While many of you asked the cake redeemed itself in it’s deliciousosity, I regret to inform you that the burning hair smell put me off of it. Then, when I realized the fondant smelled exactly like I’d imagine the color Blue to smell, it further solidified my desire to never let it touch my delicate, refined, distinguished palate.
(the very same delicate palate that loves on Crunch Berry Cereal. Hard.)
So this, my friends, this is a requiem for a Cake Wreck:
Alas, I cannot submit my creation to the SITE Cake Wrecks, because they only accept professional cakes, and as we’ve all gladly seen, I am no professional.
Somewhere, a lone bugle is playing Taps for my sad, sad cake.
Yesterday as I was flitting about the house uselessly writing a couple of things that I had promised I would do, I noticed that my right ear was making an odd tapping noise. I have a cold, because it’s a day of the week that ends in “y” and I always have a cold, thanks to my three crotch parasites, and I chalked it up to odd inner ear congestion.
As the day wore endlessly on, the knocking in my ear continued, and as I was finishing up the last of my articles late last night, I had a horrible, awful thought that combined the most awful of my fears.
What if something had laid their hideous eggs in my ear canal and now it was hatching to eat my remaining three brain cells? Like an alien? Or a bug? Or an ALIEN BUG?
(what, ME neurotic?)
When I informed Dave of my fears, he rolled his eyes and laughed.
The Daver: “You do remember it’s January in the Midwest, right?”
Aunt Becky: “Yes.”
The Daver: “And that nothing is actually alive.”
Aunt Becky: “Yes.”
The Daver: “And that you’re being neurotic.”
Aunt Becky: “You’d be neurotic too if you were growing an alien bug baby in your ear canal.”
The Daver: (rolls eyes) “Clearly.”
Then I went and flushed my ear canal with water and hydrogen peroxide for a couple of minutes, figuring that it would kill whatever was eating my brain. While it fizzed merrily, I hate to report that my ear is still sort of thumpy today.
The alien baby CLEARLY is immune to hydrogen peroxide.
Today I am over at Toy With Me, where I am telling the not-at-all (SARCASM ALERT) embarrassing story of my bachelorette party. It involves a clogged toilet, a stripper, and balls on my face.
And, as always, if you’d care to vote for me in The Bloggies under best humor blog (voting ends in a couple of days), here is the link. I will love you all over in ways you never knew possible.