I already like 2017 better because my short ass fingers can type it easier on the keyboard because the 7 is like a whole space closer to the right than the 6 was. Yet another reason 2016 can die in a fire.
In other news, last night I was plagued by a cake frosting related injury. At least I am pretty sure that was the cause. After a day flinging the frosting I came home and became paralyzed. Ryan says I don’t understand what that word means, but I am pretty sure I am using it correctly. My entire upper right side was stiff and painfully reminded me it did not want to move. It even hurt to lay on a pillow for god’s sake! My neck, shoulders, and right arm seemed to be revolting to my new bakery life. I had a stern inner monologue with them and explained the need to chill out and get used to the extra usage. I think it worked. Sometimes you just have to show your own body who’s boss.
I over dosed a little on over the counter pain killers and I am happy to report this morning I can turn my head to the right without screaming. That’s progress! For those of you wondering, yes, I maintain my stance on bakery life—Still better than teaching!!!
So retrospectively I should have take a photo for this post. But honestly there was no god-damned way I was touching my phone.
Saturday I learned a few things about trash. I learned the giant dumpster, which serves all the businesses in the strip mall I work at, apparently gets dumped out on Mondays. This means late Saturday when I had a ton of trash from the bakery to take out there, I discovered the dumpster to be packed full and overflowing. There was trash stacked up next to it and spewing from its top. And the horror began.
You see, among the business in our strip of stores are a hair salon, sushi restaurant, and us…a bakery. As I approached the bin my stomach plummeted to the ground when the festering smell of fish hit my nasal passages. Flies swarmed with delight at he sushi restaurant’s leavings. When I drew closer not only did the fishy smell intensify, but a massive unbagged pile of human hair came into view. I was terrified at the thought of a large gust of wind for so many reasons.
Quickly I began to grab the bakery trash bags and fling them onto the pile. Frosting is heavier than you can possible imagine, so this was no easy feat. Bag after bag landed safely until the last one. It was the heaviest, laden down with what felt like tons of discarded frosting. As I launched it into the dumpster it landed on the human hair mound. Frosting oozed onto the various shades of hair clippings, already pungent with the smell of decaying fish.
My lunch began to rumble in my stomach as I turned to race away from the stench. So gross… so incredibly gross. Still better than teaching though!
Yesterday was a kick ass kind of day, in a good way. I spent most of the day selling wedding cakes at a big bridal fair event at one of the local venues. I stood next too dummy cakes (don’t worry they are used to being called that name) from the bakery I work at and fed brides cupcakes all day.
It turns out if you are yielding cupcakes everyone is super nice to you. People come out of the woodwork and strike up a conversation. I like to think it is because of my enchanting personality, but I am afraid they were more attracted to the cupcakes than my charming conversation.
I also learned bridal fairs have their own set of perks. Turns out if you make friends with the other vendors they feed you their delicacies and give you flowers.
I didn’t even have flowers as nice as these at my own wedding. The florist just gives them to you in exchange for a few cupcakes. Holy shit ya’ll cupcake currency is the new bit coin, stronger than the dollar and yummier too!
I already felt like a freaking queen, and the night was not even over yet. When I got home my sweet husband decided that we should celebrate that I am not cranky because I have to go to the first day of school tomorrow. So we hit the town to stay up late and do grown up things.
First we went to a restaurant serving margaritas that will knock you on your ass. Ask me how I know. We ate ourselves stupid and laughed at each other’s stories. Still buzzed, Ryan took me to a Sausage Party.
I’d say not to worry that it wasn’t an X rated sausage party, but it was still pretty raunchy. I’ve never laughed so much at anthropomorphic sausages in my life. I really think Seth Rogan and friends sat around a table baked as shit and said, “Hey what if we make Toy Story but with food, drugs, and a fuck-ton of violence.” Then someone else must have chimed in and been like, “Yeah, as long as we can have a five minute food orgy scene in it too.” Then I am pretty sure them must have all passed out from the drugs.
Ryan and I got home nice and late and neither of us cared. Dear god I love not being a teacher!
So I am questioning my life choices a little bit this morning.
I quit my stable and quasi-decently paying job as a teacher to become a writer. However I knew I needed to get out of the house otherwise I would become some sort of agoraphobic cat lady that wears mis-buttoned cardigans and hides from the doorbell.
In order to minimize this risk I got a part time job as a baker/cake decorator/wedding consultant. It is a pretty sweet gig. (Yeah, that’s right, I can your anti-pun groans, but I’m writing it anyway.)
Anyway, turns out I am pretty good at selling cake. I can sell a cake to an anorexic, gluten-free, dairy-free, sugar-free, pesca pescatarian.
Baking however seems to be another story entirely as last night I nearly set the house on fire trying to make a damn birthday cake. Turns out my oven is evil. It has these little holes at the bottom that lead to some deep oven abyss where the fire comes from. I managed to fill my cake pans a tiny bit too much. This resulted in a teeny overflow of cake batter. Now, normally that would just sit on the bottom of the oven and emit a lovely burning smell. Unfortunately last night the overflowed batter managed to work its was through the holes in the oven bottom and down into the depths of the fire breathing parts… thus the open flames that arose inside my oven.
I cannot express the horror of smelling a burny smell and then looking over my shoulder to see an aggressive orange glow coming from inside the oven. I pretty much suck in emergency situations, which is a known fact in my family as I generally just throw some bandaids in the general direction of the problem and run in the other direction.
Unfortunately raging flames do not respond well to this strategy.
So last night I found myself tossing baking soda willy-nilly towards the flames while trying not to inhale too much smoke. Eventually the flames died down and I was left with one fugly cake and whole lot of smoke in the kitchen.
I need to stick to selling cakes.