So I left you, dear readers, on the edge of your seats, about this.
I used caps a lot in that post, so in keeping with that (rather annoying) theme:
SOME DUDE BOUGHT MY CHEESECAKE FOR FIFTEEN DOLLARS.
I am totally not making this up. 15 smackaroos. For my cheesecake. For reals.
When I received the text from the hubs, (I think he was just as surprised as I was) I danced a little jig and squealed a bit. Like this:
And then, I did the next most logical thing: I decided to go into business, selling cheesecakes to poor shwubs who are gullible and have a lot of cash flow. I will be RICH, I tell you! RICH! My cheese cakes will sell like, well, hotcakes I guess. I am too busy to attempt a better simile, and I am far too important to blog anymore.
So, it’s farewell. Parting is such sweet sorrow (get it? a PUN), but it’s time for me to leave you for the glamor and limelight that comes with… baking a lot. Kisses, my sweet readers. Martha Stewart and I are having coffee to compare notes, and I gotta get on Craigslist looking for an industrial mixer…
*Momsie gets up off of couch for refill on coffee and surveys the kitchen sink. It’s full of dishes. And despair.
OK. WELL. One problem, friends.
I still hate baking.
And it’s just a teensy bit possible I have a slightly over inflated ego. And “issues” with “all or nothing” behavior. Or so my therapist says.
So there’s that.
*Sighs heavily. Coldly ignores dishes huddled in sink. Returns to couch. Stares at computer screen contemplating epic inner turmoil.*
Hey! Hi there! Ok, so I’m back! I think perhaps I’ll stick with this blogging gig a little longer.
ARE YOU NOT THRILLED BEYOND ALL POSSIBLE MEASURE???
Carry on, crisis averted.
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