Would you like a cupcake, Cupcake?

At 9:15AM, my phone rang.

"Are you buying bitches cupcakes?"

"Umm, no."

"Yeah, you're busted and having trouble speaking."

"It's just that I didn't buy them. I made them. From scratch."

...

The first cupcake recipient had thanked me via Facebook. I explained that the reason she hadn't been given any cupcakes was because I was perfecting the recipe and frankly she has never asked me for cupcakes.

Round Two (But Still No Beet Juice) or Yeah, Baking is Easy But Where the Hell Are Your Cupcakes

"Hahaha timmy!!! You are the best! I'm sure you can find someone to eat your 15 undelicious cupcakes..."

Via facebook I told her what had happened and that is how she replied. I'm sure she was laughing with me.

I loved the way she used the word undelicious.

...

I was eating lunch when I got the call that most employees were being let go two hours early. I looked at my phone for the time and it was 2:05PM. My work day ends at 4:00PM.

I said "Sweet."

I was with friends at the bar I frequent. The location was someone else's suggestion and I certainly wasn't going to argue the point.

I moved to the bar, after my friends had left.

At 4:45PM she walked in and asked where her cupcakes were, I told her that I was working on them and after about an hour I wished them all a Happy Thanksgiving and left.

Five hours later I was shaking hands with the staff at the front door and I put my money away when I was told not to pay the cover. I'll be surprised the day they do charge me the cover but I always let them know that I don't take my rockstar status for granted.

The upstairs dance floor was about half full and there was just one guy at the bar. When she saw me, she smiled.

I said, "These ones are delicious," as I slid eight red velvet cupcakes across the bar and for the next couple moments the guy at the bar disappeared even though he was still talking. She came out from behind the bar, gave me a hug and then told me that I was her favorite person in the world.

When she got back behind the bar, the guy said, "Yeah, I make those all the time. It's pretty easy once you've done it once."

I smiled at his effort to dismiss my gesture before I agreed with him that most baking is easy. I smiled again when she asked me what makes them red while she still ignored the guy next to me.


redvelvet01

After I left, I wondered what that dude was going to do to try to make her forget that she had just labeled me "Favorite Person in the World."


redvelvet02

These cupcakes are the non-perfect but still delicious ones that stayed at home. The other eight were left at a different friend's house.

But that's a different story.

In Conversation She Told Me What See Wanted

And what she wanted was Red Velvet Cupcakes. I settled my tab. I knew there was a cookbook at home that had a recipe for Red Velvet Cake and as you may know: cupcakes are actually just little cakes.

But as it turns out, after some research after the fact, that the recipe I was using isn't very good. So, now I have fifteen velvety cupcakes that look pretty good but have a not-so-good taste. I wouldn't say that they taste bad but they definitely do not taste good.

The other recipes I have found have more sugar and a lot less unsweetened cocoa powder.

In round two I might actually even use beet juice after I draw an X through page 94 of "The Big Book of Baking."

I would rather work with untrained monkeys

She speaks of being a Catholic christian and then speaks about slapping people and how Obama might be the anti-Christ

Complaining about a normal size drink seems silly to me

She was more upset that she couldn't serve me a cocktail in a pint glass than I was. She had told me the week prior that the owner of the place had just forbid serving anyone a drink in a pint glass. I thought, "Oh well, I'll just have to remember the good times." The good times included the seven or so years prior when all of my drinks were served to me in a pint glass.

She told me that she even asked, "What about regulars that have been coming here for twenty years?" She said that the owner said, "Even them."

Lately, I haven't felt like drinking anyway.

...

She leaned over to me and said, "See you later, weirdo," as she watched him head out the door. I said, "Yeah, Dick was just asking about him. I said that he was harmless but that he always asks these inappropriate questions," and then the other 'normal' regular added their opinions.

She then said that he asked her to come to his house to cut his hair. She is trained to cut hair and she will cut hair for friends but I don't think she taken up cutting hair for any of the barroom patrons. I chose to believe that the guy is extremely socially awkward because the only other choice is that he is a plotting murdering rapist.

He was just probably thinking that she cuts hair and that sometimes he needs a hair cut and that everyone can use a little extra money sometimes and what would be better than her sitting on his lap in the middle of his kitchen while she cuts his hair while she is topless - if it's a hot day.

On a side note, I think anyone that either cuts hair or has their hair cut in any other room than the kitchen is a freak. The only other acceptable location is the bathtub.

beep - - - - beep - - - - beep...

I knew it had been awhile since the last post; there were some attempts to get something posted but they always got deleted; I figured that I was do.

(really? two semi-colons?)

That last post was the day before my birthday. I don't know if that is significant or not.

Who knows what I've done since then?

I don't think any of it is story worthy.

I had to rearrange the living room because the big projection TV broke. There is a smaller flat screen there now that can't carry the room like the other TV did so some furniture had to be moved.

I got to reevaluate the importance of TV in my life.

I knocked it down a peg.

My uncle's live-in girlfriend died at the age of sixty this past Monday. Her obituary states that instead of flowers that you can send money to a charity of your own choosing.

I told my sister that when I go, instead of flowers that folks can take themselves out to dinner.

...He loved flowers and felt that florists were a bunch of serial murders...

She told me to tell it to my other sister because she wasn't going to be bother with arrangements caused by my death.

I was going to wait until I had something to say but I got slightly concerned that folks might have thought that I died of a heart attack or something in the mean time.

There's still a beat.