I keep trying to blog but being thwarted. It's Angus's birthday on Sunday but Matt's leaving for China or Estonia or wherever-the-fuck tomorrow night so Angus has three friends over for Laserquest and a sleepover tonight. I had to bake a cake. Here's the cake:
Is that not freaking awesome? Here's where I got the idea. It's double awesome because it looks impressive on the outside and yet the actual iced cake can be a bloody mess, which iced cakes INVARIABLY ARE when I make them. I was short one KitKat, so those slightly different lumpy things over there are Reese sticks. Because even when something's dead simple, count on me to find a way to bugger it up.
Then I had to take a picture of the cake. Then I tried to load the pictures from the memory card onto my computer and it did that thing where it said I had to reformat the card to use it, which would erase all the pictures, including the ones from Eve's birthday party, which, granted, was in February and now it's May, but still, sucks to be me, FUCK OFF. So then I tried it downstairs and it didn't work but in a different way, so then I tried another memory card in my computer and it still didn't work, but when I stuck the original one back in it suddenly worked. Isn't it funny when all it takes to make a day better is something going horribly catastrophically wrong and then turning out not to be?
Every time I cut oddly-shaped fruit I always cut towards myself, and even though I know this is asking for trouble, when trouble occurs I am always both surprised and outraged.
I went to the allergist. He was nice. And weird. Possibly slightly mentally unhinged. He wanted me to do a breathing test that measured exogamous nitrous oxide or something - wait, that can't be right, exogamous means marrying outside one's tribe or clan. It was probably endogenous. Possibly indigenous? Hey, have you seen this? I never would have guessed so many people would misspell 'vicariously' as 'bicuriously'. Look, a squirrel! Anyway, this device that measured the outwardly-marrying, originating-from-within, ethnic-and-probably-soon-to-be-persecuted-and-eradicated-by-war-or-disease nitrous oxide is apparently a little finicky, so he cautioned me that I would have to breathe out 'not too fast, not too slow -- like Goldilocks', and said he would coach me. The thing is, once you reach the optimum blowing speed (never typed those words altogether before, I don't think) the thingy lights up and a little happy face appears. So he really didn't need to be standing uncomfortably close to me going "Perfect! Perfect! Perfectperfectperfectperfectperfect" the whole time I was blowing and trying not to explode in hysterical laughter.
Anyway, the verdict seems to be that I'm allergic to.... nothing!
Awesome. So it's more of an... existential allergy? Ah well. Ruled some stuff out and didn't bail on the appointment and spend the day curled up in the corner drinking gin, so... win?
Happy Friday. I'm eating mango. And there is a bandaid on my finger.