Remember the German Chocolate Cake? If not refer to:



It was birthday cake day in the office and a coworker and I were discussing cake and she was like "oh how's [redacted]?" She had met him at a work event and we hadn't chatted since and she's a playwright and was wondering about his projects and such. I told her it didn't work out and funny she should ask while we were eating cake. I then told her the cake story (I made an awesome cake that was never eaten). Turns out she's writting a play and wants to use it in her play!! I knew somehow, somewhere that effing cake would not go to waste if it killed me. It is now famous (or at least in a play that people may or may not see for years to come).

Ok update: I sent her the picture of the cake. She wants to use it as the cover for her playbill! My cake is famous!




Just for you Paul. By popular request here is the infamous never eaten "German Chocolate 3 hour to prepare and no I'm not bitter about it cake".

PS Jason you and I are having drink fest next time I go home.

I never leave the office for lunch. Well, not never but, rarely.

Today a coworker and I decided to get the fuck away from our desks and escape the doom and gloom of the economy and head to Bergdorf's. Bergdorf's is a magical department store. It reminds me of what shopping was in the 50's. Not that I know what it was like, more what I imagined it would be like.

I don't go in there often, mainly because I can't afford anything in there and I feel like the sales ladies can smell the stench of poor on you like cheap perfume.

For some reason today was very different. We walked in as the door man turned the revolving door for us. Then as we entered the store we were greeted by SECRET SERVICE. I gawked, and they politely asked us to move on. My co-worker (who I refer to as my work wife because we are together 9 hours a day 5 days a week) immediately said "I can totally see the glow in your eye you want to know who it is." I replied that now that my dream of marrying an investment banker is dead, dream B is foreign dignitary. Then I realized that it was probably the wife not the actual dignitary shopping. With another dream crushed we moved on to the "Beauty Level". My co-worker bought her make-up and we then loving caressed purses that cost more than an entire years rent as the salesman espoused the virtues of "a colorful clutch that would be fun for fall events." If he only knew the only fall event I have is drinking in dive bars and random make outs with boys who don't care about colorful clutches.

We then left the store and decided to grab some lunch before heading back. As we are walking down 56th Street I stop dead in my tracks and say "Oh my god WHAT is this awesome store?" (Note: I'll include picture at a later date). Turns out it was a gallery display of Japanese items. Basically it was all Hello Kitty and Hello Kitty related things. I am not kidding when I say I almost pee'd my pants from excitement. My co-worker almost pee'd her pants from laughing at me.

Moral of the story:
Go to lunch. It can bring a bit of sunshine and Hello Kitty to your day.

Two of my dreams died.

Dream #1: Marrying an investment banker and becoming a CT housewife. Investment banking no longer exists and the days of making shitloads of cash doing murky business deals are gone. Today I'm going to watch Wall Street and mourn the fact that I will never have my own personal Gordon Gekko.

Dream #2: This dream is a tad more unrealistic, but Scarlett Johansson got married. I guess this means I'll have to give up my girl crush on her now that she is taken?

What kind of world are we living in?

In continuing with my tradition of love of celeb gossip (embarassing, but shut up you know you have a dark secret too) and gays I was very interested to find that:

Clay Aiken is gay.

I mean it shouldn't be a surprise, but I don't believe that stuff till it's confirmed by various news sorces (and by new sources I mean Page Six and Jezebel).

I created friend probation in the early 90's as a punishment for Paul who frequently was naughty (and not in the good way). So when he chose to be bad, I'd put him on friend probation. This would consist of a variety of ways that I could torture him (not talking to him the entire way back from Toronto while pouting, not cooking for him when he was hungry, making him snuggle, etc..) until he'd beg for forgiveness and I'd allow him back into my good graces.

The 90s ended and somewhere along the way Paul realized I wasn't actually the boss and he turned the tables on me. Now I'm on friend probation. Since Paul is the one person in the world who knows every dirty secret (and some of the are quite dirty) I now have to beg for his forgiveness to get back in his good graces.

Now I present to you my case as to why I shouldn't be on friend probation:

Missing Image ;(

Let's end the madness. Seriously Paul, seriously..