The Cake Is Not A Lie
Yesterday at the party we had cake. Today we were dragged in after Quaker meeting to have more cake. And today after lunch we were supposed to meet more people for Yet More Cake.
Me: OH MY--*claps hands over mouth*
Mom: ...What kind of cake?
(Because all of the cake SO FAR had been that horrible tasteless store-bought cake with the frosting that gives you cancer and any way I'M A PIE PERSON. LIKE DEAN.)
EvilGrandma: It's a handmade double chocolate gooey cake your great aunt made especially.
Me: ...Okay.
(It was...home made. I'll give her that. But if i never ever force down another blob of frosting it will be too soon.)
But anyway, there was a miscommunikay and the great aunt wandered around the wrong building with the cake for half an hour looking for us before putting it back in the car, which made the Evil!G tetchy because she told her the right building how could she possibly get it wrong it's not rocket science.
And then we saw the HMS Pinafore by Gilbert & Sullivan, performed live while we watched from second row center. Mmmmyay. Semi-operatic, plot holes you could drive a semi-truck through, but just enough cute boys in the chorus that my singing!kink was purring. Plus, you know, sailor outfits. Omnomnom.
Which gave me this bunny someone should write: Fraser/RayK, Fraser is a soldier stationed aboard one of her majesty's ships (I mean, red uniform, come on.) and Ray is the rough-around-the-edges-and-some-of-the-middle sailor tar. They could have illicit funtimes under the bulwark, play King Of The World/I'm Flying Jack! up at the bow, and perform semi-acrobatic blowjobs in the rigging!
...Gilbert and Sullivan not exactly my thing, so every time they repeated a chorus my brain found ways to entertain itself. *hands*
Also: met a woman who carries a picture of herself with President Obama, and i may have had a teeny tiny mini flail--and not just because, you know, OBAMA. I've never ever met anyone famous. Never. So all of you who are going to cons and having Mark Shepherd sneak up on you and watching Misha fake-blow Jensen...I envy you. A lot a lot.
I would probably literally fall over if i met anyone more important than a newscaster. Hell, the newscaster's not a safe bet.
The sheer weight of pitying groans i hear every single time the Evil!G tells Wisconsinites that we're from Wasilla is beginning to weigh on me, i think... :/