“Oh lord! Won’t you buy meeee a Mercedes-Benz. My friends all drive Porsches. I must make amends!”
For all my visits to The Gage and all my complaining that not enough restaurants and bars offer cool alcohol-free drinks on their adult drinks menus, I didn’t try their specialty sodas until recently.
A refreshing recipe with a homemade syrup that’s as easy as that warm spring breeze (finally!). Justin and I talk about the “Roseanne reboot,” banned words, and the dynamics of coffee shops as public spaces and what’s reasonable to expect as a customer (or, as in a recent case, a non-customer).
Michael McCormack’s new book began as a letter of complaint to his father, who was a world champion football player (Cleveland ftw! For once!), NFL coach, and hall of famer. As he wrote, though, it turned into something much bigger.
A professional wrestling rumble may be the land of the body slam, but following a bout of the rumblies in my tummy, I found it to be an surprisingly cathartic reminder of how important body love can be. … Also, there was a “street fight” a la The Wrestler with Mickey Rourke. So that was fucking rad.