Last night fight club had a potluck- southern comfort themed. And yes, I know that sounds odd, and while Tyler Durden may not approve, Jack’s rumbling belly brought yams. So there.
I brought biscuits. Big fluffy ones that came from a can. I know- I’m the worst. But I got all caught up in these gay Japanese dramas on YouTube (later post) and I lost track of time. I’m lucky I remembered to take a shower Sunday night. Luckily no one seemed to care. There were sixteen, and I think about four or five made it home.
Best part of the night? When Angel kicked me off the loveseat to sit next to Madeleine. Then SMIRKED about it. I thought cats were supposed to be snarky, not dogs.