We're on the Cakeside

Among other things, including video games and watching anything on the Military channel, Son #1 is really into food and cooking. He's willing to try anything bizarre on a menu and loves some pretty interesting dishes. (Hence the little gut he's already forming.)

Over the weekend, I bought a $3 hardcover cookbook for him filled with beautiful photos and recipes for chocolate cakes, cookies, pies, you name it. He wants to make everything in the book and share it all with Grannie (our favorite chocoholic).

While Son #2 (aka hamslice) was trying on new DC skateboard shoes, Son #1 was showing him cakes that he could make for his upcoming birthday party.

"What if I make this chocolate gateau cake for your party? It looks so good!"

"I'd rather have a chocolate ghetto cake. Can you make one of those?"

Lenten Sacrifice

My brother recently sent me to the site This is why you're fat which boasts the tagline "where dreams become heart attacks."

Too bad it's a Friday in Lent. I could really go for a loaf of ground Spam cubes with a Velveeta cheese center topped with a layer of hot Velveeta. Or the McGangBang: a McChicken sandwich inside a double cheeseburger. Mmmmmmmmmm.

For now, I'll have to pass on the Porkgasm and the Meat Cake. Maybe we can save the latter for my birthday.



Festive, right?

My Affair Continues

Yesterday, I left the house without my wedding band on. I showed my hubby the rash on my ring finger beforehand and asked him if it was okay if I went sans ring for the day. He couldn't have cared less.

So I spent the day at a client site and checked my voicemails at the end of the day. My girlfriend Michele, with whom I was having dinner, left a message that said, "I just called work and they said you weren't there today so I'm going to try you at home and see if your husband knows where you are."

Ring-less? Not at work and not at home? Here we go again! My cover is blown!

On a side note, I did learn one valuable lesson last night: Remember to take the safety goggles off your head when dining out. Even Paris Hilton doesn't wear frames that large.

She is fast, thorough, and sharp as a tack;
She's touring the facility and picking up slack.

Somehow high fashion on the production floor doesn't quite cut it in a nice restaurant. Why is that?

Bad Day: #3

Last but not least . . .

A couple of years ago, I went to a birthday party with my kids. The wife, my cherished long-running friend Melinda, asked me if I would like a piece of cake and, before I could answer, her husband (who I also love) said, “Of course she’d like cake, look at her.” Uh, did I just hear that correctly?

Instead of letting it ride, she asked him, “What’s that supposed to mean?” and he responded, “Well, she used to . . . well she’s now raising two beautiful boys and that’s her priority.”

She then turned to me and said, “Don’t listen to him; he’s an idiot. If it’s any consolation, I ran into someone at T’s recently who said to me, ‘You’re Melinda? What happened? You used to be hot.’”

If only it ended there. Her husband said, “Well Melinda, that’s true for her, too. Don’t you remember when she used to be hot?”

Thanks. I think I’ll pass on that piece of cake and just go straight for the vodka.