Shift to Plan B.
And I didn't have a Plan B.
Readers of my blog, to the rescue. One person suggested eating at a restaurant that I had never been to before but always wanted to try. And as it just so happened, a Cheesecake Factory had opened near my apartment late last year. It seemed like everyone I knew and everyone that they knew, in some sick cheesecake spiral of addiction, had eaten there at least four thousand times. A week.
I had some serious catching up to do.
A call to another friend to find a dining partner ended with an answering machine message, so I was going to have to eat solo - or was I?

Enter Kim W. (who directed me in Barefoot in the Park and The Eight), who coincidentally called while I was on my way to the ol' CF. And she just so happened to be free for dinner.
Long story short - I got my CF on. The menu has ads in it. Ads. And it weighs a quarter-ton.
What to drink ... hmm ...
A Platinum Mojito? With rum and more rum? Oh, sure.
Rum will henceforth be known as happy juice.We ordered. Kim got a salad and cold tuna thing. And garlic noodles and stuff for me (yes, I'm a vegetarian who sometimes eats seafood).
And for pre-dessert? Tres Leches Cheesecake.






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