Lord I Was Born A Ramblin' Man. Just Kidding, I Hate The Allman Brothers.

My birthday is rapidly approaching. It falls on a Saturday this year, which means there will be very little issue in laying claim to my preferred notion that Thursday through Sunday be dedicated to celebrating the fact that I became alive. Especially considering I was a stillbirth! Nah, I was moving. Pictured above is last year's cake, which was purchased at BJ's and decorated in-house by a darling little South American woman who, after failing to leave enough space for the two exclamation points that I requested, unhesitatingly and unapologetically threw the cake in the garbage pale and began to inscribe a second. As you can see, her letter "C" looks a bit nervous, as I suspect she preferred to avoid a repeat of the first attempt.

Here's another, more sultry looking cake of mine that was not baked in the oven of BJ's, but handcrafted by Tina Crawford, whose secret ingredient of New Jersey orphan's blood made this already tasty rectangle of white chocolate and raspberry brownies that much more delicious.