.co/7jRO7Or9yE

You don’t hear him yell the thing Bennett said he yelled! That obviously means he’s lying!

We believe some people without any evidence, and don’t believe others without all the evidence in the world.

I see the Greys that respond to me, but I don’t see free-range Greys.

And Moby Dick could stop at “I want to catch a whale.”

There are classy sit-down restaurants in Pittsburgh called Franktuary, where they only serve hot dogs and assorted side dishes.

Meanwhile, Rooney presided over one of the most drug-addled franchises in the sport, and he once excused James Harrison’s wife-beating because Harrison wanted to baptize his kid and his wife didn’t.

Next up: Atlanta Falcons.

He’s a coma surviving, ambulance-ridin, doctors orders abidin’, nurse kissing, still-alive son-of-a-bitch!

Ah yes, Rick Flair. I remember his classic matches with Hank Hogan and Andrew the Really Tall Guy.

Chris

If I were him I’d go to the worst team in the CFL (The Saskatoon Snow Ferrets? The Halifax Poutines?) and offer to play for free. Go out there secure in the knowledge that only like 20 people are watching you on any given Sunday (Saturday? Wednesday?) and that the worst thing that could possibly happen to you if you…

I know Baltimore already took down the confederate statues in the dead of night, but if any of y’all in the city still have some ropes, some elbow grease and a desire to topple something repulsive...

I’m sendin you to Jesus