Jamie Zuege

[ElBuni @therealbuni]

Noruega elimino a brasil y el ejercito subió un video haciendo el festejo vikingo

[Jamie Zuege @ZuegeJamie]

So cool! ❤️🤍💙

[Mike @TheMIKED89]

@250YearsAgoLive

[Jamie Zuege @ZuegeJamie]

@FreddyLA7 Great choice! You deserve every single bite! 💔

[Jamie Zuege @ZuegeJamie]

@FreddyLA7 @FreddyLA7 our Texan family will be in small town Gunnison Colorado for the July 4th Independence Day holiday & would be happy for y’all to join our city park picnic & fireworks - it’s on the way from Kansas City to Vancouver!

[Jamie Zuege @ZuegeJamie]

@FreddyLA7 We’ll be in small town Gunnison Colorado for the July 4th holiday and would be happy to share our city park picnic & fireworks!

[Jamie Zuege @ZuegeJamie]

@FreddyLA7 The Texas coast is it’s own kind of beautiful! But watch the weather, sounds like they may be getting some big storms!

[Jamie Zuege @ZuegeJamie]

@pat_hedger BEST EVER!

[Jamie Zuege @ZuegeJamie]

@TAKACHAN007 GREAT CHOICE!!! 💙❤️🤍⭐️🤘🏻

[NOBUNAGA🇯🇵🏯_夏樹蒼依 @japan_nobunaga]

USA. A breakfast counter. The waitress recommended the biscuits and gravy, and when the plate arrived, I thought something had gone wrong in the kitchen.

I say this with shame. The dish looked like a construction site after rain. Pale mounds. Gray ladle-fall. Speckles I could not identify.

In my land, the eye eats first. A meal is arranged like a garden. This meal was arranged like weather.

"Is it… finished?" I asked, carefully.

"Honey, that's what it looks like."

The man beside me was already eating his. He did not look up. "Just try it."

I am a man who has charged hillsides at dawn. I raised the fork. I tried it.

I must now formally apologize to the biscuits, the gravy, the waitress, the kitchen, and the entire breakfast tradition of the American South.

It was magnificent. Warm. Peppered. The biscuit drank the gravy the way a field drinks rain — THAT is why it is shaped like that, you fool — and every mound I had insulted was a soft fold of comfort that my homeland, in eight hundred years, never once thought to invent.

"Well?" the waitress asked.

"I judged it," I confessed. "By its appearance. I am ashamed."

"Everybody does, hon."

Everybody does. A national dish that forgives you for doubting it. It expects the doubt. It waits for you on the other side of it.

Do not judge the gravy by its face. Judge yourself, for hesitating.

I order it every Saturday now. I no longer see the construction site. I see only the garden.

It was a garden the whole time. The eye must be trained.

[Jamie Zuege @ZuegeJamie]

A perfect life lesson derived from a simple plate of “B’s & G’s” - thank you @japan_nobunaga!

[NOBUNAGA🇯🇵🏯_夏樹蒼依 @japan_nobunaga]

USA. A breakfast counter. The waitress recommended the biscuits and gravy, and when the plate arrived, I thought something had gone wrong in the kitchen.

I say this with shame. The dish looked like a construction site after rain. Pale mounds. Gray ladle-fall. Speckles I could not identify.

In my land, the eye eats first. A meal is arranged like a garden. This meal was arranged like weather.

"Is it… finished?" I asked, carefully.

"Honey, that's what it looks like."

The man beside me was already eating his. He did not look up. "Just try it."

I am a man who has charged hillsides at dawn. I raised the fork. I tried it.

I must now formally apologize to the biscuits, the gravy, the waitress, the kitchen, and the entire breakfast tradition of the American South.

It was magnificent. Warm. Peppered. The biscuit drank the gravy the way a field drinks rain — THAT is why it is shaped like that, you fool — and every mound I had insulted was a soft fold of comfort that my homeland, in eight hundred years, never once thought to invent.

"Well?" the waitress asked.

"I judged it," I confessed. "By its appearance. I am ashamed."

"Everybody does, hon."

Everybody does. A national dish that forgives you for doubting it. It expects the doubt. It waits for you on the other side of it.

Do not judge the gravy by its face. Judge yourself, for hesitating.

I order it every Saturday now. I no longer see the construction site. I see only the garden.

It was a garden the whole time. The eye must be trained.

[Jamie Zuege @ZuegeJamie]

@FactsAboutTexas And those aren’t even special for the World Cup, they’re flying 365 days a year! 🤩

[Jamie Zuege @ZuegeJamie]

It has to be said: I hate soccer, but I love Freddy!
@FreddyLA7
#FerventlyfollowingFreddy

[Jamie Zuege @ZuegeJamie]

@FreddyLA7 You’re gonna LOVE Texas! ❤️💙🤍⭐️

[WeRateDogs @dog_rates]

This local Wolfdog joined an Olympic ski event and triggered the finish-line camera. This is Nazgul. He snuck into a cross-country skiing sprint this morning and raced the homestretch with some competitors before being escorted home. 14/10 someone get him a medal

[Jamie Zuege @ZuegeJamie]

With his gorgeous imagery & attention to tiny pertinent details, Bad Bunny took us on a trip to the island home of a new friend and let us “walk a mile in his shoes” to understand PR culture & feel that deep love.
He is the Latino version of Taylor Swift & I love them both!

[DK🇺🇸🦅🇺🇸 @1Nicdar]

130 schools said no.
He led the losingest program in college football history to a national championship anyway.
Fernando Mendoza was a 2-star recruit from Miami.

He tried to walk on at his hometown school. They passed.
So did FIU.
So did FAU.
So did everyone else.

At 17, he was sitting in his bedroom, crying over a silent recruiting inbox—after driving to 18 camps with his dad and sending highlights to more than 100 programs.
Not one FBS offer.
His only option? Yale. No scholarship. No NFL path.

Everyone told him to be “realistic.”
“Know your place.”
“Be grateful.”
He didn’t listen.
Because Mendoza understood something most people miss:
The worst outcome isn’t failing.
It’s never getting the chance to try.

Two weeks before signing day in 2022, his phone rang.
Cal needed a body. One offer. Out of 134 schools.
He took it.
He arrived as the third-string quarterback.
Spent a year on the scout team.
Lost his first four starts.
Got sacked 41 times behind a broken offensive line.

Still got up. Every time.
Then Cal brought in a transfer instead of building around him.
So Mendoza left the only school that had ever said yes.
He transferred to Indiana—the losingest program in college football history.

People laughed.
“Career suicide.”
“Graveyard program.”
“Nobody wins there.”
One coach told him something different:
“I’m going to make you the best Fernando Mendoza possible.”
That was enough.
Mendoza wasn’t just playing for football.
His mother has battled multiple sclerosis for 18 years.

Before every snap, he thought of her.
“My mother is my why.”
Indiana went 16–0.
Beat six Top-10 teams.
Won their first Big Ten title since 1945.
Mendoza threw 41 touchdowns.
Won the Heisman—first in school history.
First Cuban-American to ever do it.

Then came the title game.
Miami. Near his hometown.
Fourth-and-4. Season on the line.
Quarterback draw.
The kid 134 schools rejected spun through defenders and dove into the end zone.

Game over.
Indiana—national champions.
The losingest program became the best team in America.
All because a 17-year-old refused to believe “no” was the end.

Rankings don’t decide your ceiling.
Gatekeepers don’t write your ending.
Being overlooked isn’t a verdict—it’s a starting point.

Sometimes all you need is one shot…
and the courage to bet on yourself when nobody else will.
Don’t quit.

Credit: Barclay Mullins

[MFFL @Mavs_FFL]

Nico saw this and decided to break it up

[Jamie Zuege @ZuegeJamie]

@taylorswift13 https://t.co/uixPUSGKzX

[Jamie Zuege @ZuegeJamie]

What in the everlovin’ wolfman hell is going on with @CooperKupp ‘s hair on SVP??