
Another Sunday, another ulcer. The Bears lose, my neighbors think we’re killing each other, and I’m surviving on Tums and tequila like it’s a balanced diet. Forget new quarterbacks—Halas should cover therapy sessions and alcohol counseling for every fan still masochistic enough to watch. Continue reading

What starts as a simple Target run for shampoo and deodorant quickly unravels into a full-blown adventure: the misleading “Dollar” Spot, hypnotic endcaps, the siren call of office supplies, and an Ulta detour that ends with unexpected lip gloss. Proof that no one escapes Target unscathed, or under budget. Continue reading
