Tuesday, July 24, 2007

He Really Is Trying To Kill Me

You'll recall that earlier this summer, I suspected my hubby of trying to kill me with cake. Cake on the counter tops. Cake bursting out of my freezer. Cake everywhere you turn.

So much cake (he's decorated 5 cakes in a month and that's a LOT of extra cake) that I'm over it. I can walk through the kitchen 9 times out of 10 and totally ignore any available cake. Frankly, if I never smell a cake baking again (not likely since he has 3 orders to fill in the next 2 weeks), it will be too soon.

He can't kill me with spare cake.

He's changed tactics.

For our son's birthday this past weekend, my hubby made a huge cake with a street, skyscrapers, a beach, flaming helicoptors and car wrecks, and a giant Godzilla emerging from the ocean. My 8 year old is fascinated by the old Godzilla films and this is the cake he wanted.

To give Godzilla that gorgeous green shine, my hubby used a spray paint technique that requires the metallic paint powder to be mixed with EverClear 100 proof alchohol.

For those of you not up on your hard liquors, that means this stuff packs a punch.

He sprayed Godzilla, finished the cake, and we celebrated our son's b-day at the pool where the cake sat in the sun for a few hours. No problem right? Wrong.

Today, after lunch, I snagged a piece of leftover cake. Most of the cake is gone (thank you Malystryx) so we've come to the area of cake that was beneath the Godzilla (which, incidentally, was sculpted out of rice krispies and chocolate).

I took some cake. Ate a bite. Cringed a bit and wondered why it tasted - strange. Took another bite. Same funny after taste. Not to be discouraged, I took a third bite and this time, a distinctly chemical taste nearly caused me to spit out the cake. Since that would be a hideous waste of cake, I managed to chew and swallow before informing my hubby that something was definitely wrong with the cake.

For the rest of this story to make sense, you might want to do a quick search for my "Lemonade?" post. You'll remember that I have NO TOLERANCE for alchohol. None.

3 sips of wine gives me a buzz. One swallow of a margarita and I'm completely out of it for 45 minutes.

We investigated the cake and discovered the reason for the awful taste. EverClear 100 proof alchohol, warmed by the sun, had run off of Godzilla and soaked into the cake. And by soaked, I mean bloody well soaked. This cake is now a Russian's dream.

And I am, most unfortunately, tipsy.

It's 2:12. I have a job interview with my District Manager in just over an hour. I'm lightheaded. My tongue feels slightly too thick to properly manage most of the letters in our alphabet. I find inappropriate things hilarious.

Okay, strike that last one. I always find inappropriate things hilarious.

Should be an interesting day. =)


  1. He owes me HUGE. He keeps looking at me - apparently I'm listing to the right? - and laughing hysterically.

    Evil man.

    Wait til I'm sober and then we'll see who's laughing.

  2. You might want to remind Clint that if anything happens to you,it is your desire that Dad and I move it with him to "help" raise the boys:)

  3. Ok...Let's clarify some things here...

    1. It's 180 Proof...95% pure alcohol.

    2. I used about 1/4 of a shot glass to paint the whole Godzilla.

    3. No, you can't move in.

    4. Most of the alcohol evaporated anyway (I'm not in the business of getting 8 year olds drunk!)

    5. No, you can't move in.

    6. Next time you are in such a state, please leave my nice car at home and take yours instead!

    7. No, you can't move in!


  4. Like I said, it doesn't take much to make me tipsy!

    And next time, drive me yourself. =)


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