I asked my husband again for advice on a title. He suggested “Penis Face.” I decided not to listen to him and instead to take my inspiration from Strong Bad, as this is my 150th post. Where does the time go? I can’t believe I haven’t quit this silly habit and used the time to do something more productive like… um… read books? make cupcakes? That’s pretty much all I do. Why are you still reading this?
Fridays are always a perfect juxtaposition for me. I wake up feeling absolutely miserable. I’m exhausted from five days in a row of getting up early, and then I have my hardest day at work to face, with seven lessons in one day. But as soon as the bell rings at 5:15, my mood completely alters. I’m full of excitement about meeting Geoff for dinner, having a drink or two, and relaxing for the weekend.
Tonight I came straight home and started baking cupcakes so they can be decorated tomorrow. I wound up having to make the second flavor after getting home for dinner. It’s after 11:00, and I’ve just put the last batch of six cupcakes in the oven. I’m so sleepy. That glass of wine did not improve my alertness.
I’m pretty excited about my cupcake flash mob tomorrow. Well, it’s really just a mob of cupcakes. Hopefully the free treats will be so delicious, it will become a mob. I could certainly use the extra money. We have about a million fees to pay for this and that document and license. We’re going to blow all of our savings on bureaucratic bullshit before we even get there. Maybe I won’t have a wedding after all.
I’m sheepishly excited about reporting tomorrow on the giveaway at the festival. I hope we don’t get in trouble, and I hope I can get rid of all of these cupcakes. I’m such a hopeless nerd. When I look at the photos of other baking bloggers on the internet, they’re always these perfect suburban housewife type women. They have modern mom haircuts. Most of them are blond. I doubt if any of them have more than their ears pierced, and probably not a single tattoo. That is so not me. I’m not a rich lady who gets to sit around all day with my whisk and a camera. Okay, now I feel like I should be singing “I’m Just a Misfit” from Rudolph.
I’ve always been different. And I’m not afraid. Our uniqueness is what makes us all fascinating. I’ve felt weird for as long as I can remember, but luckily I was raised to embrace it, not hide. So I’m packing up my cupcakes and trying to give them to strangers tomorrow, because that’s what weird kids do. Whatever they want.