Things haven’t been exactly easy for me in the past year or so, and while I’m remiss to talk about them here, because honestly, every time I put up some whiny “woe is Aunt Becky” post, I’m immediately annoyed by it. Then, because I happen to have some of the best readers in the world, you guys come over and try and make me feel better, which leads to a Wayne’s World-esque “I’m not worthy!” in my head.
Ranting and complaining just isn’t something I do well, so I don’t really bother. If I’m not posting one of two things is happening:
1) I’m having hot, hot sex (shut up. It COULD happen)
2) I’m not feeling it, dawg (is it just me pining for American Idol to come back? Probably).
I’m slowly picking myself up off the ground, dusting myself off and trying once again to pee rainbows and sunshine rather than hatorade and spite, and it’s working. Mostly.
But nowhere is my Mind Slippage more evident than apparently in the realm of cakes. Yes, that’s right, I said cakes. My eldest turned 7 last month, and due to a number of incredibly boring reasons, we waited until this weekend to have his Kids Party. Mainly because the last thing I want to do is host a party for a bazillion 7 year olds. Or something.
Normally, most of the thrill of having a big party for me lies in the almighty Cake Selection. You see, despite not really caring for the taste of cake, I happen to have a bit of a love affair with fancy cakes. Like, I kind of want to marry fancy cakes and make cute ickle cake babies. Or something. It’s always been with great gusto that I selected a cake for Ben’s birthday (also: the first time I alone hosted a large party. With or without beer), and great pride that I unveiled it to my guests who probably didn’t give a crap.
Case and point, the first cake that’s made it’s way into my iPhoto gallery.
Okay, so the second cake isn’t as cool, but so what?
And Alex’s first birthday this year…
Is that a….
It totally is! That dirty bitch!
I realize that this is a somewhat poor representation of all the Cakes I’ve Loved And Served, but I’m unable, without major work like lifting my fat ass off this chair and into another one, to show you the catalogue of other awesome cakes I’ve bought. So just PRETEND that you’re seeing a whole ton of pictures mmkay?
Well, this year, I was going to get another bomb-diggity cake for Ben’s birthday party, only to be seen by 7 year old eyes for the sugar content and not the amazing artistry that had gone into it’s creation, but, well, I just didn’t. I took the easy way out and went to Target, pretty much blindly selected a cake (cakes get far less cool for older kids, let me tell you) and picked it up today.
And…it’s hideous. Simply hideous. Awful, even. Don’t believe me?
I mean, after half-watching about 1,000 soccer games I’m appreciative that they got the ethnicities right:
But hey, at least he likes it. Loves it, is more like it. Even though the characters are GROWN MEN and not kids like I thought they’d be (no one to blame but myself here). I mean, hello, creepy Uncle Pervy men here. I’m shocked you can’t quite make out The Bulge in their shorts.
And I can be sure to be the parent that everyone hates when their precious kids come home covered in green goo.