This weekend we celebrated our dear Lizzie's birthday with a hoppin' party. Of course, the real fun of the night was when we settled in for one of our famous after-parties. There we were chatting about the night and consuming as much leftover food as possible so there would be less to clean-up (yeah, 'cause we're thinkers) when I attempted to begin a nice friendly game of Chuck a Powdered Donut at Your Roommate's Head.
Because I'm an adult.
Things, as they often do in our house, escalated quickly and within seconds a full-blown donut war raged. The fight came to a head and I found myself pinned to the kitchen floor as Liz shoveled a handful of donuts down my shirt. I did what anyone might do when they're backed into a corner: I grabbed some donut crumblies from inside my blouse, clamped my hand over Liz's mouth and shouted "EAT IT! EAT IT NOW!"
Yes, that really happened.
As I undressed for bed (and shook a cup of donut pieces out of my jeans) I couldn't think of a single person in the world I'd rather get into a wild pastry fight at 1 o'clock in the morning with.
Happy birthday, Liz. Thanks for being an idiot with me. You're simply the best.