An Orange Juice and Sprite Mimosa is Illegal in Most States

Well I still haven’t heard anything about the child support.  Which means I had to bake until 11:30 last night to quell the crazies.  I made turtle cake which is basically a diabetic coma in a pan – German chocolate cake layered with caramel, condensed milk and pecans and then layered with melted chocolate chips and crushed Zoloft tablets on top.  It looks just like powdered sugar.  And I thought that The Best Zombie Ever could take it to work today because I like to be generous and make other people fat.  Also there was something he feels bad about at work, something that he built or programmed or whatever that failed or is failing or wants to fail.  He explained all this too me and I nodded like I understood but all I heard was blah blah blah fail, blah blah blah fail.  I know the word fail.  Probably too well.  All this was engineer speak or manager of operations speak, which is what he is – yes zombies can be managers too, don’t be so racist.  So he was feeling bad about that and I thought, well bring in the turtle cake and all will be right with the world.  People will be catatonic with turtle cake and people will say: What fail? This fail cake is success! And then they’ll fall over into diabetic comas.

BUT I realized that Wednesday is his work from home day.  The kids are with their dad this week, which means we are alone with the cake all day, unsupervised by anyone – except for the dog and guinea pig and fish and cats, who aren’t going to say a damn thing because they’re afraid that if I’ve got it in me to make a cake made of turtles, they can’t be far behind.  I’m going to lunch with a friend and I’m afraid that while she’s talking I’ll be thinking about the cake and that’s just not fair to her, so I should probably set a goal to finish it before lunch.

1:18 pm and already a fourth of the way done! Take that, failure.

I’ll call this next section, Bullshit News By Mrs. Zombie:

My friend sent me a link today:  Burger King Tests Mimosas and Brunch with the comment, “I’m all over this.  Fast food and alcohol, I’ve died and gone to heaven.”  I almost started crying with joy.  And then I clicked on the link to find out when I could expect to get drunk at BK and what the whopper!?  The mimosas are made of orange juice and Sprite.  Did you lose your hard on?  Because I sure did.

Stop pointing at me like you got me covered. OJ and Sprite is NOT having it my way. Like, at all.

I know what people want on a brunch menu.  For starters ALCOHOL.  For seconds, ALCOHOL.  Jesus people, you think you can get market share with orange juice and Sprite.  My kids make that accidentally and I throw it away.  I’m not going to pay money for that.  You want market share, you need to have alcohol and french toast and bacon fried donuts for the hungover people.  You need backrubs and turtle cake and absinthe.  You need happy meals with pills for the adults.   You don’t need orange juice and Sprite.  Come on, BK.  Next time you want to get market share, I suggest you call me, because this is bullshit.

Tagged as: avoidance, better living through chemistry, bullshit