So me and three kids are sitting at the ice cream shop, basking in the glow of our spoils from Free Comic Book Day discussing you know… relationships, music, movies, the significants of those who had significants, teasing those who get too damn nauseating about their significants (gag me). As we’re looking at all the designs of the desserts surrounding us, I think… ice cream cake is the bomb, let’s do it for my birthday.
The offspring that don’t belong to me, belong to my diet buddy. They have been doing the same low-cal thing I have. They’d actually made a homemade ice cream cake that was really good during one of theirs kid’s birthdays. I remarked on this while we chatted.
I’d already been planning to do my low-cal thing, but my birthday was off limits. If I had to get fucking old, I was going to enjoy it however the hell I wanted, eating whatever the hell I wanted. I even have a coworker who tracks our birthdays and brings a cake to the birthday person. This year they are planning on a chocolate pound cake… I’m stoked.
Yes, two cakes. One I pick, its mine to choose. The other is just extra, even if its epic and gets just as much attention as the prime cake, I didn’t request it so it doesn’t count.
I have been trying to remind myself to check the ice cream shop’s options and pick out what I want so its ready in time, but I’ve been distracted with the usual life stuff.
Then I get the message from my diet buddy:”I heard you mentioned something about two cakes, did my kids tell you I was making your cake?”
My response was something akin to “no, but you just did.”
I appreciate the thought and while I can accept two cakes on a birthday, even if I only get a little while on one day to enjoy it (it will be turned over to the kids to dole among themselves when me and the diet buddy are done, as our kids are all skinny little buttheads), there’s no way that I can justify three.
So my ice cream cake is nixed.
Damn. I don’t even know what they’re making. I can be particular about this stuff and we don’t see eye to eye on some things, even though this friend often makes me order when we meet up because I’m the more adventurous of the two (you will doubt this shortly).
What if the cake they make has a shitload of frosting or god forbid… nuts?
My baking coworker opted for the chocolate poundcake because they have learned this about me, though it took a few years. I don’t do cooked fruit, I hate coconut, I don’t like meringue or 98% of pies (see cooked fruit). Keep the fucking nuts off my cake, ok? I can tolerate cream cheese, sour cream, or marshmallow frosting but only in small doses. Whipped cream is fine, but only homemade, not that spray shit that reminds me of a fire extinguisher pooping stars or puffy spray cheese.
I like my chocolate like I like my… coffee? errrr, dark, smooth, not too sweet and in unlimited supply.
What are your cake/dessert quirks? Do you like dessert? If not, what the hell is wrong with you!?