The Mother Fucking Cheesecake

There's a story about the mother fucking cheesecake.

My roommate Cayla had a "big birthday" this year. And when I say "big birthday" I mean, it was an age milestone, not a huge shindig. We were still in school at this point in time and had plans to go out with two other girls to a club. Beforehand we'd drink and eat snacks (provided by yours truly) and hang out. I made this amazing avocado salsa and a homemade cheesecake.

Not fake homemade from a box. I practically milked the cows for this one. I spent 6 hours baking a Snickers cheesecake from scratch. I crunched up the graham crackers for the crust, I used fresh ingredients and put it in the oven for over two hours. This cheesecake was heaven on earth. Truly a labor of love. It tasted AMAZING. We were eating the dip and cheesecake with Cayla's friend, Petty and a few other of Cayla's work friends. Everyone was raving about the cheesecake. Everyone except for bitch named Petty.

At this point, Cayla and I had consumed roughly three mojitos and two glasses of champagne each. Fast forward to the club. We have two vodka-tonics each. Then bitch named Petty MADE us all take shots of Petron. We were so hammered and so freaking against taking these gargantuan shots of tequila, but bitch bought them for us and we couldn't turn her down. Did I mention I was NOT the designated driver? I had driven Cayla's car to Petty bitch's house and she drove it to the club. She volunteered to drive.

Thirty minutes later (after Cayla is making out with some fugly wannabe producer), Cayla tells me she wants to go home. I know she's about to be sick. I tell Petty bitch we need to leave and she hands me the keys and tells my drunk ass to drive her home. She didn't want to leave yet. So I stupidly drive Cayla home...we pull over twice so she can barf...and then I hit the car on the side of the garage. Classic. But at least we made it home safely.

Petty Bitch calls my phone twenty times. She left her keys in Cayla's car. Did this bitch just ask me to drive them back over to her in Hollywood? I barf.

"Okay, I will be there in thirty minutes to pick them up. You can't pass out."

Forty-five minutes later, they show up at my apartment. I drunkenly found the keys and brought them outside to her car.

Petty: "So Cayla's really sick? Do you think it was the cheesecake? It was probably the cheesecake."

Me: "Um, no, I think it might have been the large amounts of alcohol, no dinner, alcohol...oh and that shot of Petron you bought us."



Seriously, don't bring my mother fucking cheesecake into this, you Petty bitch.

So, now when something goes wrong....remember this.

Blame the cheesecake. The mother fucking cheesecake.