> If you’ve had your head in the sand all last week, then warning, spoilers abound<
It finally happened, Jon Snow is left bleeding on the snow and the show watchers have caught up to the book readers. Now we are all in the same creaky medieval boat, waiting for someone, anyone, be it novelist or show runners, to please just tell us the rest of the story. Continue reading
You meet all sorts of people when you are working as a waitress, while you are trying to get through that one more (or three more) years of University, (at which point you will obviously get a way better paying job with all of your English degree.) Waitressing puts you in touch with weirdos you might not usually meet – as does being a comedy wife, but that came later. This is a story about one of those weirdos, and what could happen to you if you go to a party in Laval on a Saturday night.
It happened at a party in Laval on a Saturday night. Some time ago, in the awkward years before social media where you actually had to call someone to get directions to the place. It was one of those restaurant parties where it’s a Sunday night and nobody knows anyone real well and for the first ten minutes you wonder why you came all the way out to Laval for this, but then the booze starts rubbing its back against your veins and you get to meet the host’s wolf. Continue reading