I’ve never been much for cake parties. You know the kind. It’s someone’s birthday or anniversary or graduation and family and friends who don’t normally see each other in their regular lives come together to keep things moving along. Everyone gets their cake and stands around looking at each other, right? Holding their little piece of white cake on a paper plate and a plastic fork? I’ve been to lots of cake parties and never liked them, even as a child.
Make some small talk.
Well I’m not child anymore, and I still don’t like them. And yeh they do make me wanna stomp my feet. I guess I fancy myself a lifelong, pseudo-hispter-cool-cat too much- for what that’s worth nowadays. I just wanna sneak off behind the shed for a smoke. I mean how can you stand that whole scene? It’s way too square.
Scoodley oh wow wow.
When I’m king of the universe the cake party will be replaced by the cold-martini party. That’s the party that takes place outdoors in good weather with laid back people. And with a fire. And people playing guitars. And lots of laughing going on. And the cold-martini party has lots of great food for sure, because breaking bread together and eating is just one of the best things there is in life. Beef tenderloin, hm, grilled just right, or maybe jumbo lump crab meat drowned in butter. And some sort of special occassion dessert like bananas foster or fried cheesecake.
And low lighting.
Cake parties? I’ll show up early and blow up the balloons. Then come look for me behind the shed.