Jello has ruined my carefully constructed image.

Jello, you are a douche.


And the EXACT reason why I don't improvise on recipes, or go off script, or hang from stirrups in the bedroom; because then your dessert looks like it's bleeding, you say something stupid, or you have to call the police to unstrap you from the ceiling.  Rules exist for a reason, people.


So.  I had this recipe pinned on Pinterest--and upon review, it seemed do-able and not overly complicated, minus one factor.  That I freaking LOATHE fruit frozen in jello, and so I just decided to omit that ingredient.  I mean, it's JELLO and not freaking rocket science.


Or is it.


I made the pretzel crust.  YUM.  I made the cream cheese/sugar/whipped cream middle.  YUM.  I made the jello (with less water, per recipe instructions), and then I got nervous, because it was supposed to begin setting, to the consistency of egg whites.  This would be the step where the frozen fruit was introduced; and also where it occured to me that the FROZEN fruit was intended by GOD to help bring the temperature of the boiling jello down, and therefore perform the mystery of setting it to the consistency of egg whites .


Well, I tried ice cubes, I tried some freezer time, I tried PRAYING TO GOD for the jello to set like egg whites (this is for a bible study after all), and then I had another brilliant thought!  I would just pour it on the cake like the next step called for, thus spreading it out and making a thinner layer of jello that would thicken in no time!  This is one of those (rare) instances where I felt like something I learned in 4th grade?  Middle school?  High school? --was actually presenting itself in a practical, real-life application.


Except that life is not a simple science fact--but also 143 variables in the same space and time.   I forgot to factor in the density of the cream cheese layer, and the rate at which a liquid would pass through it (apparently, there is more to this equation that surface volume)--and so the stupid jello seeped through the cream cheese/sugar/whipped cream and into the pretzel crust and it just sort of solidified halfway through that process.  Leaving me with...this.

A cake (actually, a salad--strawberry pretzel salad, official name) that looks like bleeding cow fat.


For Bible Study guests.  And we're reading the book "Grace for the Good Girl", except that I am STILL trying to prove that I am the one human being on the earth who was born to be the perfect Christian wife/entertainer.  


I'll let that one sink in for a second.  Particularly if you knew me in college, or you read the first line of THIS BLOG POST, in which I called Jello a very derogatory name.   I guess the jig is up.  Or the gig is up.  Or whatever that saying is that means you think you are fooling people, even when your kids accidentally know the words to every Katy Perry song, and you are #69 in line for the swim team sign ups.


Tastes awesome, though--if you can get past the image of eating raw, fatty meat.