The Husband said he had an idea for a fabulous dessert and ordered all of us in the car.
He refused to tell anyone where we were going, even me, and the suspense in the car was palpable. We threw out possible guesses and named several ice cream parlors, bakeries, and restaurants along the way.
With each passing mile, our mouths just salivated. I expected at any moment for us to pull up to a new, untried place, and was giddy with excitement.
Not to mention, by this time, extremely hungry.
I half expected him to yell "Gotcha!" as we pulled back out again and headed to our real destination.
Sadly, that WAS our destination.
Shock turned to annoyance as I said, "Burger King? What. the. eff?"
Annoyance turned to disgust when he told me what he wanted to order from there.
Internet, I give you the worst dessert in the history of mankind:
I do have some class.
And I will never know what possessed the people at BK headquarters to combine ice cream and bacon.
Probably the same mental illness that possessed my Husband to drive 20 minutes to buy it.