Scary stories

I'm not really a horror movie person. Minute 6 or so of this video really pushes my limits for a scary story, which is kindly - and dramatically - reenacted by this gentleman:



"He permed me!" Ahhhhh!

Anyway, it's been dark and stormy in my neck of the woods and I thought I'd tell you one of my scariest tales.

A few years ago, Hubs and I went to what was billed as a wine and cheese party at a friend's house. Now, we totally know thyselves and knew we were actually going to attend a block-of-Kraft-and-assorted-boozes party, which is fine and spooky. We're, like, very chill like this. I mean, one of my top ten favorite cheese of all time comes from an aerosol, but I balance that with knowing my French sheeps' milk from a Spanish cow's.

We chose to bring our very favorite cheese (also the top layer of our wedding cake) - a Pierre Robert. It's very brie-like, and spooky. Verrrrry spooky.

When we arrived, we set our cheese out to come to room temperature and began to schmooze and booze. I could sense something was not quite right with some of our fellow guests. They seemed...spooky.

It's important to note that I am an excellent eavesdropper. I'm known far and wide for this skill. I know this because I've heard people talking about it.

As we chat with our hosts, I overhear some of the more zombie-esque guests. I hear horrifying things.

"Oh, this is um, like, a brie?" says a fellow guest.

"Yeah - you're supposed to microwave it so it gets gooey inside," replies another.

Dear. God.


"That'd be so good with a  pretzelersumthin dipped in it!" said a third.

They're microwaving my precious cheese. Microwaving! My! Cheese!

I looked to Hubs, hoping he could intervene but as we both turned to tell the naughty guests that you don't microwave good cheese - it was too late.

The Pierre Robert was being wrenched from the microwave, bubbling and getting tackier by the second (ba dum ching!). Within minutes, it had hardened and was abandoned by all at the party. Spooky.

I'm telling you guys, it was horrible. Awful. A fate I wouldn't wish on my most hated cheese.

*Please look for this story to be retold when I write my business book, Who the Hell Microwaved My Good Cheese?