Today's Muse: Where's my other sock, damnit!


"So, you're baking how many cakes? From scatch?"

"Don't worry, piece of cake." (Mein Gott, I actually said that.)

"Well, aren't you going to use the machine? To, er, mix the stuff?"

"No! I'll beat it by hand."

"With a wooden spoon."

"Yeah. No problem."

"That batter looks really sticky."

"No problem."

Two hours and a couple of cakes later



"Your hand is all purple."

"..."

"Fuck off."


I'm so sick of cake it's not even funny.
Party tomorrow. Woo. I haven't got anything weird to wear. Shit and knockers. Where the hell did I put my glasses? I liked today, apart from turning my hand into mince meat. We went to Toys-R-Us, but there weren't any screaming children to trip and I tried one of those expensive ball machines and it spewed a Japanese interpretation of a Punk Minnie Mouse, with boots and everything. And I saw Natra and a lovely art exhibition. And I had beef noodles later. It was very good, but now I am in pain.

Thanks to everyone who sent me birthday wishes today (and those who didn't but wished it in their hearts or dark and musty regions). Love you lot, except for those of you I don't love. You know who you are. Or I know who you are. Whichever, if ever. Orgh... the pain!