Bikes! Bikes!

Another tale from the porch: my car battery was dead, so I had Fluffy-headed Social Worker come over in order to drain the life from her car and bring precious Cabrio back to me. It seemed like a good excuse to get Cute Boy to ride his bike down and, you know, fix something that is broken. It did not work, but we were on the porch, and that's always a good time. We went for a bike ride and it was fun, fun, fun. Not surprisingly, Cute Boy was on one of them bikes made of pipe cleaners and thin rubber, so he can fly while riding no-hands and I'm cruising in my 600lb couch on wheels. Fluffy-head borrowed Roommate's ride and popped some major .2" wheelies. We stopped in a Whirlaway (ick) for a refreshing High Life and there was a birthday party! They passed cake around! The cake had banana pudding and strawberries! I always think I don't care for cake, until there's pudding in it. So, after a nice time with good friends and a tour of Logan Square (super up-and-coming, we're on the cover of the Reader!) I was in bed by 1:00am. It was like high school. It was fun.
As I'm typing this, I receive an email from the downtown office: "I brought a Mexican cake called Tres Leches with Mocha. Please help your self to a piece in the kitchen." I can eat only the tiniest sliver of Tres Leches, as it's rich creaminess is too, too, too much for a beer-cured belly. Back when I worked in Pilsen, we had Tres Leches cake for every occasion, and no one could tell me what the third milk was: everyone knows condensed milk, and then regular milk, so we decided the third was goat, or human. Turns out it's evaporated milk, according to Wikipedia. Yeah it is, if evaporated milk is made from the powdered dreams of sleeping baby angels!

Cake! Cake!