Anyway, I'd already eaten dinner, so all I ordered was sweet tea and a brownie sundae. And that brownie sundae was pretty damn good. (Although I could have gone for a softer brownie. But the chocolate chips kind of made up for it.) They had arranged this dessert on a large triangular plate, with the brownie and ice cream (both topped with whipped cream) in the middle, and dollops of whipped cream at all the corners, and chocolate sauce drizzled over the entire plate. Amazing. I demolished it. Then, because I obviously wasn't going to let any of that deliciousness go to waste, I was scraping up the chocolate sauce and bits of melted ice cream and whipped cream. Our waitress came around to take up whatever plates and such we were finished with. She asked if I was done. I (naturally) said no.
She judged me. She judged me so hard. I could tell. (She asked if I wanted to keep "playing with" it. Um, not playing. Doing some serious eating, here, woman.)
It's cool, though. I have no regrets.
Except that I managed to drip chocolate sauce on my sweatshirt (I can't take myself anywhere!). And I have a food baby.
Overall, though, that dessert was a great decision. And honestly, madam waitress, I'm pretty sure if all you ordered at a restaurant was dessert, you'd milk it for all it was worth.