Baked American Cheesecake and the Meaning of Life, Starbucks KLCC

Yesterday I found two raisins in my cheesecake. This is very mysterious. In my expansive cheesecake-eating experience, cheesecake doesn’t normally contain raisins. But there they were, plain as day and bold as brass and tiny and sweet as… erm… midget candycanes, hiding between the biscuit and cake layers. I am utterly perplexed. The first raisin I ate, I assumed was a mistake; that I had just imagined the raisin-flavour that had suddenly said what’s up to my tastebuds and turned up to party in my mouth. But three bites later, there was another one! And then I demolished the remainder of the cake in search of more raisins but that was it. Just the two. SO. Now we have a mystery on our hands. If there were three raisins, I’d definitely say it was deliberate. With one, I’d definitely say it was a mistake. But two??? TWO RAISINS??? What is the meaning of this, Starbucks?!


I have a feeling that when I discover the answer to this mystery I will have the key to all of life’s philosophical and moral mysteries. Maybe LIFE is a two-raisin-ed cheesecake (should be forty-two-raisin-ed, in my humble opinion) and The Person Up There sees it fit for us to ponder the meaning of why two raisins? what are raisins, really? are you sure there are only two raisins? perhaps you only perceive two raisins and they do not actually exist? but if you perceive something then is that not enough to conjure it into reality? and other such questions, while partaking dessert.

In a completely unrelated mid-morning update note, I am craving claypot chicken rice and/or gravy fries and Philly cheesesteak and/or ox tongue with fried rice with a burning passion. This may or may not be due to external factors. Danny asked me if I am currently in the throes of woman-time. Unfortunately for everyone who has to interact with me on a regular basis: I suspect we ARE nearing aforementioned woman-time (actually and mathematically this is impossible, but the alternative explanation is that I am just excessively and wantonly emotional for no good reason at all, which I refuse to believe). This would explain the inexplicable food cravings, sudden urgent need for affection and attention, and hyper-sensitive mood swings that are causing me to erupt in anger at unsuspecting people. I apologize in advance. Tell me you love me and buy me a red velvet cupcake and I promise I’ll play nice.

Here, have some more cake.