I make my own luck, and I make it in a pot. Then I bring it to potlucks.
—Jarod Kintz
To the potluck I brought something I randomly found in my fridge. It was the source of the stink.
I went to a potluck. I brought my own pot—and luck. The pot was empty, just like my promise to bring food the next time.
At the potluck, I brought two dishes: knowledge and mashed potatoes and gravy. Guess which one got cleaned out and which one hardly got touched.
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