I have been enthralled with a now six-part saga on Instagram of a parents group chat in which one Mom is asking the other Moms not to send Oreos in their kids’ lunches because she doesn’t allow her daughter to eat Oreos. It’s incredible.

Bud Light spokesperson Shane Gillis at a soccer game with a Dos Equis in his cupholder... All of a sudden he's unexpectedly on camera... And seconds later someone from off camera hands him a Bud Light 🤣

Shane Gillis Told His Doctor How Much He Drinks in a Week—The Doctor Thought He Was Joking Because His Answer Was Insane ROGAN: "There are people that have unreal tolerances like Shane with booze. It's unreal." "When you see him pound 16 Bud Lights and not a slur, not a stammer. It's nothing. Doesn't miss a beat. Puts the sunglasses on. Starts getting crazy. Like we do Protect Our Parks and he'll have a stack of empties at the end. You're like, 'That is insane. You should be dead. You should literally be dead.'" DEROSA: "My favorite Shane story ever. Ever. I don't mean to tell his story, but this is my favorite Shane story ever. And I was the other day, I go, 'Dude, you have to do that on stage. It's so funny.' He said he ate chicken fingers and he felt sick and he goes to the doctor because he's like, 'I think I have food poisoning or something. Something's wrong, right?' So he goes, the doctor is asking all the questions. 'How much do you do this? Whatever.' And he goes, 'How many drinks do you have in a week?' And Shane said he took a beat and he's like, 'I'm going to be honest for once.' And he goes, '80.'" ROGAN: "80 is so crazy." DEROSA: "He said the doctor starts laughing and he goes, 'No, come on, man. Seriously.' And he goes, '80.' And the doctor goes, 'It's not the chicken fingers, man. You drink 80 drinks a week, right?' And I go, 'What happened?' He goes, 'I went home. I threw up. I was fine the next day. It was the chicken fingers.'"

Nothing worse than having to travel with the contrarian coworker who "doesn't do chain restaurants." The guy who pretends he's too good for Chili's, Starbucks, and Chipotle, who will make you spend an extra 45 minutes in traffic driving to the hole in the wall coffee shop on the other side of the metroplex for a $12 Americano brewed by a communist polycule that tastes exactly like (free) Marriott lobby coffee. The guy who claims to loathe the suburbs due to the lack of adequate fine dining options, and who raves about his favorite Lebanese spot downtown where him and his equally pretentious Macbook-job wife shove carrots and hummus down their screaming iPad toddler's throat ("He loves it!") . These are my least favorite people on the planet. At the end of a long day of work, I want a triple dipper for $15 and 14 Coke Zeros, not a deconstructed 2 oz. mushroom risotto with algae crisps and a boba tea. These people deserve to be airdropped into the Amazon Rainforest.