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Pab Puss

No content barrier on the TouchTunes so you can play Ween

If there's a guy in a sleeveless hi-viz t-shirt ripping cigs out front, it's probably a good bar. No relation, btw.

I feel like calling into the podcart about this

On @stuffaboutmpls.bsky.social’s birthday too.

I am going to spatchcock and oven-roast the Limu Emu.

Olivia Miles goes between the legs on a drop pass to Kayla McBride for 3

*takes long drag off cigarette, exhales slowly* “Heard tell of a man. More a rumor than a man, I suppose. Some call him Norm, but that ain’t his true name, I reckon. You may as well try to name the wind and the rain. All’s I know, he might be what we need right now.” *takes another drag*

You know how you can read something and immediately realize it will rattle around your brain pan until you croak? Anyway:

In 1975, a band from Scotland crafted the definitive rock song chorus for fighting with your stepdad: "Now you're messing with a/A son of a bitch." It's the vital, ditchweed anthem of dirtbagcore, a genre I just made up.

your partying is getting out of control, bill

cannot believe they're putting this kinda sex appeal on during the family hour

I would make it my life’s goal to strip her church of its tax exemption

The Spesh is elemental to dirtbagcore

My definition of dirtbagcore, the spiritual predecessor of buttrock:

In 1975, a band from Scotland crafted the definitive rock song chorus for fighting with your stepdad: "Now you're messing with a/A son of a bitch." It's the vital, ditchweed anthem of dirtbagcore, a genre I just made up.

My mentor 300 lifetimes ago: Incantations aren’t meant to be said with ease. In uttering the words, you give of yourself. You wince in pain, knowing that suffering’s seed blooms into power’s bounty. Me now: Can I please get the Gobble That Thang Turkey Melt, O-O-Open-Face, please. Lovefunk Style.

Michele Tafoya commercials are now airing during the dinner hour, so if you are in MSP and want a discount GLP-1…