Agreed.

If she was a man, she’d be a Master Bader.

Hops shmops.

From now on, it’s Magic Man and No Diablo.

Be nice if they actually asked the restaurants if they wanted this information shared.

While I’m sure it’s a lovely place, sangria doesn’t go well in Poughkeepsie.

Sangria is one of those drinks that deserves all the love, because it usually means that it’s been shared with a group, as opposed to those handlbar mustache foofy craft cocktails that are the selfies of adult beverages.

Tell me why-eeeeeee.

Forgot an ingredient: Your momma.

Instant Pot...

The guy running the joint is named COOK, fer crissakes.

Hurts to even read that.

After throwing my nose up at bubbly water (yes, an anti-sparkling snob who drinks tap), I chastised myself recently for my narrow thinking and bought a case of Perrier in a bottle at Costco on a whim.

Swoon.

From that woman? With that sweet smile?

“Taste of the Apocolypse?”

Mmmmmm. Quality Joles.

This is like watching two turds fight it out in the bowl.

At some point, we can’t keep treating awards shows as anything other than an elaborate conspiracy of marketing.

Yeah, but Fudgems.