This week has been insane to say the least. I operate on two speeds, lightening or snail. It’s either all day 5 am to 2 am or in bed at 8 pm. I’m not good at moderation. This theme reigns true for everything from work, to travel, to boys.
And when it rains it pours. As the infamous Carrie Bradshaw says, “The only thing a girl needs to get a date, is another date.” And it couldn’t be more true. And for someone with an obsessive personality, it takes its toll.
One of the skills of a good ballet dancer is the ability to keep their eyes focused on a steady point. Without it, they lose their balance and fall of kilter … hardly graceful. And since I’ve been blessed with such amazing grace … errr … I have trouble and lack a steady point. As a 20-something girl living in Manhattan on a limited budget, the notion of a “home base” is as elusive as Prince Charming.
So this week, my second to last of school, crunch time began. Attitudes are flying, tempers are roaring, and more cuts, bruises and scrapes have occurred in four days than in the last 5 1/2 months. And with the conclusion of school nearing, the hunt and interviews for jobs piling up, and my inability to do anything in moderation, what did I do? I went out every night, barely slept, ran way too man miles, spent way too much money, and thought about nothing.
Because if I thought about anything I’d have to think about decisions. More than think about decisions, make decisions. How to decorate a cake? What job to take? etc. And if you just keep ignoring the decisions you have to make, they eventually make themselves …
or … the cake bakes itself, shapes itself, and gets build, you get through it, and in the end it doesn’t turn out half bad.
Excuse the pictures they’re from my phone, better ones to come later.
Our wedding cake was due today at 1:30 pm. The theme: nautical, the outcome … hmm fishy? No, wait, that was the methods behind the cake’s construction …
Cheating? You bet.
I hate short cuts, back cuts, and people who take them when it comes to producing an “original” product. Grow a sack, make your own shit. (Pardon the language, but yes I was that mad inside).
If I could explain how incredibly ODD everyone in my class is, I would. Let’s just say this, some cheated, one burnt caramel (did I mention we weren’t even making caramel? or sugar? why someone was making sugar I haven’t the slightest clue), another swore she pulled a muscle in her forearm and used a cake mold (from the freezer) as an ice pack on her arm WHILE decorating her cake, and the list goes on …
Some cakes were good, all were okay, and none were bad. Mine … was okay. Instead of a classy yacht club wedding, my cake looked more like a 1st grade Sponge Bob birthday party cake. My sugar paste flowers were good though.
So on top of constructing the cake, half the battle was taking the cake home. The cake was bigger than my Soho kitchen … So I had to give away some tiers. So on the one day New York decides to be 75 and HOT, I wear a wool blazer and Timberland boots. Carrying my 25 lb cake up Broadway in broad day light to my friend’s office at BroBible to drop off a layer … I looked like an idiot.
To give you a visual. I had a large J. Crew dress on. The kind that can be either a beach cover up or a boho dress. I was (trying to) pull the latter. Carrying two large cake tiers, and wearing sunglasses that my sister Kellie would think were way to big for my tiny head. Suffice to say Broadway was packed at 4 pm on the sunniest day we’ve had in weeks. Walking in any piece of sidewalk I could, I was struggling to mingle through the crowd.
Now generally speaking I hate walking over grates. Maybe it’s a fear of falling through, or maybe just because I’m usually wearing heels and the thought of ruining shoes or getting stuck is embarrassing enough. Oh, and because it’s not classy to pull a Marilyn Monroe pose …
Yep, full skirt around my hips, hands full with cakes. Thank GOD I was wearing underwear. Boy-shorts, phew, even better. Yep, panties out for Broadway. Best part, no one even turned a head.
No wonder I love New York so much, everyone is as fucked up and self obsessed as myself, not even a little afternoon butt cheek shocks anyone …
Then I went to the new Bowery hot spot Pulino’s for pizza and bubbly, enjoyed the sun and well you know “life,” because as confusing as life is, there’s always cake, there’s always sun, and there’s alway champagne, even if there are job-problems, school-drama, or boy-confusion.
Happy first day of spring!!
