The Cakes Made of Cheese

Last evening, my friend H-bomb wanted to get together for some eating and socialization. I’ve had a gift card for a chain restaurant for about a year (one that specializes in making cake of the cheese variety… if you get my drift).  I generally don’t eat food there because the menu is huge and varied and the food is overpriced and fairly mediocre. However, I certainly don’t mind their cakes of cheese (See, cakes of cheese? Means cheesecake. Get it?).  Anyway, since I had this gift card that I was trying to get rid of and she wanted to eat dinner, I suggested she come on over to the cakes of cheese place and I would pick up the majority of our bill with the gift certificate.  Sounds great, right?

So we both ordered the spicy chicken sandwich – mine was a little gamey, but sometimes you’ll have that with chicken, so I just ate the parts that tasted ok and went about my business (my fries were delicious, btw). H-Bomb was too full for dessert, but by golly, if I was gonna be at the place that specialized in cheesecakes, I wanted some cheesecake, so I ordered a piece to go thinking I would eat it later while I watched my Thursday night programs.

I got home, excited to eat my cheesecake, and sat down to watch some Big Brother (don’t judge me!).  When I opened my cheesecake, I immediately flipped the hell out.  There was a pubic hair in my cheesecake.  No lie.  A goddamn pubic hair!  And it wasn’t just sitting on top like perhaps the guy had made the cheesecake then right before he put the lid on the container, decided he needed to scratch his balls.  NO. It was sticking out of the side of it, so obviously it had gotten trapped somewhere in the cheesecake baking or assembly process.  My guess is it happened while the vanilla bean mousse was being slathered on top.  And yes, I tried to come up with every scenario possible because I wanted to be able to justify how it happened.  And you KNOW I pulled that thing out just to be SURE it was what I thought it was.  AND IT WAS.  And then I gagged.  And then I had to throw my cheesecake in the trash.  FROWN!

A strongly worded email was sent via the corporate website.


About independentsinglegirl

I don't like asking for help. Sometimes that gets me into trouble!
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