Thursday, July 06, 2006

Good Intentions

Today is the husband-to-be’s birthday. Since he has to work tonight, I decided that we would celebrate yesterday. In order to adequately express my undying love for the man, I had planned on making him a birthday cake. With my own two hands! And none of this boxed crap for my baby. I was going to make the cake from scratch.

When I last went to buy groceries I scurried around the baking aisle like Emeril on crack. Self-rising flour! BAM! Confectioner’s sugar! Food coloring! He shall have colored icing! Icing that Did Not Come From a Can! Made the way my Nan used to do it, with a pound of butter and enough sugar to choke a horse! With sprinkles, even!

Imagine my displeasure when I got home from work yesterday and realized that I had left the recipe in my desk.

I cursed. I threw a fork. I tried to decide if there were any cake-like recipes that I knew off the top of my head.

There are not.

And then? I flopped down on the couch and took a nap until he got home.

When he got home I looked up at him from my nap-induced haze and informed him that there was no cake. And also, no dinner. I was so tiiired. And so sorry.

“Do you want to go out somewhere?” he asked.

“Grunt.”

“Well, I could go drive through somewhere.”

Then I promptly went back to sleep until the birthday boy came back bearing french fries and Chicken McNuggets.

In summary: I am the world’s worst girlfriend.

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