You, Me, And A Cheesecake Makes Three

So there's this cheesecake factory.

It's in a run-down part of NJ in an old, half-abandoned industrial park. To get there, you have to pass ditches filled with litter and grimy railroad tracks and that guy - you know who I'm talking about - that guy walking down the side of the road in a hoodie, with his hands jammed in the pockets of his baggy pants who is UNDOUBTEDLY up to no good, so you discreetly lock your car doors as you drive by but hey, these are the things we do for cheesecake, no?

Once you get to this factory, you have to find the dingy little store attached to it. It doesn't look like much from the outside - in fact, I'm pretty sure they don't even have a sign up - but ohmygod you guys, the INSIDE of the store makes up for it's shabby exterior.

...because it's filled with cheesecakes.
SEVERELY DISCOUNTED cheesecakes on account of the fact that their delicious graham-cracker crusts crumbled or their moist, creamy centers cracked in the production process.

Defective cheesecake at rock-bottom prices?
Yes, please!

So my mom brought one over for Brian and I a few evenings ago, because there is no limit to her awesomeness. It's some sort of "turtle" thing with nuts and caramel and chocolate and pretty much everything that is good in life.

We finally broke into that bad boy last night after a harrowing round of frolf on the Wii (I am a notoriously poor loser, dating back to my early failures at Candyland, and Brian has quickly learned that consolation prizes are obligatory in this household).

And when I say it was good, what I mean is it was smack yo' momma good.

Brian (in post-cheesecake bliss): Oh man that was good
Me (slumped on the couch in a stupor): Oh my god, that was amazing
Brian: I need, like, a cigarette or something.
Me: A cigarette? I think I need a priest because there is no way that was not a sin
Brian: Honey, I hate to tell you, but I think I just had my first affair.
Me: It's not cheating if I participated. That was more like a threesome.
Brian: A cheesecake threesome. I like the sound of that.
Me: Same time tomorrow night?
Brian: Absolutely. I'll bring the forks.
Me: Ooh, I love it when you talk dirty.

So there you have it. Other women might worry about their husbands cheating on them with college co-eds.
I have to worry about my husband cheating on me with a turtle cheesecake.

It's a match made in heaven.