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About Dunedin

Last week, saw this guy on X braggin’ ‘bout his “body count.” Fifty-two! Fifty-two! Like he’s notch-carvin’ his bedpost in 1870s Missouri. “You don’t know me, Bob,” Jesse’d say to that clown. Made me mad—dude’s out here collectin’ STDs like baseball cards. But then, okay, I laughed. Couldn’t help it. Imagined him sittin’ there, pants down, typin’ “wanna smash?” to randos. What a jackass. Humor in the stupidity, I guess.

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Finally, I get my flat white, and it’s glorious. I sit down, and I’m just soaking in the vibe. The barista, a dude named Jake, is cracking jokes, and everyone’s laughing. It’s one of those moments where you just feel good, ya know? But then, outta nowhere, the power goes out. Like, what the heck? The whole café goes dark, and everyone’s like, “Uh, what now?”

Suburban brew pub better than expected