I had a fun start of the week in Cadillac, MI with some friends where we found joy in collecting firewood, starting fires, and reciting this 1991 commercial for the Chicagoland favorite Mr. Sub.

A dog at one point joined us, who was incredibly mangy and old, and who I think was really just a homeless-hippie-werewolf that was waiting to turn back into a homeless-hippie. I think at one point he may have asked us for spare change with his barks, which was very impressive.

I ate at Culver’s on the way home from the trip. I got this Moutain Dew Chill thing that was pretty great looking, but upon taste was deathly sour. It had to be like fourteen cans of M.D. condensed into one slurpee texture. It ended up melting in the car on the way home while I watched season two of Arrested Development.

Culver’s should really think about just throwing cocaine on their menus. Have a line with every bite of butterburger. Those two vices service each other very well. And cocaine doesn’t melt unless you burn it. Right?

Ending, in the words of Scottie Pippen about his lacking skill of sub eating, “ThisisonesixfooterIcan’thandleladieslet’shaveaparty.”