Allow me to set the scene for you – me and the Aggie having dinner at the newly built Golden Corral. (Side note: We were shocked when it turned out to be really good and much less scary than anticipated.)
After a meal of pot roast, fried shrimp and a variety of other nonrelated yet equally yummy foods, we sat for a few moments to let the hodge-podge digest. Smartly, I had saved myself for the cornucopia of post-dinner treats.
A few minutes later, I approached the dessert buffet and piled my plate with a sampling of just about everything they had. Chocolate cake, fudge, peach cobbler, blue berry pie, some red-ish cake (perhaps red velvet), a coconut thingy and various cookies and puddings. (Don't judge me.) Anyway, before returning to the Aggie I had a final mission – ice cream. Cleverly, I sat my plate atop the ice cream machine and proceeded to fill cup with frozen goodness.
That's when it happened.
Something was off balanced and my plate-o-dessert came sliding off. And landed? Pretty much on my head.
I looked up in horror as the entire restaurant stared at the FAT LADY covered in desserts. Now, there aren't many ways to come back from this sort of social failure. So I just pretended like it didn't happen and proceeded to add caramel and hot fudge to my ice cream – the lone survivor of the Pastry Incident of 2008.
And that ice cream? Was totally worth it.
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