We used to have a cat named Jack. Jack was a sly, slow-moving, long-haired Persian that would rarely come when called, but if you put out a small bowl of vanilla ice cream, out of nowhere he would magically appear. This is sort of how my dad is with meatballs. All I have to do is say, “Dad, I’m making meatballs,” and he’s half-way out the door on the way over. He loves these.
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Shared by RachelCarlsberg’s stab at marketing a beer towards women that they considered to be “gender neutral,” then prepare to lose your shit over “Chick Beer.” The pink-and-black, polka-dotted bottle that comes in a six-pack box designed in the shape of a purse is targeting that coveted 25% of beer sales attributed to women. More »