Birthday Memories

So, yesterday was my birthday. I was thirty-thirteen (still am until next November 26, but anyway).There was a small family gathering for my birthday with tacos and margaritas, and my mom was making the cake. My friend Josie met me here and followed us over to where Darrin and Kimberly (brother and his girl) live. So it was Darrin, Kimberly, 2 of their girls, me, That Boy, Josie, mom, and Eva (family friend). Kimberly made strawberry margaritas that rocked. I drank many of them. I ate a taco and lots of Kimberly's chunky gaucamole dip. Not that calories don't count on the BD, but I didn't give a crap.

Mom made the cake. She had thought about making a carrot cake, but I told her that in my general world view on cake, "if it ain't chocolate why bother?" So she made a chocolate cake. She proceeded to "invent" the frosting/icing/topping which had some nuts, some coconut, more chocolate, and I'm not sure what else. It almost looked like haystack cookies with nuts on top of the cake. Eva and I (at least) picked a little off when she unveiled the cake, and it was pretty darn tasty.

I should mention that my mom is many things. A confident cook/baker is not one of those things.

Mom's idea was that the cake should go under the broiler (!) for a couple of minutes before serving to get the topping all nice and melty. I was already drinking when she suggested this, so it seemed OK to me. Kimberly was less certain, especially when mom said she thought it could go under the broiler for 3 minutes. Kimberly was more on the maybe 30 seconds side.

Anyway, time passes. We eat, we drink, and drink, and drink. We play with the dogs a little bit, and eventually Kimberly sets the broiler and then she and Eva go outside to have a cigarette. They come back in, but no one moves immediately to put the cake in. So mom decides to take the bull by the horns. She pops the cake under the broiler. Doesn't really tell anyone and does not set a timer.

You know where I'm going with this don't you?

Yep, there was a smoke smell. Mom issues a little scream, opens the oven door, and sure enough my birthday cake is ON FIRE! Which we had joked about 15 minutes before. My mother's voice screaming, "Oh my God, the cake's on fire," is going to be echoing with me for a while.

Fortunately, only the topping got crispy crittered, and Kimberly saved the day. She scraped it off, opened the fridge and found a can of chocolate icing, and re-iced the cake lickety split. You have to love a woman like that. Or I do anyway.

After cake, the bigger but younger male dog (who is about 8 months old and part pit bull and part minature dachshund) appeared to be performing oral sex on the smaller female dog (a very miniature chihuahua) right there in front of the world. Fixage is in order for that boy, who is terribly sweet and just adorable, but seemingly horny.

Apparently flaming cake leads to doggy oral gratification.

Good Times (capitalization shamelessly stolen from the Good Times Bitches). Good Times indeed.

There was also a story about a bear, but it's not my story to tell (since I didn't witness it firsthand).

CURRENTLY READING: Fluke, or I Know Why The Winged Whale Sings by Christopher Moore.