Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Bachelorette Cake Pan

Note: This is a story about a Bachelorette Party, so it comes down to an adult joke/misunderstanding. I don't really like doing adult-themed subjects online since the net is so very public, so this may be the only one you'll ever read from me. It's just an honest, funny story. Anyway, don't read this if you're too young to go to a bachelorette party.







I would like to point out that I am one of the youngest of all my cousins. Not the youngest, but not too far off.

My cousin Leigh was the first of us to get married, so she got the kick-ass, buy-everything-in-the-store-who-cares-about-the-price-because-it's-on-dad's-credit-card party.

My other cousin Marcy and I dangled cut-out streamers across Marcy's living room. I taped them up with my eyes closed. Many fuzzy (possibly furry) decorations streamed across the space, but I didn't actually look at them. I especially didn't stare at the plastic crown with its wobbly "family jewels" on it. You know which jewels, and if you don't, I told you up at the top not to read this.

If I had a magic mirror and could use it to send a message across time, I know for a fact that I would not have believed myself if I told myself that this wouldn't phase me in a few years. I might have been a little freaked out by the talking mirror though.

Marcy's huge labrador Dexter also helped to decorate by grabbing the fuzzy decorations and scattering them about the room. He was perfect ambiance since his nickname is the S&M dog. He's entirely black (think black leather), has a spiked collar, and will walk up to you, arse first, demanding to be spanked. With fuzzy handcuffs between his fangs, he was perfect!

The room became a palace of phallic imagery, laced in more pink than I've ever witnessed before in one location. I'm sure at least 30% of it was on my face. All that was left to do was make the cake.

Baking! That would get me away from the decorations! With a thunderclap trailing my heels, I flew into the kitchen. I flipped on the oven and start mining for a cake pan underneath the sink. I'd just set the two round cake pans on the counter when Marcy exclaimed, "Not those! We gotta use the special one!"

Oh. Okay. I ducked back down and continued my under-sink spelunking expedition. A minor cave-in of cookie sheets crashed down, burying a deposit of casserole dishes. Any hope of discovering other cake pan strata instantly vanished.

Marcy started to pick through the grocery bags on the counter. "No, it's around here somewhere. We've gotta find this pan. I've got the different colored frostings, the whipped cream and the chocolate sprinkles all ready to go! Where could it be?" She flipped open her phone - this was in the days of yore and flip phones - and dialed her sister Kelly.

Across town:
Kelly didn't even notice her phone ringing as she rummaged through the over-filled trunk of her vehicle. Uncle Scott sifted through the other side of the paraphernalia. Kelly briefly wiped the sweat from her eyes as she tried to find her current college freshman report card.

Kelly, who can not only do an amazing karaoke of "It's Raining Men", was very smart. "It still can't believe my art teacher gave me a B on my design project!" She shoved aside a backpack full of either books or bricks, either way it carried the same weight.

Scott gently picked up the penis cake pan between two fingers and released it from the depths of the trunk into the sunlight. "You only got a B?"